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TEN
Oliver lived in a quiet suburban area fifteen minutes from Schultz Cottage. The neighborhood was looking festive for the upcoming Halloween weekend—orange lanterns and sheets as ghosts hanging in trees, purple and orange lights strung up on houses, skeletons and cardboard gravestones in yards. One house even had a gigantic spider that appeared to be crawling up the side of it.
The first thing that struck Adelia as they pulled into Oliver’s driveway at the end of a cul-de-sac were the lights lining the sidewalk that led to two large potted plants on either side of the steps of a wide front porch. It was very inviting. Even in the dark, she could tell the yard was nicely landscaped.
She climbed out of the car, and Oliver was already out, grabbing her bags from the trunk. He led her along the sidewalk and up the steps of his two-story Cape Cod home. There were two rocking chairs to one side of the porch and a swing at the opposite end. She could picture Oliver sitting out there, sipping lemonade on a hot summer day, shirtless after working on the lawn, beads of sweat dripping down his neck and trailing along his solid chest.
“Adelia?” Oliver pulled her from her unexpected daydream.
“Sorry, what?”
“We should get inside before someone sees you.”
“I’ve never had a porch swing,” she remarked as she followed him inside, sweeping her inappropriate thoughts away, willing the blush in her cheeks to disappear, even as her eyes traveled to his backside.
“Really?” He moved through the entryway and into the open living area.
“I’ve never even had a front porch to put a swing on.”
“Well, I’m sure you didn’t miss it with the ocean out your back door.”
Why did she suddenly miss a porch swing she’d never had?
“Come on in,” he motioned for her to enter, and she took in the space, which surprised her with its quaint and tidy appearance. Not the manly bachelor pad she expected. Olly was all man, not like the guys she’d been involved with throughout her twenties, but he clearly had a nice sense of style.
“You have a lovely home.”
“Thank you.” He set her things down and moved to the windows, quickly closing all the drapes. “Make yourself at home while I put your stuff in the guest room. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. I’ll be right back.” At that, he disappeared up the stairs with her bags.
She ambled around the room, taking everything in. The more she looked things over, the more she felt like this space had a woman’s touch, and that made her wonder if there was a woman in his life. She’d never thought to ask. She was fairly certain he was single, based on Skylar’s comments, but had he always been? Probably not if he was nearing forty.
Heavy footsteps moved across the ceiling above her as she went to the kitchen and looked inside the fridge—water, pop, beer. She grabbed an amber-colored bottle and tried screwing off the top, but it didn’t budge. She riffled through a couple of drawers, looking for a bottle opener.
Oliver’s footfalls sounded on the stairs, and he joined her in the kitchen.
“Where’s your bottle opener?” she asked.
He gently took the bottle from her hand, rested the lid against the counter’s edge, and smacked the top with his hand, causing the lid to pop off and clink on the tile below.
She grinned up at him as he offered the bottle back to her. She almost told him how hot that was but caught herself just in time. “Thanks. Do you want one?”
“Maybe later. Are you hungry? I could fix something, or we could order out.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Maybe later.” She walked into the living room and plopped down onto his big comfy sofa and took a swig of beer. “How long have you lived here?”
“Eighteen years.” He sat down in the recliner across the room.
Her eyes widened. “And have you always lived alone?”
“No.”
“Roommate?”
“No.”
Adelia’s eyebrow raised. “Was there a Mrs. Ollywood?” She asked the question teasingly, but his eyebrows squeezed together, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m sorry. That was absolutely none of my business.”
“It’s okay. I was married, but I’m not anymore.”