The bathroom he led me to was nice; it was even nicer than the other one. This bathroom had an actual fainting couch in the little seating room before I went into the bathroom.
"The architect we hired to renovate the house wanted to make it as historical as possible. She said having a proper dressing room before going into the bathroom would have been desired."
"I bet they didn't use it for dressing," I told him. "They probably enjoyed a little morning action then went to wash off. It's super convenient because there's no walk of shame to the bathroom."
Mace did laugh at that. It rolled low and deep around the luxurious room.
"You are really something," he said.
"You haven't seen anything yet!" I quipped. "Now, I'm sure you secretly want to watch me shower, but I warn you, I'm going to be in there a while, so you might want to grab a book. I have about a week's worth of tiny house living to wash off."
"Wait you haven't been bathing?" he asked, laughter still around the edges of his voice.
"Sponge baths, man," I told him, setting down my bag on the vanity counter. He didn't follow me through the doorway though I left it open. Was I hoping he would follow me in?
"Is that why you still smelled like smoke?" he called after me.
I turned to look at him. "That microwave was defective." His mouth quirked. "It totally wasn't my fault!" I said, and he laughed as he left the bathroom.
The shower was just as good as I thought it would be, even if there was no Mace in it.
I'd like a little Mace in me.
Wait, no, I wouldn't. Oh, who was I kidding? Of course I did! He was tall and good-looking. I wasn't trying to marry the guy or tie him down. I just wanted him in my candy jar, just once. Just a taste. I liked to sample things. Mace was like a perfectly handcrafted chocolate truffle, the kind festooned with little gold flakes. It was a totally indulgent, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—an experience to have once and remember fondly on your death bed.
Hair washed and wrapped up in a T-shirt, a trick I'd learned on a forum for people with unmanageably curly hair, I skipped out of the bathroom, turned right, and opened the door to another set of servants' stairs Mace had said would take me out to the backyard.
Except there wasn't a staircase there; it was another bedroom.
Let's try door number two.It was a small library.
"It's cozy, and I would say that I would come back here and read, but let's be honest—I'm never going to find it again."
After I ran around and tried every door, I finally found the stairwell.
Finally.
Except it didn't take me to the backyard. I found myself in a kitchen—the most glorious kitchen I'd ever seen.
"It'ssobeautiful," I half sobbed and sank down on the floor. There was a huge island, and I meangigantic. The glossy bright-yellow stove had eight burners. The opposite wall contained a bank of four ovens nestled among cabinetry with white uppers and dark bottom cabinets. It was the kitchen of my dreams. There was even a cozy glass-enclosed nook that would be perfect to grow little pots of herbs. The floor was a white terrazzo, and the whole space gleamed.
The three blond men sitting at the island looked over at me.
"Josie?" Mace said.
"Don't mind me," I told him. "I'm just over here having a religious experience. This is a really nice kitchen. Also," I admitted, "I'm lost."
Mace grunted.
"Did I mention how freaking sexy your kitchen is? Like seriously," I said, unable to stop the word vomit.
"Your tiny house is through that door," he said, pointing.
"Right, well, have a good evening. Thanks for letting me squat on your property," I said with a wave. Mace and his brothers watched me head out the door. I thought I saw light and a bit of green up ahead. That must lead outside. But no, it was some sort of conservatory that contained a few lone plants.
"They need to up their plant game," I said, walking around. I turned around to go back the way I came in. There was more than one door in the conservatory, and I picked one at random.
Mace and his brothers stared at me when I opened it.
