Page 31 of Daddy to Go

My hand rubbed across the steering wheel.

“But the Camry’s reliable, gets you where you need to go, and you have other things in your life that are more important. I guess I don’t have a lot of that. So in a way, me being so in love with this car is kind of sad.”

Slowly Abby turned her head toward me and then rolled her eyes.

“Nice attempt to make me feel better but you can be obsessed with this car. I would be. No matter what.”

We both burst into laughter. Abby got me. She even saw through me when I tried to spare her feelings. Granted, I was never a very good liar, but still. We raced down through the town and out onto some backcountry roads. I put my hand out the window and felt the warm air quivering around it. Abby leaned her head back and smiled, the sun glinting in her hair. She looked like a glowing angel in the passenger seat.

I reached my hand over and took hers, winking as we headed for our mini-vacation. We didn’t even need to talk to have a good time. We spent half of the three-hour drive in silence, just enjoying the view, the wind, and the feeling of freedom. It was exciting to say the least.

“Have you been here before?” she asked, seeing the sign for the resort.

I looked out the window at the town coming up ahead.

“Nope. But I hear it’s a really amazing place to go for the beach, small crowds, and privacy. I knew we could have shacked up in Farmington, but I figured we should get away.”

Abby’s eyes darted out the window. “True. I mean, we aren’t doing anything wrong, but still. People in small towns tend to have small minds. To them we have a huge age gap and you’re my doctor too. It would be the scandal of the century.”

She giggled watching the buildings pass by. “But in reality, it’s just easier to not give them fuel for their fires. I like to stay under the radar, if at all possible. The old women are worse than high schoolers.”

I shook my head. “Believe it or not, Farmington isn’t the first town I’ve ever been to that has that problem. It’s insane. But hey, what else are you going to do when you’re old and brittle?”

Abby leaned forward as I turned down a long stone drive. Up ahead on the hill was a huge mansion. She gasped at its enormity and beauty.

“Oh my gosh, is this Breaker Villa?”

I grinned.

“Yep, it’s an amazing bed and breakfast,” I said. “It was converted a long time ago. It’s beautiful, right?”

Her mouth dropped open. “I’m going to be a princess. I’ve only seen places like these in magazines and on television. This is gorgeous. How did you find it?”

I pulled up to the curb in front of the valet. “I have an uncanny ability to always pick amazing places. I’ve had friends ask me to pick their vacations because they trust me so much. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just meant for vacation.”

“Ha!” Abby took off her seatbelt and climbed out of the car, smiling at the valet.

He gave me my number and I gave him the keys. “Do we take our luggage now?”

The guy shook his head. “Oh no, no, Dr. Rivington, we’ll see that it’s delivered to your room.”

“Thank you.” I handed him a tip and put my hand on Abby’s lower back as I guided her to the front doors.

Remembering my manners, I opened the door for her, watching her amazing ass as she walked in front of me. She was wearing a short peach colored sleeveless dress with a wide brown belt around the waist. Her sandals matched the belt and I wondered if she paid attention to those things. Not because it was important to me, but because I threw on a brown belt with black shoes that morning.

My eyes were glued to her, watching as she attempted to hide her awe at the hotel. There were lush thick carpets strewn across the stone floors, enormous sparkling crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and art and décor that was reminiscent of what a castle might have been like for a royal family. She turned in circles finding every beautiful piece of art she could.

Pointing at a piece on the column in the center of the room, her mouth dropped open.

“That’s theThree Trees. It is a 1643 print in etching and dry point by Rembrandt. It was his largest landscape print ever. I thought for certain it was either at the Rijksmuseum, the Musée des beaux-arts du Canada or the Bibliothèque Nationale de France.”

“The Bibliothèque Nationale de France, actually,” a man’s voice stated. We turned finding a middle-aged gentleman in a dapper suit with a flower in his jacket pocket. “We have it on loan. Fortunately, the owners of the castle have an amazing connection to the arts. We’ve been able to feature art by some of the most brilliant artists in the world here.”

Abby shook her head, looking back at it. “That is amazing.”

The man nodded. “Are you checking in?”

“Oh,” I said reaching in my pocket and pulling out the reservation. “Yes, we are.”