Page 203 of Wrecked
He forced a smile. “All good.” His gaze floated over her face.
She smiled up at him. “I’ve got more bags.”
He loaded the second suitcase, then followed her inside. Once they’d filled her vehicle, they caravanned back to his townhouse.
After they brought everything into the living room, she hitched her hands to her hips and stared at the bags, duffels, and suitcases. “I’ll do this later. Let’s go play. I hardly ever call out at work.”
They hopped in his sports car and drove out of his neighborhood.
“Where should we go?” she asked.
“I got this,” he replied.
Addison turned up the tunes and started singing along. He joined her and they finished out the song.
“I love singing with you,” she said. “I love that sometimes you’re in tune, sometimes you aren’t. There are times when we hit the harmonies just right. It’s never the same and it always makes me happy.”
At the stop light, he leaned over and kissed her. “I hope that’s how our life is. Never the same, and it always makes you happy.”
She smiled. “I love that you’re so romantic.”
He drove to the farmhouse. As he was parking, she said, “Somehow, all roads lead us here. I had a feeling this is where we’d end up.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
She shrugged. “No idea.”
He led her inside and up the stairs, then into one of the back bedrooms. He opened the window, stepped onto the flat roof of the back porch. He turned back, extended his hand.
She clasped it, climbed out. They walked to the middle and sat, staring out at the acres and acres of property.
“This is a fantastic view,” she said.
“When I’d spend summers here, this was my bedroom,” Hawk explained. “I’d climb out here at night, lay on the roof and stare up at the universe. When I was a teen, I smoked weed out here.” Hawk smiled at the memory. “One time, Granddad joined me, took one hit, then told me to never, ever smoke it again.”
They shared a laugh.
“Did you?” she asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Drugs aren’t my thing, plus I respected him so much, I didn’t want to disappoint him.”
She ran the back of her fingers down his whiskered cheek.
“This place always felt like home to me, though I loved the house I grew up in,” Hawk continued. “I haven’t been on the roof in years. Feels right to be here with you.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“Do you think I should sell or renovate the house and cultivate the land?”
“Would you live here?” she asked.
He turned toward her. “Hard to give up my townhouse. I love having a view of the river.”
“You can have both,” she replied.
