was laughing by now. “Agreed. And, oh, so that’s what you meant by it being Brady Bunch-meets-Frank Lloyd Wright. Didn’t he put a tree in one of his houses too?”
“Yes—I think he built around a tree or something. Anyway, I had it taken out the day I got the keys.”
“So you moved in here—when? Last winter?”
He nodded. “Yes—well, technically, I’ve been in Wicks Hollow permanently since early December. Settled on the house early February, moved in a week later.
“After my mother died, my siblings and I decided Pop should have at least one of us around. Since I was the only unmarried one and I can work from anywhere for the most part, I volunteered. Pop and Mom had moved here from Grand Rapids about seven years ago when he actually retired for good.”
“I was wondering how you ended up here.”
“I, uh, didn’t realize this was the town you were from until the other day. I guess I thought it sounded familiar, but I didn’t make the connection.” The way he said it almost implied it would have made a difference to him if he had. But she wasn’t sure in what way.
He went on, a little more quickly. “I tried living with Pop for about two weeks, and when I realized that was not going to work for either of us, I started putting out feelers for my own place. And like I said, this one came on the market suddenly and I snagged it—for a little more than I wanted to spend, but…” He spread his hands to encompass the beauty of the scene. “Despite the interior tree, it was a no-brainer.”
“It’s beyond amazing,” she said with a heartfelt sigh. “I could stare out at the lake for hours—especially on a day like this.” Then, suddenly feeling a little awkward—he was, after all, her ex, and for some reason this felt far too intimate and easy, considering the fact that she hated him—she said, “Mind if I get that shower now?”
“Not at all.” He opened the slider, and she preceded him back inside. “Uh…only one of the bathrooms is in working order. The master.” Now he looked a little awkward, but he went on, “I’m having the other one redone, and we’re waiting on the tile for the shower. So…it’s back here.”
Vivien was absolutely not going to feel strange about walking into her former boyfriend’s master bedroom. Even though she immediately noticed and could hardly pull her attention from the king-sized bed. It had a massive headboard upholstered in black leather and a tumble of decorative pillows on top of a gray and blue duvet made of linen that looked very expensive. The rest of the furnishings were just as heavy and masculine, and were done in dark, washed gray.
She’d never known a man to do the decorative pillow thing on a bed—Jake definitely hadn’t done that when she knew him. Obviously, he’d changed a lot in eleven years.
“It was cleaning lady day, so the bathroom should be immaculate,” he said, leading the way into the master bath.
Ah, that explained the pillows—at least, why they were arranged so prettily on the bed. It didn’t explain the actual presence of the pillows, however…
“You must have redone this one first,” she said, walking into a very not Brady Bunch-era master bath. The tile was all muted, earthy greens and blues, with a healthy bit of cappuccino and cream thrown in to keep it from being too “Under the Sea.”
The towels matched and were folded neatly in place over the racks, and there was an expensive terry robe hanging on a hook. A subtle, pleasing herbal scent lingered in the air, and she suspected it was some sort of natural or organic cleaning product.
“Wow. Is that a steam shower?”
He grinned. “My biggest indulgence—so far, anyway. I hope you enjoy.” His voice dipped a little low at the end, and he caught her eyes with his. For a moment, Vivien couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away, dammit, and her breath snagged in her throat. Her mouth went dry and she was still trapped.
They were standing far too close in the spacious master bath, and she was extremely aware that she was in the inner sanctum of his world, the most intimate area of his home…
And that they had been so intimate, so close, so attuned when they were together.
“Thanks,” she said, literally spinning away so as to break the connection and sever the moment of intimacy. Damn, damn, damn. She should