Page 6 of Falling for a Grumpy Hero

LILA

H e brought me with him. He actually freaking brought me with him.

Absolutely buzzing with excitement, I sat in the passenger seat of Ford’s truck, a Toyota ironically, and watched the wooded landscape outside the inner city speed past.

When he’d first grunted that I could come to this meeting with him, I’d been convinced he didn’t mean it, that he would never follow through. He didn’t seem like the type to like company on a road trip, but when he’d started gathering his things, he’d actually barked at me to do the same.

And sure, it hadn’t been a nice, polite, or welcoming invitation, but at least it’d meant he was bringing me with him. Besides, I supposed I didn’t really count as company on this particular road trip since he’d barely said a word since we left the office.

Still intrigued by the man, I didn’t mind his silence right now, though. The truck was giving me plenty of clues about him. For example, he had to be an obsessively neat person.

Not only had I never seen any clutter on his desk or in his office, but his vehicle was the same. I didn’t think he’d ever eaten or had anything to drink in here. The only thing that I suspected hadn’t come standard with this truck was the air freshener placed neatly in the center console.

Everything else was as if he’d driven it off the showroom floor seven seconds ago, as clean as a whistle and without a single scratch.

I shifted a little in my seat, curious to see if I could spot an empty chip bag or water bottle in the back, but I didn’t see any of those things.

Interestingly, I did see what appeared to be some dog hairs.

Not a whole lot. In fact, the entire seat had maybe three or four hairs on it, but they were short and spiky, definitely not belonging to a human. So unless he was a werewolf…

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Hey, I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“Why would you know that?” he asked, barely glancing at me before turning his gaze back to the road stretching out ahead of us. “You’ve never asked and I’ve never volunteered the information.”

I smiled. “That’s seems fair. What’s its name? What kind of dog is it?”

He groaned. “Do you ever stop talking or asking questions?”

“Yeah, I stop the moment you start.”

He sighed. “Great.”

“Can I see a picture?”

“I’m driving,” he said in a tone that made me think he felt like he needed to remind me of that fact. But then, surprisingly, he sighed again and handed me his phone. “There are pictures in there. His name is Rook and he’s a German Shepherd, black Labrador mix.”

I held the device in my hand, feeling a frown furrowing my brow. “You’re going to let me look for the pictures on your phone by myself? As in, you’re letting me scroll through your gallery?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Seriously taken aback, I wondered if I should take him up on it or just give the phone back, but he didn’t seem like the type who’d have offered if he wasn’t okay with it.

My ex had never let me touch his phone, let alone open it, so this was entirely new to me.

“I, uh, I need the code, but I could also wait until we get there.”

He shrugged. “Well, if you want to look now, the code is 2015,06,11. We’re going to have to work when we get there.”

He gave me the pass code as if he had nothing to hide. I keyed them in, realizing that those numbers could easily be a date. November 6, 2015.

I didn’t ask, though. Instead, I glanced down, surprised when the screen actually unlocked and I found myself staring at a picture of a very blockish building on his home screen. “Are you a fan of brutalist architecture?”

“Uh, no. I just haven’t changed that image. It’s the one that was on there when I bought the phone. Why?”

“Oh.” I scrolled to the gallery icon and clicked into it, but when I glanced at him to make sure this really was okay, I noticed a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. Forgetting about pictures of his dog for a moment, I focused on him, curious to know what he was curious about. “What is it?”

“Nothing. You mentioned brutalism, that’s all.”

I chuckled. “Is there something wrong with mentioning brutalism?”

“No, it’s just not something people bring up in everyday conversation.” That strong jawline clenched for some reason, but it released when he started slowing in front of a gate to a mansion that took my breath away.

I hadn’t even realized that we were near Heritage House—or that we’d reached a residential area again yet at all. On the other hand, as I looked out my window, I could understand why. The properties in this wooded paradise were huge.

From our vantage point, I couldn’t see a single neighboring home. The only sign that other people lived along this lane was a signpost outside another gate halfway to the next bend in the road, which was pretty far away from us.

As I turned my attention back to the mansion we were parked outside of, I practically felt my eyes bulge.

The longer I looked at it, the more breathtaking it became.

From Ford’s notes, I knew the house was over two hundred years old, but knowing that and seeing it were two completely different things.

Built in the colonial era, the double-story home had a gray, gabled roof and at least twelve symmetrical, multi-paneled windows. It had red-brick siding and a central, grand front door.

A long, gravel drive led up to it from the ornate gates and Virginia pine trees towered along either side of it. I sucked in an involuntary, sharp breath and Ford glanced at me as he pressed the button to open his window.

Our gazes connected and I felt a bolt of desire slam through me, so powerful that I was a little shocked by it, but I didn’t break eye contact. I could look into those dark, stormy blue eyes all day.

Unfortunately, Ford didn’t seem to feel the same way. He finally turned his entire upper body away from me and leaned out the window to punch in the code to the gate. Without looking at me again, he let the window slide back up, then started inching forward when the gates swung open.

Gravel crunched under his tires as we rolled onto the property and I tried to calm my racing heart by staring at the stunning home we’d come to see. As we neared it, however, I realized that what had appeared perfect from the road actually seemed a little down.

The once-grand home rose into clearer view as we drove and my insides gave a pang when I saw that several windows had been boarded up and about half the roof was starting to cave.

I didn’t know if he’d read my mind or if he was simply saying it out loud to remind himself, but Ford suddenly started explaining our presence here.

“There have been several additions over the centuries,” he said quietly, as if his voice was being hushed by the grandeur we were approaching.

“All of those have added to the structural issues, which is why an engineering firm is being brought in. I’ll be honest with you though, the issues it has are almost damning.

It’s going to be a huge challenge, and that’s why so many engineers have wanted a crack at it that there’s been a bidding war over who gets the job. ”

Glad that he was driving slowly enough that I could get a really good view of the place, I leaned forward and stared up at it through the windshield. I already knew that Ford hired subcontractors for general construction, but this sure looked like a lot of work.

Years of work, actually.

But I’d looked through his company’s portfolio, and it was obvious to me that he was the best in the business. I just needed to convince the clients of that now, too.

In front of the house, an expansive area that was also covered in gravel seemed to be a parking lot of sorts, and Ford rolled to a stop in the space closest to the steps leading up to the front door.

I heard him inhale a deep breath, and when I glanced at him, I found him staring up at the building with the softest expression on his face I’d ever seen there.

It only lasted a moment, though. The next thing I knew, that stony mask was back and he was opening his door.

He climbed out of the truck, his suit jacket stretching effortlessly across his broad shoulders, yet those slight lines it formed as it pulled were so sexy.

They drew my eyes to the sharp planes of his body and the bulge of his bicep under his sleeve.

I swallowed in an attempt to bring some moisture back to my suddenly dry mouth, but before I could completely compose myself and follow him out of the car, the front door opened.

I recognized the older couple who appeared in the doorway instantly.

Eliza and Rodrigo Fierra, the owners of Heritage House.

After speaking to Eliza so extensively, I’d looked her up, and unlike my boss, these two had a huge presence online. I’d seen dozens of pictures of them.

Stuffing my desire for the surly man I worked for into the cage inside where it belonged, I mentally locked it up before I jumped out of the car. Eliza spotted me immediately, a wide grin spreading on her lips as she swept over to me with her arms open wide.

“Lila, darling! It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

I returned the woman’s smile, finding it hard to process this was a world-renowned artist who seemed so freaking happy to be meeting me . “It’s an honor, Ms. Fierra.”

“Oh, stop it with that. Call me Eliza, please.” She didn’t stop walking until she reached me, pulling me into a quick but loose hug. “I was delighted when I received your email that you would be joining us today.”

“I was delighted to send it.” I grinned as I stepped out of her arms and turned toward her husband.

Both of them had aged gracefully, their faces a little crinkled and their black hair streaked through with silver, but their eyes were so alive and happy that I instantly knew they belonged to my tribe.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Rodrigo.”