Page 28 of Who’s Playing You (In The Nick of Time #1)

SCOTTIE ANDERSON

W hat was I doing?

Seriously?

I think I have officially lost my marbles. My common sense. My mind.

As my Honda Element climbed the hill up the driveway to the most gorgeous house that there’d ever been in existence, I yet again questioned what in the actual fuck I was doing.

How did I get here? Further, how did he get here?

Come to find out, Nicholas not only lived in New Hope, but he owned the big Victorian on the hill. The one that everyone has always admired, or at least should admire in my opinion.

This past spring there was some scuttlebutt about it having been sold, and then the whole town noticed all the hub of construction vehicles and vendors coming and going. Only to find out, the guy who I’ve been spending time with - my student - lives there.

So again, I question what I am doing, but further question who he actually is. And how is it that I’ve gotten so wrapped up in this guy, so quickly?

As my car crested the hill, the grand house came into view.

Wow, it really was spectacular. Especially since it had been given a sprucing up and now it looked almost as if it were brand new.

It quite literally took my breath away entering the barnyard that had a couple of light pewter blue barns and then the house off to one side.

And then the view.

Oh my God, the view !

Talk about spectacular and breathtaking. From where the house sat, it was an almost 360 degree unobstructed view not only of the Catskill Mountain range but from here you could actually see across the river into Dutchess County, and further up north towards the Capitol Region. It was beautiful.

I pulled my car to a stop in the parking area where I saw Nicholas’s Bronco, but there were also a couple of other cars there that all looked very expensive. I assumed I’d be okay parking here too.

I didn’t have much time to second-guess my parking location because before I knew it, Nicholas was walking out from the front door of the house and toward me. Clad with a megawatt smile.

I immediately melted.

Further reaffirming what an awful idea this was.

Awful, awful. The worst idea, in fact.

Was it too late to back out? Shit, he was waiting for me to get out of the car.

When I finally pushed the door open and took a fortifying breath, he beat me to the greeting, “Hey Scottie, I’m so glad you made it. Did you find the place okay?”

“Oh, um, yeah. No worries.”

“Great. Do you want to come in, have a grand tour before we get started?”

“If you’d like,” I left it to him, not knowing how much time he had on his hands, but I certainly wasn’t going to stop him from giving me a grand tour of this piece of local history.

As I rounded the back of the car, doubt crept back in. I stopped simultaneously, placing my hand by his elbow to stop him as well. “Listen, I truly appreciate you inviting me here and offering what you offered, but… Now that some time has passed…” It was as if I couldn’t get the words out.

“Now that some time has passed, what ?” he implored me. “Oh,” he kind of hummed, as if he were disappointed. “Do you no longer want to do this?” Then he grew serious. “Did you find someone else?”

I quickly rectified that assumption, “Oh, no no, there isn’t another model. I just… Nicholas, you don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to feel… I don’t know, obligated, pressured or guilted into doing this for me. It’s quite… exposing.”

“I have nothing to hide from you,” he replied confidently. “I’d love to do this for you, with you. And experience this with you. So is that all this is right now? You’re just worried about me?”

“Well, yeah. I would hate for you to feel awkward or feel like I pressured you into something…”

“Scottie, I’m going to stop you right there,” and as he cut me off and said that, I quickly snapped my mouth closed because he said it with such finality.

“First off, I don’t do anything that I don’t want to do.

Second, I certainly don’t volunteer myself to do something I am not comfortable with doing. ”

I let out a relieved breath. “Okay, well that’s good,” I hedged. “Is there a third?” I asked as I looked up at him through my lashes.

“Third,” he said in a quieter way, but almost growled it through clenched teeth as he took two steps closer to me, only to bend at his knees so he was more at eye level with me.

“I’d happily do anything for you.” He let that sink in for a moment before he grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers and started towards the house.

“Now let’s go, honey, we have a busy day ahead of us. ”

“Your house is so beautiful, Nicholas. Like… wow! Your contractors did an incredible job renovating it. And I can’t believe this is all done,” I said in wonderment as I spun, taking in the room.

“How in the world did they pull all of this off in such a short period of time? I mean, you don’t even have furniture,” I said teasingly, looking around the open concept kitchen and living room area.

“Oh, that… we don’t have to worry about the furniture quite yet, we’ve got time to find the perfect pieces. Right?”

“Oh, umm, sure. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of time,” I conceded, a little confused by his question that felt more like a statement.

And then it hit me.

He had not said that singularly. But he used a plural: we, not I.

And oh my God, I was yet again feeling like a fish out of water because was he spoken for? Did he have a partner? A wife? A husband? Who’s we ? And if there was another person, what in the actual fuck was I doing here?

If there was indeed a we, well then that put me squarely in the wrong. I was overstepping, knowingly or not - it didn’t matter.

I had been flirting back, hesitantly at first, but nonetheless, I had flirted! And unless I was so out of touch, he’d been flirting with me too. He called me honey for Christ’s sake.

Then another thought hit me: what if he was just an overly open and affectionate person?

One who held his friends’ hands, called them by a pet name.

Oh my God I was spiraling and I had probably read this whole situation wrong, and now I was here - in a home he had just had renovated for him and a life partner, because who would renovate a house like this unless you were making a home here - a life! A life with another person.

He called me honey.

They say the first thing to go is the mind and I couldn’t trust mine anymore - obviously - because the level of wrong I was right now has hit new heights. And then a second thought hit me: was he trying to have an affair with me?

Oh hell to the no!

I needed to get the fuck out of here. Now.

“Hey, where’d you go right now and why do you look like Bambi?” Nicholas asked with such care and concern as his right hand held my hip so I looked right at him.

“Bambi?” I questioned, because what ? Nothing made sense right now.

“Yeah, Bambi, as in a deer - you look like a deer in headlights. What’s going on, honey?”

“You can’t call me that…” I breathed out on a whispered exhale, trying to scramble my brain to find us a way out of this.

He looked confused and his left hand brushed a lock of stray hair away from my face. “Why?” he asked with complete and utter confusion.

“That’s a term of endearment, and…”

“And you’re becoming dear to me, Scottie.” That shut me right up. What do you even say to that anyway? And what did that mean?

My brain stuttered. He just kept looking into my eyes. His grey eyes were mesmerizing and I was lost in their trance.

Finally, I whispered, “You said ‘we’...”

His eyes narrowed as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle. “We? I said we? What do you mean?”

I cleared my throat, finding my strength and honor, “About the house, about decorating and furnishing… That ‘we’ had time… I’m not comfortable being here without your other half of the ‘we’ present, Nicholas, I’m not a cheater.

And I am especially not continuing on with the model session…

I don’t care for any trouble or to cause any issues for people. ”

His face released the tension it had been holding and a kind smile graced his beautiful mouth. He then simply replied with an, “Oh. I see.” He then twirled my same strand of hair around his finger as his right fingers dug deeper into my hip.

“I guess that was a slip of the tongue on my part…” he began.

“I’m not a cheater,” I quickly reiterated and cut him off.

He grinned before engulfing me in a big hug that took me by surprise as he chuckled into my neck. “Oh, I know Scottie. Your loyalty and honesty are two of the things I really like about you.”

“Umm, thank you?”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he replied simply. “Now come on, let me show you the rest,” he said as he released me from his hug and intertwined his fingers with mine and began tugging me out of the kitchen area. But my feet stood planted to the ground.

“Nicholas,” I said in exasperation.

He turned and looked at me with confusion again, “What is it, you don’t want to see the rest of the house?”

I breathed out a cleansing breath. “You can tell me it’s none of my business, and I might be totally off but…

” I took another breath and hoped that I wasn’t about to embarrass myself.

“You just said ‘we’, which indicates that you and someone else are living here, yet you have been…” I pinched the bridge of my nose.

God, why was this so hard and embarrassing?

“Go on, say it,” he implored me on a faint whisper with a look in his eyes that almost undid me. “I’ve been what?”

“Very… affectionate and attentive towards me,” I finally said.

“Firstly, anyone who isn’t attentive to you and your needs is an idiot. But as for the ‘we’...” he let it hang in the air while he seemingly threw explanations around in his head.

“Please be straight with me,” I now implored him.

He stilled and looked at me and immediately responded, “Always. But alright. Straight it is. I like you.”

He said it as a statement and let it hang in the air.

When I just gaped at him he continued, “A lot. And I hope you kind of like me too,” he said almost playfully and almost more like a question that he let linger.

“There’s no one else here - living here or in my life in that capacity.

And I suppose I got a little ahead of myself when I spoke earlier, because I was referring to…

us , having time. I thought maybe your creativity and inspiration could help me out when it comes to figuring out the right pieces for the house,” he finished.

His thought process and explanation took me quite by surprise because not only did he confess to liking me, but he also wanted me to help him decorate his house?

What was I? A fucking interior designer now?