Angel Falling (Falling #1)(60)
Hank shrugged and rolled his eyes. I placed a finger along the shelves and scanned some of the titles. A huge section was devoted to Grisham and Koontz novels but two shelves were filled with books on architecture and design. Hank hooked my elbow with his large hand. “Hey, you can check out my collection later. I want to get your bags settled and show you something.”
We were led up the stairs. The first room was a guest bathroom decorated in garish flowers. They covered every available surface with wallpaper to match. Oliver and I looked at one another horrified. “Ma designed it. She thought it needed a woman’s touch.” I nodded but didn’t offer an opinion. Oliver kept his thoughts to himself as well. Dean didn’t seem fazed by it at all. The man was gay with an eye for hair and makeup but he definitely was not an effeminate male.
“This is one of the guest rooms you fellas could stay in … unless you want two?” Hank hedged.
Oliver looked at Hank like he’d grown horns. “You know we live together, right Cowboy?”
Dean shoved Oliver in the shoulder. “Hank, thank you. One room will be just fine.” They entered the room.
I could hear Dean scolding Oliver playfully. “Southern charm. Manners, Oleander. I can’t take you anywhere,” was the last thing I heard Dean say when they shut the door to get settled in.
Hank and I both grinned at one another. “And this right here is our room.” It was the way he said our room that made me melt into his side. He opened the double doors to a large room. The space was bright with dark chocolate plantation shutters. The room was denim blue with white baseboards and crown molding.
In the middle of the room sat a wooden mahogany four-poster bed. A polar opposite to my sleigh bed in the Penthouse back in New York. Each spindle of the bed had an ornate carving. The grooves set deep into the wood when I ran my fingers against them.
“Beautiful bed,” I gasped.
“My Grandfather made it. One of the last things he made before he passed several years back.” Hank’s tone was tinged with sadness but he smiled as I inspected the etchings more closely.
“It’s lovely, Hank.”
“I can’t wait to get you into it,” he smirked and I grinned.
Off to the side of the room was a bathroom. An old fashioned claw foot tub sat next to an ultra-modern walk-in shower. The shower didn’t have any doors. It only had three tiled walls decorated with tiny little mosaic tiles in varying shades of crème and gold and a rain style shower-head dropped from the ceiling. I liked seeing something so antique as the tub proudly displayed along something so opulent and modern. It reminded me of Hank and me. He was old-fashioned and I was contemporary. And in this circumstance, it fit so well. Could that be possible in life and love too? The answer was still lost on me.
“You ready to go downstairs? I want to show you something,” he reminded me.
“Sure.” Though I looked over at the bed with longing, wishing we were going to have a romp then a nap after a long travel day.
He caught onto what I was staring at. “Oh, Darlin’, I’m going to take you good and hard in that there bed tonight.” His lips descended on mine, his tongue entering my mouth swiftly. I groaned and rolled my tongue against his. We had been right next to one another all day but I still felt as though I missed him, clutching his broad chest to mine. Large hands cupped and massaged my bum, pressing his erection into my groin.
“Hank …” I warned with a stiff press of my own hips.
He grunted like an animal. “Alright, alright. Let’s go downstairs. I heard the truck roll up.” I looked at him, mouth pinched in concentration. “Means my brother and his family is here,” he said with excitement.
Hank clasped my hand and pulled me down the other side of the stairs. You could get to the upstairs through the living room or coming down the backside which opened to the kitchen. The kitchen was a good size, again, not as large as mine but charming. It was a bright yellow with white distressed cabinets and twisted spurs for handles on each cupboard. Very shabby chic. He pulled open a set of French doors that opened onto a huge raised patio. Oh. My. God.
I stood there with my mouth hanging wide open. I’d never seen anything like it.
***
She stood there mouth agape gasping like a fish. I pulled my arms around her from behind and hugged her back against my chest. “So, what do you think?”
“When can I move in?” she gasped and I laughed.
“Oh, Angel. I told you, this is your home away from home.”
“What does that mean to you, Hank?” she whispered as she took in the view of the entire ranch. I held her close and thought about it while looking out into the distance. The view is what sold the ranch for me. Green land spread out as far as the eye could see, dotted with trees and flowers galore. Rolling hills and a creek filled the landscape with texture. My red barn stood way off to one side not polluting or obstructing the view but adding to its beauty. A big “J” was painted in white at the peak of it.
“Well, that means I want you with me wherever I am. Right now, home is here. When we’re in New York, home is the Penthouse.” It seemed such a simple idea but not knowing how she perceived us, it did dampen things a little. “Angel, don’t you know?”
She turned to face me. Her blue eyes bouncing off the blue of the sky making them seem endless. “Know what, Hank?”