The Good Luck Charm(20)
I push the door open and Ethan motions me forward, following me inside. The foyer is a grand, open space, with a curving staircase that leads to the second floor. An ornate chandelier hangs at least twenty feet above our heads, catching the sunlight as it streams through the windows, creating rainbows on the floor.
“So this is what an NHL salary gets you in the housing market, huh?” I cringe at my inappropriateness.
Ethan gives me a wry grin. “This is the top of my budget, and the house I have in Chicago has appreciated thirty percent in the past year thanks to the crazy market out there, but yeah, I guess this is what playing with sticks gets you.”
I snort at the thinly veiled innuendo. “I can wait here while you look around.”
“You don’t want to come with me? See what kind of weird art the Hoffmans have hanging in their living room?”
The Hoffmans are eccentric. If anything, I’m curious about the decor. I suppose it doesn’t hurt to have a look around. “I can tag along.”
Ethan’s smile grows a little wider, and he picks up the listing papers, flipping through them. The house has five bedrooms, a separate pool house to complement the Olympic-size pool, and access to the lake—because why not have a pool and the lake if you’re going to live in a three-quarters-of-a-million-dollar home—all on one acre of property.
The kitchen is spectacular, and I’m immediately glad I didn’t wait in the foyer. I grew up in an older four-bedroom house. Carmen and I shared a bedroom growing up, but with my mom working late shifts as I got older and Carmen’s involvement in after-school sports I often ended up going to the Kases’ after school and staying there. No one ever questioned my sleeping on an inflatable mattress on the floor in Ethan’s bedroom, which was twice the size of the one I shared with my sister. When I was too old to stay in there with him, he’d sleep in the living room on the pullout sofa. I never considered the sacrifice in that until I had to spend a night on the uncomfortable, lumpy, thin mattress myself.
Our kitchen was small and felt crowded with more than two bodies in it. Dinner was always a race, especially with four older brothers and an older sister. If you weren’t quick enough, you’d miss out on all the good things.
This kitchen is the opposite of that. The appliances are state-of-the-art, stainless steel without a single fingerprint marring the shiny metal and endless granite counters.
I spin around and motion to the wall of windows and the French doors leading to the backyard, which is hardly a “yard.” Beyond the natural-stone patio is a huge swimming pool, and a path of stones marks the way to the lake, where a boathouse and a massive dock sprawl out into the water. “Look at this view.”
“Let’s save the backyard for last.” Ethan nods toward the foyer and I follow him through a formal dining room with a table that seats twelve comfortably, and a living room that seems to be designed to hold the same. This is definitely a house meant for entertaining. Maybe that’s why he wants it, so he can throw hockey parties here with his new teammates. I wonder if puck bunnies get invites to those kinds of parties. The possibility irks me.
The second floor has its own private sitting room and deck that boasts the same view of the lake as the kitchen, except from a higher vantage point.
Each bedroom has a private bathroom. They’re a little outdated, as if the owners cared most about the kitchen and the dining room, which are the only parts of the house that seem to have been updated in the last twenty years. My skin grows hot when we step into the master suite, and the back of Ethan’s hand skims my hip. The space is huge and lavish. I laugh at the painting on the wall opposite the bed.
Ethan’s eyebrows lift along with the curve of his lips. “That’s a little cliché, isn’t it?”
The massive white-and-pink flower is far more vagina inspired than it is rose or daisies.
“Just a little.”
I brush past him to stand in front of the French doors leading to a balcony with yet another stunning view of the lake. To the right of the pool is a second small house—and it’s probably bigger than the one I live in.
“Are you really thinking about buying this place? Why such a big house? For parties?” I voice my earlier thought, frustrated by my bitter tone.
He opens the French doors and I follow him out onto the balcony. “It’s the pool house I’m actually interested in. This place is undervalued because the owners haven’t updated it, and I’m not sure what’s going to happen with my dad, so I want to have space for them if I need it.”
“You’d buy this house so your parents can move into the pool house?”
Ethan shrugs. “It’s a thought. I want to have the space for Dylan and his family, and for my parents’ friends if they came to visit.”
“What if you get traded again? Won’t you have to sell it?” My throat tightens at the possibility that Ethan’s return will be brief. Part of the reason I’m so hesitant to allow this friendship is the fear that he’ll come back into my life long enough for me to care about him again, and then he’ll be off to another city in another state.
“I’ll probably be here permanently if I can’t up my game this year.”
I note the tightness of his jaw and the frustration shadowing his eyes.
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing? Not having to move from city to city, I mean?”