Page 31 of Sinner’s Game

Chapter Eleven

“You’re kidding me,” I say as Ronan presses a remote to electronically open a thick wooden gate set inside a stone fence. “This is where you live?”

We’ve been driving through one of the neighborhoods nestled at the top of the hills that rise off the beach on the north side of town. It’s an adorable neighborhood, and the western-most homes have stunning views of the ocean from where they are perched atop the rocky cliffs.

Most of these homes are small, having been built as charming getaways for movie stars who would escape south from Los Angeles back in the Hollywood heyday. They’re all darling, but some of the properties have more gravitas, including the one that has always been my favorite. Until today I’d only seen it through binoculars while standing on the deck of my dad’s boat. It’s not accessible by walking north from the main beach because of a tumble of rocks that extend from the cliffs to the ocean. And you can’t get a peek at the house from the street because it’s behind this fence that has exactly zero points to peek through.

I know because I tried.

Basically, the place is completely private.

But now that the gate is opening, I have an unencumbered view, and I’m even more impressed than I expected.

The home itself is a darling white clapboard house surrounded by flowers and highlighted by a vine-covered trellis. It sits on one side of a gravel courtyard complete with a huge stone table that’s perfect for outdoor dining. I don’t see any windows on the street-facing side, but considering the property ends at the cliff’s edge, I’m quite certain that the long back wall is one giant sheet of glass.

While the home and courtyard are more than enough to impress, it’s the home’s companion that captured my imagination as a child. A huge lighthouse that rises up from the beach below, seemingly carved from the cliff itself, then extends into the sky above.

I turn in my seat to gape at Ronan as he drives through the gate, following a path that seemingly dead-ends at the lighthouse. “You’re full of surprises.”

He chuckles. “I like to think so. And yes. I live here.”

“Will you show me around? This is literally my favorite property in the entire town. If I’d known you lived here, I would have demanded a tour ages ago.”

“I’m glad to know it’s special to you. It is to me as well. And yes. I think a tour is in order. Especially since you’re staying for a while.”

“Right,” I say, his words reminding me that this isn’t a luxury vacation retreat. I’m here until my home is no longer a crime scene, the blood is cleaned up, and all the locks are changed. And, possibly, until I can find another place. Because who knows if Mr. Big’s next-of-kin will want to keep it as a rental.

And, honestly, as much as I love my place, I may not even want to keep my house because I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to walk through the living room again without seeing Mr. Big’s body on my floor. Maybe I should just talk to Ellie about moving into her rental.

Ronan still hasn’t killed the engine, and I glance toward him, wondering why we’re still in the car. Then he reaches up to the visor and pushes a button. Immediately, a set of camouflaged doors open in the lighthouse’s stonework. He drives in, then parks the Range Rover next to a classic Mustang convertible. “We’re here. Want the tour?”

“Are you kidding?” I scramble out, then let my eyes roam over the round room. It’s a garage, for sure, but also seems to double as a workspace.

“I do some work on the Mustang,” he says. “And I tinker,” he adds, pointing to what looks like a woodworking area.

“You live in here?” I tilt my head up, trying to imagine the rooms above us.

“Not exactly,” he says. “I use it as an office. I live in the house.”

“I’m so jealous. This has been my favorite property for as long as I can remember. I used to beg my dad to take out our boat so I could look at it. Once I even swam to shore.”

“Too bad I didn’t own it back then. It’s a private beach, you know. Would have been fun to catch you.”

I smirk. “Funny,” I say in a voice I hope sounds cool and casual, even though the thought of Ronan catching me on the beach is more than a little appealing. “But we need to work on our rules. If we’re just friends, then flirting is strictly—” I stop, mentally rewinding the conversation. “Own it? You own this place?”

“I have several properties around here, actually. The others I rent out.”

“Really? I never thought of you as the real estate mogul type.”

He chuckles. “I like to stay diversified.” His eyes narrow. “What type am I?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said you didn’t think of me as the real estate mogul type. So how did you type me?”

“Oh.” I wave his question away. “I guess just not that.”

“Bullshit. Come on. Tell me.”