Page 82 of Buckin' Around

The first bedroom is pretty big by comparison to the rest of the spaces. I cross the hall to find another, the mirror image of the first.

Okay... so either we have to share a bed, or Ivy shares with someone. I guess I could take the sofa. It’s only for another five and a half months or so.

“Riles?” Spencer’s voice echoes through the small house.

I make my way back toward him.

“Holy shit, what the hell was I thinking?” He’s running a hand through his hair, his cowboy hat in his hands. He must be here a little early to see Brady before they leave?

No, that doesn’t make sense.

“Hey, thought you weren’t coming out till Monday?”

A cheeky grin splits his gorgeous face, blue eyes lighting up. “Couldn’t resist taking a peek at our first place together, O’Malley.”

I roll my eyes at him as he walks down the hallway.

“I saw that, Riles.” He pokes his head into the first room.

The hell? How? He was literally looking the other way.

“Geez, maybe we should ask Mrs. Henderson to take us in. Out of pity, you know.” He’s smiling, and I can’t tell if it’s mirth or covering for worry.

“It’s perfectly fine.”

“It’s third world. How does Brades let people live here?”

“Your rich boy is showing, Lockwood. Fix that.”

He pulls a face, and I can’t help but scrunch my own face to prevent the smile that so desperately wants out from forming.

“Well, Ives is going to need her own room. So that means you and I will have to bunk together.” He closes the distance between us.

I look up, narrowing my eyes. “I’ll take the sofa, you eejit.”

“Nope, no way.”

“It’s your house, Spencer. I’ll take the sofa.”

All amusement drains from his face. “Right.”

His throat bobs.

Wandering to the kitchen, I stand in the center, taking in the small cottage. I can make it a home. A sliver of excitement winds through my veins. This little old place has so much potential.

I haul in a breath. “I will make this Ivy’s first house and make it feel like a home.”

Spencer’s standing behind me, and when I glance back, I have to look up. His cowboy hat hangs between his fingers by his side, his warmth is at my back, and this feels like something it shouldn’t.

“Riles...” His hands curl around my biceps, his breath sinking into my hair.

I suck in a lungful of air.

I—

“It is your home, too,” he says softly.

For a moment, a sliver of a second, I let myself entertain the idea of creating a home here. With Ivy.