Until There Was You(78)

“Well,” he said. “You have your own special thing.”

She looked up in surprise, dropping the candy on the driveway. In a flash, she picked it up, gave it a quick glance, and took another bite.

“Really?” Liam asked.

“Shush. My college roommate sent me this fudge. It’s from Z. Cioccolato. In San Francisco, okay? Best stuff ever.” She held it out. “Want a bite?”

“Pass.”

“Your loss.”

Now her lips had just a little chocolate on them. Liam found himself getting a little…aroused. More than a little, actually. “So, your cousin lives with you?” he asked, trying to focus on something else.

Cordelia groaned. “For the moment. She’s between mansions right now.”

He laughed. “She looks a lot like your mom, doesn’t she? More than you do.”

She gave him an odd look. “I’m adopted.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. My brother, too.”

“Well, that I did guess, since he’s what? Vietnamese?”

“Yep.”

“And what are you? Ethnicity-wise?”

“I don’t know. It was a closed adoption. So, where are we going?”

Hint taken. “Um…” Right. He should’ve thought of that. It’d been a while since he’d been on…well, it wasn’t really a date. Whatever. “Where do you want to go?”

She thought for a moment. “I have to check on something, and you might like to see it. Want to come?”

“Sure.”

“Let me get Shilo. He can come with us, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

She ran back into the church, opened the door and called her dog, who galumphed out, baying joyfully. “My truck?” Cordelia asked, as the pony-size dog whirled in circles next to her.

“We can take my car,” Liam said. He opened the back door for the dog, who leaped right in, then seemed to fall unconscious. He was too big for the backseat, so his head drooped to the floor, nose almost touching.

“I thought you might have your motorcycle today,” Cordelia said as she buckled up. “It’s so nice out.”

“I don’t ride it much anymore,” he said.

“Since the accident?”

He gave her a sharp look. “Who told you about that?”

She grinned. “You did, biker boy. When you were under the influence of pain meds.”

“Right. After you broke my rib.” He started the car and pulled out of her driveway.

“Cracked. And don’t worry, you swore me to silence. Take a left at the stop sign.”

“So tell me, Cordelia, have you always sucked at baseball?” Liam asked, and she punched his arm.

“I almost got a hit the other day,” she said. “It was very close.”

“Wow. So exciting.” He grinned as she smacked him again.

“We can’t all be perfect like you, Liam. Heard you had four hits against Oasis.”

“It’s true,” he acknowledged.

“Good. Glad you’re having fun. Go left here.” He obeyed. “Where’s your daughter today?”

His smile dropped. “With her grandparents.”

“And how are they? With her, I mean?”

And so Liam found himself telling Cordelia an edited version of the Tates’ demands, the endless stream of gifts and overindulgences. It was…nice, having someone to talk to. He’d made a few friends since moving—Allan the lawyer was a pretty good guy, but obviously it was a little weird with the whole Taylor-belt stuff. Rose, the bartender, had a killer Harley and brought it in for a tune-up and flirted without coming onto him, which was fun. The girls at the bakery were friendly.

But Cordelia…maybe it was his link to her parents, but she felt…safe. And she listened. It had been a long time since someone really listened like that.

“Up here on the right,” Cordelia said, pointing. “Just pull in and stop, okay?”

An endless rock wall bordered a sloping lawn. There was a house up there, though Liam could only catch glimpses of it through the trees, which had started to bud out in earnest. A giant Victorian, from the look of it. Shilo, who’d been sleeping, perked up, pushing his giant head between the front seats to see where they’d stopped. A huge set of arching, wrought-iron gates with the words The Meadows spelled out on top marked their destination. Cordelia hopped out of the car, opened a metal box, punched in a code, and got back in the car. The gates swung open, and Liam drove in. Stone driveway. Very nice.

“You know the owner?” he asked.

“I do. Vivian Appleton. She used to live here before she got too old.” Cordelia peered through the windshield at the house. “Man, look at those daffodils! They were hardly out last week!”

The house was massive and ornate, green with cream and blue trim. Dozens of windows, a huge set of double doors, curving front porch. And yes, hundreds, if not thousands, of bright yellow daffodils bordered the lawn, bobbing in the sun.

Cordelia leaped out of the car, opened the door for her dog, and ran up the granite steps that led to a stone terrace. “Come on,” she ordered. “We’ll go in this way. The front door sticks.” Her dog, clearly no stranger to the property, trotted off, snuffling the air with enthusiasm. Liam followed her up the stairs. “It’s empty, but it’s gorgeous anyway. The owner’s heirs are going to tear this place down, and I’m hoping to get the salvage rights.”