“Someday.” He cocked his head. “We can head up to see my grandfather. We’re a little early, but he won’t mind. He was excited when I told him you agreed to see him.”
“Okay, then. Do you want to take Ruthie or... ?”
“You never told me why you decided your car is a woman.”
“Because no man could ever handle my ass for this long.”
Nicholas smiled, his eyes softening. She had to look away. “I’ll drive. Ruthie might be able to handle your ass, but she probably can’t handle driving up a mountain.”
Chapter 13
NICHOLAS HADbeen exaggerating by saying his grandfather’s house was up a mountain, but not by much. The trees were older, the growth of lawn heavier, but she knew this hilly road like the back of her hand. When Sam Oka and John Chandler had moved to this then-rural place in the middle of nowhere, they’d purchased neighboring tracts of land. After they’d established their empire and each gotten married—in a joint ceremony, no less—they’d built their homes.
Livvy gazed in the direction of her old house, her late grandpa Sam’s home. She and Nicholas had run wild through these woods as children. As young adults, they’d made love in these woods.
And then later, Nicholas had broken her heart in these woods.
“Stop the car.”
Nicholas didn’t even hesitate, coming to an immediate halt. She stared out her window.
“Do you want to leave?” He didn’t sound surprised.
She ran her hand over the pristine leather seat. “How’s he doing?”
“Grandpa? Well, for his age. He has some pretty bad arthritis, so he uses a wheelchair now.”
“Are you sure he doesn’t hate me?” She wasn’t proud of how plaintive she sounded.
She also wasn’t proud of the rush of soothing comfort she experienced when his thumb brushed the back of her hand. “He doesn’t hate you.”
She rolled her shoulders. Shedding some of her baggage. “Okay. Let’s go then.”
“Are you sure?”
No. “Yes.”
Livvy braced herself for the first sight of the house, but even then she felt like she’d been punched in the belly when the large stone estate came into view. Someone was maintaining it well, the garden John’s late wife had so adored still thriving.
Nicholas parked in the circular driveway. She didn’t wait for him to come around the side of the car, fumbling her way out of the passenger side.
Sweat broke out on her brow as they climbed the porch and he stopped in front of the door. “Are you sure, Livvy?” he asked again, this time with more than a touch of urgency.
Yearning and longing and terror whirled inside her, but she nodded. Fearful she would take him up on the next out he gave her, Livvy rang the doorbell.
It opened after a brief pause. The man standing behind the door was young and handsome and astranger to her. His polite smile turned to familiarity when he caught sight of Nicholas. “Hey there.”
“Hi, Chad. My grandfather’s expecting us.”
The younger man’s gaze moved curiously between the two of them. “Sure. I can let him know you’re here.” He stepped aside.
The knot in her belly got worse as Livvy entered the home. Little had changed here, though the paint on the wall looked fresh, and the carpet had been swapped for hardwood. The air still held the familiar scent of vanilla and cookies.
Nicholas’s fingers brushed the small of her back. “Still okay?”
“Yup.” She firmed her spine. Without waiting for his urging, she walked into the living room, her feet retracing steps she’d taken for years.
Nicholas was behind her, but she forgot all about him when she saw the framed photo. She forgot about everything.
