In the end, it had been relatively easy to find the place since there was a raging party going on, and there were a ton of bikes and fancy sports cars in the lot.
It had been a whirlwind from there.
Honestly, I hadn’t expected such an immediate response from Remy. I figured I would have to lay it on thick, beg for his help, try to convince him to at least give me a little bit of advice.
I certainly hadn’t expected for him to just… jump into action. A white knight on a metal steed or whatever. It was crazy.
And, somehow, I met this anonymous rich guy that the fan site had referenced, though not by name.
Teddy.
A little person who wore a somewhat ridiculous bowler cap that he somehow managed to pull off and was just willing to toss keys to actual residences at a strange woman like it was nothing but his spare change.
I was honestly a bit lightheaded as I got back in my car and turned back toward the direction of my place.
I couldn’t even force two rational thoughts together. Which was new for me. My thoughts were usually all entwined in this absurd, knotted mess, so when I did think or speak, I could be discussing the weather and somehow manage to trace that thread back to some story about a talent show I’d done in elementary school.
But all my thoughts were little butterflies, flitting off before I could even grasp that they were there at all.
“Don’t judge me,” I demanded as the two of us got out of our cars out front of my house.
“Judge what? It’s nice,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t have my own place, and you think I’m gonna judge yours?” he added, brow raised.
“That’s true. It was my grandfather’s place. He left it to me because he said my parents didn’t need ‘another fucking house.’ Which is true. They have three. Which, objectively, is too much for any couple to have. I mean, maybe I can see having a vacation home if you are able to visit it often enough to justify the bills. But they have a place in Vermont that they literally never even visit. It’s a complete waste. I love my parents,” I added, not wanting to seem like I didn’t. “I just think some parts of their lifestyle are really wasteful.”
“You can love your parents and not approve of how they live their lives,” Remy said, shrugging.
“That sounds like that is from experience,” I said as I walked up to my door, hearing my little dogs already whimpering for me. I felt a stab of guilt hit my belly, knowing I was late for their last trip out for the night, and that I’d read somewhere that it was actually pretty mental damaging for a trained dog to go potty inside the house when they know they’re not supposed to.
“Got two parents who didn’t have time to be parents. They each have their good and bad,” he told me, choosing the words carefully.
I couldn’t blame him for that. He didn’t know me, not really. And not everyone had my tendency to blurt out damn near everything in their heads to everyone, including practical strangers.
“Okay, so it is a mess in here. My grandpa was old and the place hadn’t had an update since he bought it in like the sixties. I’ve been DIY’ing it for a while. But one thing always seems to lead to another thing, you know?
“Like I start to pull down the wallpaper only to realize I should probably sand and stain the floors, so I can tell which new paint color to go with. So then I start on the floors. Only to think that maybe the floors should match the kitchen cabinets. So I take the doors off to sand them down and then realize the old hardware won’t work, so I have to order those and wait for it all to come in. That kind of thing,” I said as I undid the final lock, and got love-mauled by my little dogs who then turned their attention to Remy.
“Hey, Mama,” I called to Alma who was wiggling too, but standing back toward the end of the hallway. “Sorry I’m late. You gotta go potty?” I asked, then all three dogs darted toward the back of the house.
“You know, I’m not sure that this is the right stain color for this house,” Remy said, making my stomach drop as I whipped around. “Christ,” he said, laughing. “The look on your face. I’m fucking with you. You did a good job,” he assured me. “But you do need some baseboards.”
“Ugh, don’t get me started on the damn baseboards,” I grumbled, walking through into the kitchen to start collecting dog food bags and cans as well as bowls. “Did you know there are like a dozen or more styles to choose from? Clamshell to three-piece and it is just impossible to decide. I really like the neat, ornamental ones…”
“But?” he asked, coming to grab the rolling plastic container of food from me.
“But they’re kind of over-the-top?”
“So what? Who the fuck cares. If that’s what you like, that’s what you like. It’s your house, not anyone else’s. You got any duct tape?”
“Damn it. I knew you were too good to be true. Fair warning, I have watched a lot of weird, dark romance movies. Duct taping and kidnapping me might make me fall in love with you then bang you in all sorts of public places. Like on a boat. Or up against a window of a high-rise apartment…”
To that, his brow raised, then a huge smile tugged at his lips.
“While I might not be opposed to any of that, I meant to tape this fucker closed, so the food doesn’t spill everywhere on the ride.”
“Oh, right. Well, then, ah, forget what I just said,” I told him, fishing out the duct tape, and handing it over.
“Baby, there’s not a single fucking chance I am forgetting any of that,” he said, shooting me a sexy little smirk.