The inside was nothing like the dark foreboding exterior. Everything had been updated with all the modern trappings one could hope for, yet it still retained some of what I imagined was its original splendor.
I particularly loved the walk-through fireplace in a room that vastly resembled the Great Hall at Hogwarts. But I decided to keep that Harry Potter reference to myself since I’d probably done more than enough damage to my credibility with my dorky book nerd references earlier.
We finally walked into a gorgeous white marble kitchen with a massive island in the center. It was the size of a Buick and again I had to remind myself to pick my jaw up off the floor.
Wyatt looked at me expectantly.
“Who did you say your dad was again?” I joked.
He didn’t look amused. “I didn’t.”
I stood back as he opened what I thought was a large cabinet to reveal a refrigerator. I remembered to snap my mouth shut just in time for Wyatt to hand me a bottle of water.
He took out one for himself, taking a long swig. “So, what kind of toppings do you want on your pizza?” he asked.
I arched an eyebrow. “Does Carmelo’s deliver out here?”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “Of course not. We’re making our own. If that’s okay?” he added.
It seemed like a shame to let such an incredible kitchen go unused. “Sure.”
Wyatt’s easy smile was back. “Good. I asked the chef to pick up what we’d need.”
He opened another equally large hidden fridge and started handing me things. When he was done, the gorgeous marble island was covered with enough supplies to make an army of pizzas.
“How many pizzas are we making?” I asked.
“I didn’t know what you liked,” he said defensively, as he surveyed the now cluttered island.
“Your castle makes you moody,” I teased.
Wyatt smirked. “Sorry. You’re right. I’m being a bit of a wanker, aren’t I?” he replied, his hand rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “I guess, it’s just . . .”
“What?”
“I don’t have many guests here . . . er, ever, actually.”
“Why? This place is amazing!”
“That’s one word for it.”
“You have a different opinion?”
He pursed his lips. “It’s not lost on me how ridiculous this place is.”
“I don’t think it’s ridiculous.”
Wyatt crossed his arms. “I saw the look on your face when we first arrived.”
“Well, okay, I was a bit shocked at first. I mean, from the outside, it does have a bit of a Beauty and the Beast vibe, but that’s my favorite Disney movie, so . . .”
Wyatt leaned back against the counter as he scowled at me.
“I’m kidding. Geez. Lighten up.”
“You just referred to my house as Beast’s Castle,” he said, still brooding. “I can only imagine who that makes me in that scenario.” His green eyes flashed with disappointment when they met mine. “Which is exactly why I don’t bring people here,” he added under his breath.
“Wyatt, you know I’m not serious. I think your home is spectacular. But that’s just my opinion. It doesn’t matter.”
He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. “Why not?”
“Didn’t you tell me not to care what people think?” I replied. “I believe, ‘do you and be proud of who you are and where you come from’, were your exact words.”
That earned me an adorable crooked smirk. “I do give pretty great advice, don’t I?”
“I’ve heard worse,” I teased, glad to have lightened the mood. “But the real question is, how good are your pizza skills?”
Wyatt, pushed off the counter, grabbed one of the black aprons from the hook on the wall and slipped it on, tying it as he walked over to me. “I think you’ll find you like my cooking as much as my kissing.”
I barked a laugh. “Okay, smart guy. You’re on.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ve been cooking since I was six. I’ve got this in the bag.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“It is,” I said, grabbing another apron.
“Where shall we start?”
I eyed the pineapple and grinned. “With a new experience.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Layne
“Fine you win,” Wyatt moaned as I held another slice of his pizza to his mouth. “If I eat another bite I’m going to die.”
“Are you admitting defeat?” I teased.
“Yes, you’re the better cook.”
“And . . .”
“And pineapple is horrendous. I solemnly swear to ban it as a pizza topping hence forth.”
I giggled, unable to contain how amusing it was when his Britishness showed. I didn’t think people actually spoke like that outside of Harry Potter novels.
“Seriously though,” he said. “Why was your pizza so much