The wink was sweet.
And hot.
On that thought, I moved quickly to the house and disappeared inside feeling like a dork but thinking something good had come of that fiasco.
I had met the kids. I’d even spoken to them. Okay, so I’d also acted like an idiot around them.
But the hard part was done.
And now I could move on.
So maybe I wasn’t so bad at this Captain Kirk stuff.
Though, I figured that still remained to be seen.
* * * * *
I stood at the massive picture window that rose two stories. A window that was one of twin windows on either side of a tall grand fireplace, its mantel of chocolate marble veined in cream, silver, gold and jade sweeping into the high ceiling.
I was looking out into the back garden, thinking.
Not surprisingly, Apollo’s home was amazing. Far grander but no less warm and welcoming than the dower house, though also far more masculine.
It took ages for me to tour it, what with it having a formal sitting room, a formal drawing room, a massive library, a formal dining room (with a long table that seated twenty-six, yes, twenty-six), a morning room, an informal sitting room and dining room, as well as an octagon shaped conservatory off the informal sitting room.
There were kitchens, too, but I didn’t go there because I was avoiding people (for obvious reasons).
Further, there was a room that looked kind of like it was a billiards room but the table was much bigger and some of the holes led to shoots that expelled the ball back onto the table.
There was also a closed door which I took to be Apollo’s study.
And last, there was the sunken great room that was the showstopper of the house. It was huge, its beamed ceilings vaulted, you walked in the front door over polished dark wood floors with fabulous rugs and that was what you saw before you. That fireplace. Those tall arched windows. That ceiling. And that room sunken into the floor, holding a vast array of comfy, deep-seated, supple leather couches arranged in a way that invited sinking into them with good company and a bottle of wine and wiling away hours.
The great room was the bomb. I’d never seen its like and probably never would again. Not even in this fantastical world. That was just how awesome it was.
During my tour, I also discovered the second floor (which had a cut out in the middle to afford the great room it’s tall ceilings) was bedrooms, the third floor a ballroom (a ballroom that ran the length of the massive house!) but the floor above I didn’t spend much time in because it looked like storage and servants’ quarters. Not to mention, I could hear the kids down the hall, likely conversing with their tutor.
It took me two hours to explore it all and not just because there was a lot of it but there was a lot to it. Portraits, objects d’art, rugs, tapestries, even the way the furniture was made and upholstered took my attention.
It was not a surprise with all his money that Apollo had a beautiful home. It also wasn’t a surprise that it was comfortable and inviting.
What was a surprise was that it was so much of the latter. He was the only member of aristocracy I knew in that world (or my own). But even as huge as his house was, it was not imposing.
It was a home.
And I loved that.
This was what I was thinking when I heard boots on floor.
I turned from the window to see Apollo moving my way.
Burgundy turtleneck, brown breeches, his shined yet scuffed boots, and hair that was unusually swept neatly back from his face making me wonder if I liked it disheveled more than I liked it groomed.
“Hey,” I called to get my mind off his fantastic hair (and, to be honest, his breeches).
He smiled but didn’t speak until he made it to me, curled his arms loosely around me and I’d put my hands to his chest.
Then his deep voice rumbled, “Hey.”