getting out of this car, and that is not the first impression I want you to make on my parents.”
And because the visual of that was particularly horrifying, I ordered him out of car. At least no one saw us climbing out of the same seat.
I understood, in a purely abstract way, that Cameron’s parents were rich, but there was understanding it, and then there was seeing it. Those were two very different things.
Their house was huge. We stepped into the foyer, hung up our jackets in the closet, and walked farther in, past a sitting room on the right and a smaller room—a reading room, maybe?—on the left. A long hallway dumped us out into a cavernous space with a coffered ceiling and a crystal chandelier.
“Are you kidding?”
“It’s really not that big a deal.”
He’d need to try a lot harder than that to persuade me.
It was the biggest house I’d ever been in, but I was smart enough to know that what made it expensive was its location. We were in what Cameron had described as Old Palo Alto. He’d told me the house looked like something you’d find in Santa Barbara, with more of a Mediterranean feel, but I didn’t know much, if anything, about architecture, so what I noticed was the Spanish tile roof, and inside, the archways, the hardwood floors, and the high ceilings. Cameron also pointed out the recently touched-up white millwork.
“You have millwork in your place too, don’t ya?”
“In our place,” he corrected me, smiling. “And yes, we do.”
God.
It appeared everyone was outside having drinks, but they would all be in shortly, as the temperature was dropping and would dip down to the low forties once the sun went down.
“The backyard is pretty nice. I basically lived on the patio when I was younger. There’s a firepit out there, and a lap pool, and a lot of trees.”
I was quiet, and he turned to look at me.
“What?”
“It sounds like you’re trying to sell me your childhood home.”
“Well, I want you to like it.”
“What’s not to like, Cam? It’s beautiful, and it’s a helluva lot warmer than your place, even at twice as big.”
“Is it?”
I gestured at the seating area in the living room. “Uh, for starters, not everything’s the same color.”
“I hate you,” he grumbled.
“I know.” I bumped his shoulder and smirked at him, pointing toward the wide set of doors leading out toward the patio. “Let’s go.”
As soon as we stepped outside, two enormous hellhounds came charging toward us.
Cameron yelled, others did as well. I crouched down, and they stopped close and then came toward me slowly.
“Hey,” I greeted them, reaching out, my hands finding places to scratch and pet, rewarded instantly with whimpering and whining as they got closer, nuzzling my hair, sniffing my neck; one of them licked my chin, and the other shoved his wet nose into my hand.
“Of course,” Cameron muttered under his breath, his fingers in my hair as his mother—had to be, because she looked just like him—stepped in beside him.
“You must be Jeremiah,” she greeted me, her tone not quite icy but near enough, as she extended her hand.
“Yes, ma’am.” I stood and shook it, letting go quickly. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Gallagher.”
“Brynn,” she clipped her name. “Mrs. Gallagher is so formal.”
“Brynn,” I repeated as a blonde woman bounced up on the other side of Cameron and opened her arms.
“I’m Courtney,” she announced with a huge smile, her eyes gleaming in the low light. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
I hugged her tight, and she told everyone I was a great hugger, which Cameron’s sister-in-law confirmed moments later, after she too was wrapped up in my arms. Cameron’s brother, Cody, shook my hand, but his brother-in-law, Seth, gave me a hug as well.
“I finally get to meet the famous Jeremiah,” Cameron’s father welcomed me jovially, offering me his hand.
I took it in both of mine. “I’m so glad to meet you, sir, and so thankful you came through your health scare well.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.” He took hold of my shoulder. “What can I get you to drink?”
“What’re you having, sir?”
“Ray, please,” he insisted. “And it’s only iced tea for me. I haven’t been cleared to have a beer or bourbon or anything else I love.”
I smiled at him. “I’ll have the iced tea with you, then. I’ve never been much of a drinker.”
“Okay.” He drew the word out, like it was my funeral. “Let’s go inside and get you some of