Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“You invited me here for dinner tonight. I guess that makes me special?” She grabbed the stem of her wine glass, pressed her back into the chair, and placed the black rim of the glass to her awaiting lips.
“Why are you here?” His cheeks burned as he forced a smile.
“Because you invited me.”
“Yeah, I invited ya, but why are you really here?”
She took a leisurely sip of her wine, leaned forward, and set it down.
“I’m here because I like you. Apparently, you like me too because according to you, you have to like someone to share your home with them.”
He nodded in agreement. “I invited you here, Porsche, because I wanted to spend more time with you. I think we’ve got a strong connection. I’m single. You’re single. So, here we are…”
“Yup. Here we are.” She began eating again, jabbing her fork into a mixed green salad with fresh tomatoes. Meanwhile, he finished his plate and nursed what was left of his wine, biding his time.
“Do, uh, you wanna take a tour of the house when you’re finished eating your dinner?”
She looked up from her plate. “Sure.” Her eyes twinkled in that all knowing way he’d come to get used to. ‘Truly, Madly, Deeply’ by Savage Garden started to play. Moments later, he was showing her around.
“…And I plan to repaint in here, too.” She appeared genuinely interested, and seemed to also know a thing or two about home repairs, crown molding, and the style of houses in the area.
“Watch your step,” he instructed as he opened the basement door. “The steps are strong, but old.”
He smacked the light switch that could be at times temperamental, illuminating the squeaky, old wooden steps and lumpy concrete walls that were slathered with shiny white paint—they’d looked that way since before he purchased the property.
The slight odor of dampness assailed his nostrils. He’d never grown used to it.
“Oh, wow. This is an ooooold basement.” She giggled as she placed her hand on the back of his shoulder, using it as a crutch while he helped usher her down. “I can tell already that it’s big, too.”
Once they got to the bottom, he led her around. “This is my office.”
“Wow! Some of this stuff looks like something outta medieval times!” She cackled as she rested her eyes on blade saws, metal sheets, and his workshop. “I love this… and you can smell it, too? It’s in the air… fire?”
“Yeah, a little smolder…” Their eyes locked for a long hard second before she turned away. breaking her hold on him.
“This is where the magic happens, huh?”
“Not quite… That’s on the second floor.”
They both burst out laughing at that.
“You have a dirty mind, Nikolai.” She waved her finger at him. “And I like it.”
He proceeded to describe various pieces of equipment that caught her eye, then pointed to assorted wires and pipes, and the laundry area. “All of this is going to be gutted and remodeled in a couple of years.”
“A finished basement?”
“Yeah, and my office, as I call it, will have a better set up, too, but it’s fine for now. I also have a workshop in the back of my store. I can work from either location, and that’s convenient.”
“I bet it is.”
He was standing behind her when she quickly spun around, crashing into him. When she was pressed flush to his body, their gazes hooked. Then, he grabbed the back of her head and brought her in for a kiss. A much necessary kiss…
When he released her, he could see her cheeks had deepened in color, and her breaths came faster. Harder.
“…Do you want to see upstairs, Porsche?”
She ran her fingers through her hair, then stared at the floor. When she looked back up, her lips were curved, and creases framed her eyes.
“Yeah… take me where the magic happens…”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The basement was overwhelmingly large, an intricate maze with bumpy white concrete walls, splattered with uneven paint strokes. The vault was bursting with nooks and crannies, corners that led into small rooms with odds and ends that had been crafted when the structure was built over a century ago, as Nikolai explained. There was even an area filled with barrels that once housed wines. He’d kept three of them as keepsakes, and discarded the rest.
Faint music could be heard. From the somewhat staticky sound, it had to be a radio. That sound mingled with a noisy heater and water tank that made banged and peculiar melodies—rattle, rock and roll. The area was fairly clean and well lit. Even with the vibrant lighting though, it was still dark in some areas.
Some regions of the spaces were shrouded in dark browns and muted blacks. As if shadows were eating into slivers of light, stretching their dark two-dimensional arms and stealing streams of illumination from the living. It was also cold down there. A sinful chill that was only quelled when she’d draw near to his workstation, which seemed to capture and keep heat. He must’ve been working down there recently.