Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“I don’t blame you.”
The driver comes around to open the door, and Miguel quickly snatches Prince’s leash. “Stay,” he orders.
I briefly wonder if I can hire him to train my dog just so I can hear those delicious commands.
I take back the leash, scoop Prince up and follow Miguel and Toni inside.
This is just a job, I tell myself. Just a job. Stay all professional, and everything will be just fine.
Chapter 8
Miguel
I’m not usually one who ends up in situations outside my control, but here I am, escorting the quirkiest woman I’ve ever met up to my home, with a dog and a child in tow. God, I need her help, though.
I also need a drink. Maybe three. The good stuff, hold the ice.
I’m grateful Samantha came with me, though, since I have more of an idea of what I’d do with the dog than what I’d do with the kid. I mean, at least with dogs you can throw them bones and put them in crates. With kids, you get locked up for that shit.
I chose this place on Beacon Hill not only because of the location—near the airport, my businesses, and in the heart of historical Boston—but because it’s the quietest, most tucked-away home in the heart of the city. Behind us, cars beep and trucks rumble by, voices shout and laughter bubbles up from small groups of pedestrians walking down the street. But once the doors shut, there’s nothing but utter, blissful quiet.
“Whooooaa,” Samantha breathes as we walk up the steps toward the entrance. We walk through a paved courtyard to get to the main door, set apart from the street. I love that it reminds me of my home in Tuscany. The courtyard has a circular table with three wrought-iron chairs, imported from Italy, framed with greenery to give us even more privacy. I like to sit out here at night, listening to the distant sounds of the city, with a cold drink and a book. When I have time, that is, which admittedly isn’t often.
“It’s nice, huh?” Toni says.
“What?” I type in the passcode to enter, curious what they’re “whoa-ing” about.
“This looks like a place where you’d have a butler or something,” Toni says, then she squints at me from behind her glasses. “Do you have a butler?”
I shake my head. Why would a single guy who likes to cook need a butler?
“Thought you were here last night?” Samantha asks Toni, shooting me an accusatory glance.
“Yeah, I was. Just thought maybe the butler had the night off or something.”
I give Samantha a look back. See?
“No butler.” I have cleaning ladies and a driver, but no butler.
I open the front door, and gesture for the two of them to go in. I glance at Toni’s choice of clothing and frown.
“Winnie bought you clothes,” I say to Toni. “I put some out this morning. Why did you change back into these? These look like—”
A sharp glance from Samantha cuts me off mid-sentence. She makes a chopping motion across her throat, and I don’t know if she’s telling me to stop talking or threatening to kill me. Knowing her, maybe both.
“I like my clothes,” Toni says, and that’s when I realize why Samantha didn’t want me to pry. Maybe it’s a touchy subject.
Toni walks in ahead of us, and that little mutt trots right in, sniffing around. I give Samantha a look, because I swear to God if he thinks he’s gonna lift that leg and—
“He’s house-trained,” she says, rolling her eyes, reading my mind.
“He’d better be.”
She huffs at me.
Prince trots down the hallway after Toni, and Samantha makes an incoherent grumble. I’m not sure what she says, but it isn’t anything polite, and I think it has something to do with me being house-trained.
While spacious inside, the homes on Beacon Hill tend to have narrow hallways and stairwells, having been built in colonial times. I have to duck entering the rooms and have had to make some adjustments to the layout to accommodate my larger frame, but it’s worth it for the location. From here, I’m a short walk away from the shops and restaurants on Charles Street, the Public Garden, and the Common.
“Wow,” Samantha says. “It really is gorgeous here.”
“Thank you.”
“Is that the Common? You can see the Common from here?”
I nod. “Yeah. It’s especially nice in the spring.” The main level is mostly for entertaining, with a large living room and piano. The windows offer views of the Boston Common, a large, spacious, outdoor park in Boston which has guided tours and street entertainers. One of my favorite places to take a walk.
“Oh my God. There’s a skylight?” Samantha says.
I nod. There’s a two-tiered covered patio here, with a skylight to bring in more sun. The patio leads into a formal dining room and the kitchen, which also has patio access. “I like things bright and sunny,” I say with a shrug.