"Really?"
"Sure. It's on the way to your place."
My heart does a weird fluttering thing. Going to his house feels significant, like we're crossing another line we can't uncross. But I find myself nodding. "Okay. I'd love to."
He takes my hand, and we walk to his truck, the Florida night warm around us. Somewhere between the competition and this incredible date, the ground shifted beneath us. And I'm done pretending I don't feel it.
Chapter 11
Wyatt
The drive from Hibiscus Harbor to my house takes fifteen minutes, but it feels longer and yet shorter at the same time. Merri's quiet as she stares out the window at the palm trees drifting by, and I'm acutely aware of her hand still in mine.
I can't believe I just invited her to my house or that she said yes.
When we pull into the driveway, Merri lets out a soft sound of appreciation.
The fact that I care what she thinks about my house hits me like a freight train. And why the hell does having Merri Gallagher here feel more terrifying than jumping out of planes? I cut the engine, suddenly hyperaware of every chipped paint flake and unfinished project. "It needs work. The porch needs repainting, and there's some water damage in the attic I'm dealing with."
"It's still gorgeous." She's already out of the truck, heading toward the wraparound porch. "Oh my God, you have an amazing view of the Intracoastal Waterway from here!"
I follow her slowly, watching as she takes in the view. It is breathtaking with the water glinting in the moonlight, thelights from boats drifting by, and the sound of the waves in the distance.
"My grandmother used to sit out here every morning with her coffee and watch the sunrise," I offer as I rub the back of my neck.
"That sounds perfect." Merri turns to me, her eyes soft and pretty. "I'm glad you have this place. It suits you."
"Come on. I'll show you inside." I unlock the front door and lead her into the foyer. The house is clean, but it's still clearly a work in progress. Some rooms are fully renovated, others are waiting for my attention.
She makes soft sounds of wonder, little gasps and breathy sighs as she takes in the woodwork. "This is incredible." Merri runs her hand along the mantel. "Look at this detail. They don't make houses like this anymore."
"No, they don't." I watch her wander through the space, and my chest does a flip at how right she looks here.
She pauses at the brown leather recliner positioned in front of my massive TV and grins. "You are such a guy."
"Hey, that recliner is comfortable. And functional."
"I'm sure it is." She turns to me. "How do you keep this place so clean? There's not a speck of dust anywhere."
"Marine Corps training is drilled into my DNA. You can't just turn it off."
"Apparently not." She peers at me through her lashes, her mouth curved in a coy smile. "Would you mind if I had that glass of wine you mentioned?"
"Not at all. I hope red is okay."
"That’s perfect."
I head to the kitchen and pour us each a glass of a Cabernet I've been saving. When I come back, Merri's settled on the couch, her shoes off, looking completely at home in my living room. My breath catches for a half second.
I hand her the glass and sit next to her. We make a toast and drink, and then somehow we're cataloguing all the pranks we’ve pulled over the years.
"Remember when you filled my toolbox with sand?" I ask.
"That was payback for the fake parking ticket you left on my car."
"Which was payback for you signing me up for square dancing in gym class."
"Which was payback for…" She stops, laughing. "Okay, I've lost track. We've been at this for so long."
