Page 17
“Yes, I remember. You pointed it out on the way through. You said it was the perfect house for a fairy princess or a witch.” He sounded amused, and heat flooded her cheeks.
Had she said that? She really needed to stop thinking aloud. She tried to keep her more whimsical side to herself.
“It’s my favourite house. It has turrets. What do you think they do up in those turrets? Is it a library? Or maybe a place for stargazing. Do you think someone sleeps up there? It would be an amazing bedroom. Very cool.” Her mind drifted. “It probably has a canopy bed and a cosy fire.”
“You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”
“Me?” She snapped back into the moment. “No. I wouldn’t say so. I’m deeply practical. Realistic. I’d say I’m a down-to-earth type.” She focused on the road, but she could feel him watching her.
“Most down-to-earth types don’t picture witches and princesses and bedroom turrets with canopy beds and cosy fires.”
“I do, so that disproves your theory. I always think you can tell a lot about a person from where they choose to live.” She wished she hadn’t mentioned the bed. Now she was thinking of Jason and a canopy bed. Not good.
He eased his seat back to give himself more legroom. “What would your home tell me about you?”
That she was living a sad, sad life.
And that most of the romantic stuff in her life happened in her head.
The relationships she had in her head were all perfect. It was the real-life ones that she messed up. She’d reached the stage where she preferred fantasy to reality.
“I’m currently between properties. When I moved from New Jersey for this job, I rented somewhere temporarily. I wanted to take time to get to know the city. Work out where I wanted to be.”
“And when did you start the job?”
“Er—a year ago. I know—you’re thinking that doesn’t sound exactly temporary, but I’ve been busy. When things calm down at work, I’m going to take some time to find somewhere else.” No way could she bring herself to think of this new place as permanent. It was a stopgap, until she could find something better.
But better was never going to be a fairy tale house with turrets.
She dismissed that negative thought. It was up to her to build the life she wanted.
Maybe she could rent a turret. One room. Still small, but at least it would have character.
“I’ve seen you transform other people’s homes, but what does your own home look like?”
Bland.
She was barely in an apartment long enough to care what was on the floor or the walls.
“My style is—fluid.” She frowned and slowed down, trying to make out something in the landscape that was familiar. “Surely, we should have reached the house by now? Once we pass that it’s not far to the next junction, and then the main road. I’ve been driving slowly because of the weather, which might explain why we haven’t reached it yet. I’m sure everything will be fine. We’ll soon be home safe, and we’ll look back on this and laugh about it.”
“You think?”
“Of course. You’re going to be dining out on this story for years. You’ll say, I remember one Christmas when I drove home in a blizzard … and everyone will be listening with round eyes and open mouths, and women will be thinking you’re some kind of sexy outdoor adventurer and hoping for a hookup.” She heard a sound that could have been laughter.
“I had no idea this experience was going to be of so much use to me.”
“It will. Trust me. You can milk it like a dairy cow.” She slowed down as the road vanished in a wall of white. “I don’t want to worry you, but I can’t see anything. Which is exciting in one way, because life shouldn’t be too predictable, but it’s also—”
“Scary?”
“Maybe. A little. And mystifying. Because not only do I have no idea where we are or where we’re going but I can no longer be sure we’re even on the road.” She’d slowed to little more than a crawl.
“I think you’re on the road.” He leaned forward. “Why did our client have to live in the middle of nowhere?”
“He’s rich. Rich people like privacy. And land.”
“If we have an accident here, it will be ages before anyone finds us. If they find us at all.”
