“Well let’s just look at it, if the couch looks comfy enough, great. If not, we’ll find something else.”
“Alright.” She grins. “But I’ll be the one on the couch.”
Makenna quickly found the treehouse, and surprisingly it’s still available from when they canceled. She was right. The place is dead brilliant. It’s like a grownup version of a kid’s treehouse. It’s small, but it has windows that would surely make you feel like you’re sleeping in the trees. And an out-of-this-world hot tub.
“What do you think about the couch?” Makenna asks. I click back to the photo of the living space.
“It’s hard to tell how big it is.”
“Yeah. It looks comfy enough, though. I could do it, I think,” she says.
“Or I could. Let’s book it!”
27
Makenna
WepulluptoMalcolm’s family home and I’m stunned by how picturesque it is. It reminds me of a farmhouse, only made of stone.
“Is there a farm?”
“No. Neither of my parents were interested in farming. But it was a farm when my great-grandparents owned it. My parents inherited it from them.” We park behind a line of three cars and get out. Malcolm meets me in front of the car, and points to a barn in the distance. “My da uses the barn for his bee boxes. He worries about the bees when it’s cold, even though he knows better. The bees that live here are acclimatized to the weather.”
“He keeps them in the barn to keep them warm?”
“Yep.”
“Ah. That’s sweet.”
Malcolm laughs. “I guess so.”
He opens the front door, then places his hand on my lower back, urging me in first. I’ve seen this sort of interaction in movies, but I’ve never had a man do this with me. Maybe that’s due to the fact that I’ve only made it past the second date once, and Ross wasn’t the type of guy to do it. Not that Malcolm and I are dating. We’re simply comfortable with each other at this point.
I have to say, I don’t hate it. His ease with me, or the feel of his hand. Clearly, I’ve been missing his hands since he warmed me this morning at the castle.
I nearly step straight into two women, who seem to have seen us coming and been waiting. They must be Malcolm’s two older sisters. They’re tall, around my height. One has long curls, the same color as Malcolm’s, and the other has a stick-straight black bob. They’re both gorgeous. Which should be no surprise given Malcolm’s their brother.
“Makenna! Welcome,” the red head says with barely restrained energy. “I’m Ailsa.”
“And I’m Isla,” the dark-haired beauty speaks up. “Lovely to meet you.” Isla is clearly the more reserved of Malcolm’s two older sisters, but her smile is kind and genuine.
Malcolm steps in and kisses them both on the cheek.
“It’s really nice to meet you both,” I say.
“Ohh. What a cute accent!” Ailsa says, then turns her gaze to her brother. “Malcolm, you didny tell us how cute her accent is.”
“Were you expecting me to give you a list of all her cute attributes?”
Ailsa laughs. “Yes, of course.”
“I guess you’ll be able to see some of them tonight, but about her accent”—he turns and looks at me—“it’s even cuter when she sings.”
I feel my face flame. Why do I have to be so pale? I turn my attention to the house. I’m no expert, but it looks to me that the home has been well preserved, the original details honored, and well kept. I’m not trying to kick anyone from their home, but I wish this was my house.
“This place is stunning. And all the land? What a place to grow up,” I say, hoping to turn the subject from me and my supposed cute attributes.
“You know, Malcolm might end up with this place before long. Mam and Da are always talking about moving somewhere smaller.” Ailsa says, then Isla elbows her in the ribs.
