Page 80 of Crash Course
Her gaze narrowed, her lush lips coming to a pucker that damn near begged for him to lean in and . . .
"I’m a criminal defense attorney," she said. "In my experience, surprises aren’t fun."
Considering she probably dealt with murderers and lowlifes on the daily, he saw her point, but she needed to lighten up. Cut loose a little and enjoy spontaneity.
He reached up and gently tugged on her poker-straight hair. "Trust me. This’ll be fun. I promise. You’ll need a jacket."
For a few seconds, they stood in the quiet kitchen, gazes locked while Cilla decided. If she’d insisted on knowing, he’d tell her. No problem there. In his mind, respecting people meant not pushing his own agenda on them. If she didn’t like surprises, he’d deal with it.
"Okay." She nodded. "I could use some fun. But seriously, I have work to do after. Let me get my jacket."
"Might want to change your shoes, too. Something you can walk in."
She saluted. "Sir, yes, sir."
At that, he laughed. Cilla the smart-ass.
Ten minutes later, after grabbing her jacket and tote and doing who knew what else women did that took ten minutes and left Cruz leaning against his truck while waiting, Cilla walked out the Friary’s front door. She strode toward him, her long, jean-encased legs and running shoes drawing every bit of his attention.
He enjoyed seeing her in her high-powered suits, but tight jeans? They made his heart—and other things—go pitter-patter.
As she approached, the path lights illuminated her and he noted the fresh layer of creamy red lipstick that made her eyes pop. Total vixen, this one.
He opened the passenger door and then pointed at the tote strung over her shoulder. "You won’t need that. We’re not leaving the property."
She paused before climbing in, her green eyes a little snappy because—oh, right—she didn’t like surprises.
"Sorry," he said. "Guess I could have told you that."
She settled herself into the truck and buckled her seat belt like they’d be in traffic or something.
City girls.
He hopped in the driver’s side, ignored the seat belt, and fired up the truck for the drive down the dirt road that would lead them to their destination.
On the way, he cruised by the tiny chapel they’d left intact when they bought the property. Moonlight threw shadows across stained glass, but otherwise, the building sat almost invisible in the darkness.
Cruz pointed. "That’s the chapel. This property was an abandoned church camp when we bought it. The Friary and chapel were here, along with some cabins and barns. Mom liked the chapel and wanted to keep it. The marble floors, stained glass and pews are original, but they were in rough shape. She had those refinished."
Cilla leaned forward, staring out his window as they cruised by. "I’d like to see it in the daylight."
"Sure. Just need to make sure it’s empty. We have an unwritten rule that if one of us is in there, nobody goes in. Unless it’s an emergency."
"I love that rule. It must be peaceful inside."
Oh, hell, yes. "It is. It’s tough sometimes. Living with so many people. Someone’s always up your ass."
The rustling sound of fabric, drew his gaze to where she shifted to face him. "This property is amazing. Would you ever leave all this?"
He’d been asking himself that very question for months. He peered over at her. The dashboard lights illuminated the cab and he met her gaze. "I’d be foolish. Right?"
And why the hell was he asking her? She hadn’t lived here. Hadn’t roamed these grounds and sat staring up at stars on clear nights, like tonight, listening to wildlife.
God’s country, his mother said.
He didn’t disagree.
"Not at all," Cilla said. "It’s beautiful, for sure. You have everything you need. No city sounds. No sirens waking you up at all hours. The view from the guest suite is stunning."
