After the Climb (River Rain #1) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,44
her home, they’d torn each other’s clothes off and had sex on the carpet five feet from her front door.
“I find that a compliment,” he told Genny’s daughter.
“It was meant as one,” she replied. “And newsflash, Bowie, I love my mom loads. But I’m not the type of gal, and she isn’t either, that would let anything stand in the way of something that means something. And it means something, you and me being amies. So my mission today is to find some boots so we can go riding tomorrow. And I’m leaving them up here because I have no use for riding boots in Phoenix. And because we’re going to go riding again.”
“Your wish is my command,” he replied.
“As it should be,” she stated.
Christ, he liked this kid.
He grinned at her.
She shot him a sassy smile then turned to the drive and cried, “Ma mère chérie!” and flung herself down the steps.
His body automatically jolted.
Nope.
He was still worried about her in those heels.
“My dastardly, nefarious daughter!” Genny, who was out of her car and rounding the hood, cried back.
But her face said she didn’t mean it.
And Duncan started chuckling.
“You know you love me,” Chloe stated, throwing her arms around her mom.
“She makes it hard. I best the mother of the year competition every year with all her varied tests, but I do it,” Genny called up to Duncan, and he noted she was holding her daughter close.
Duncan watched, but he did it aware there were things he refused to see.
No.
Feel.
He’d unpack that later.
Maybe with Genny.
More likely with Harvey.
They broke apart only for Chloe to seize Genny’s hand and start dragging.
“Come!” she shouted. “You must have le grand tour.”
“Lead the way, my darling,” Genny said unnecessarily, since her daughter was pulling her up the steps.
Duncan watched and noted their outfits weren’t much different.
Gen’s sweater was crewneck and fitted. She had a little scarf tied around her neck. And the heel height on her booties wasn’t stratospheric.
Still not Prescott.
But at this point, he couldn’t imagine either woman in anything less.
Chloe tugged her mother to a stop in front of him.
“Hello, Duncan,” Genny greeted.
“Genny.”
She looked nervous again and unsure what to do.
So he caught her by the side of the neck, pulled her in and up, and kissed her cheek.
The woman was blushing when he let her go.
“Maman, vraiment?” Chloe murmured teasingly.
“Shut up,” Genny mumbled.
Duncan made note look up the word “vraiment.”
“Tour!” Chloe exclaimed. “Then I’m vanishing so you old people can do boring things like chat over coffee. Come, Mummy. Come, Bowie.”
And off Chloe went, again dragging her mother with her.
But Genny looked over her shoulder and mouthed, “Bowie?”
She knew.
He was steadfastly “Duncan” to outsiders.
He was “Bowie” to those he let in.
He shrugged.
She disappeared inside his house.
He followed but stopped a few steps in, even though Chloe was pulling Gen to the great room at the back of the house.
He then looked around.
He’d designed this place, came once a week to watch it go up and lived there for five years, but it was like he was seeing it for the first time.
The square entry was very large, open, and this feeling was increased by the upstairs gallery that ran the entire space. There were seating areas up there, one recessed in an alcove. The walls were covered in shelves that held books, things Duncan had picked up while traveling, framed pictures of the boys or their terrible, but cute and hilarious, artwork from when they were little and trophies his sons had earned.
The back of the house was a great room that had two-story, floor-to-roof windows and a view of the lake curving around the back of the property, the forest, and the mountains.
Off to the right of that, the open plan kitchen with a walk-in pantry, access to the four-car garage and wide doorway to the dining room. And to the left, hidden beyond the wall where the large stone fireplace was, was utility and laundry as well as a powder room.
The rest of the house, upper and lower floors, had two halls leading off each side of the entry (down) and gallery (up).
Downstairs there was his office. A den. The dining room. A room that held pretty much nothing but an antique pool and poker table, because Duncan and his buds liked to play poker and pool. A couple of guest baths, because there was a lot of space, and when you needed one, you didn’t want to have to walk miles. And a game/media/TV room, because he