The Bad Boy Bargain (Suttonville Sentinels #1)(61)

Kyle sighed. “Secret number two.”

He pulled onto a side street that was bordered by trees. Like the road to Violet’s, their branches created a canopy overhead. The setting sun glowed through the leaves. The street wound up a low hill and ended at a gate.

Kyle pushed a button on a garage door opener clipped to his sun visor, and the gate pulled back. Behind it was one of the biggest houses she’d ever seen. It had to be at least ten thousand square feet. Made out of dark brick, its two-story front had ivy climbing one wall, and huge picture windows overlooking a riotous front garden. A circle drive curved around front, but Kyle took the second driveway that led behind the house to a six-car garage. Trees grew all over the yard back here, too. Between their branches, she could just make out a large covered patio and a hint of a pool.

“This is your house?” Faith’s eyes hurt from being open so wide. “I mean, I knew you had money, with the car and all, but I thought your family was more like mine.”

“Yes, this is my house.” He sounded tired and teasing at the same time. “You’re riding in a landscaping truck with a trust-fund gardener.”

Faith covered her mouth and laughed helplessly into her hands. “Oh my God. I can see why you don’t tell people. You wouldn’t know who liked you for you and who liked you for…”

She trailed off awkwardly, but he nodded. “For the money. Yeah. My dad always asks why I don’t bring many people home, but Grandpa knows, and goes along with it.”

“Okay, if these are only the first few secrets, what are the rest?”

He parked in front of the garage and came around to open her door. “Come in and I’ll explain everything.”

They entered the house through what he called the mudroom and she called a damn enormous laundry and storage area. You could play soccer across the floor and not hit anything end to end.

“This is the kitchen,” he said, going through the next door. “We spend a lot of time in here.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” she asked. “Your grandpa, your dad. Anyone else?”

“Rosanna’s here a lot, but she doesn’t live here.” He paused. “She’s, uh, our housekeeper. She takes care of us because, as she put it, ‘Three men, living alone? You boys would live on hamburgers without me.’”

He said the quote in a falsetto and a slight Hispanic accent. Faith grinned in delight. “She sounds awesome. How old were you when you lost your mom?”

“She died when I was three. She and my grandmother. They were in a car accident. After that, Grandpa decided to move in with us, and we’ve been together since.” He shrugged. “I’d say I missed them, but I was too little to remember. So it’s been just us. My dad owns an investment firm, and my grandpa used to own J. Sawyer furniture.”

“Wait a minute. You’re that Sawyer?” Faith’s mouth dropped open. “Mom’s been trying to talk Dad into buying one of those dining sets for years.”

Kyle scuffed his shoe against the floor. “Yeah. They’re a little pricey.”

“But they’re gorgeous. Wow,” Faith breathed, turning in a circle. The kitchen was high end, and she had a feeling the whole house would be. She went to their kitchen table—a six-seater, handmade out of gleaming oak. “Did your grandpa make this?”

“It’s one of his first. He made it for Grandma when he came home from Vietnam.”

“Beautiful.” She ran a hand along the wood. It was satiny with age and use. “Where’s your room?”

He jumped. Literally jerked like she’d crossed a rug and shocked him with the static. “You know what, that was rude of me to ask. Never mind.”

His expression was a war between uncomfortable and determined. Determined won. “No, it’s fine. It’s upstairs.”

He led her through a butler’s pantry into a living room with all leather furniture, dark wood floors, and the newest electronics on the market. “This room is so guy.”

“Be thankful I’m not taking you into Grandpa’s den. Total man cave.”

She laughed as he took her to a large staircase in a formal foyer at the front of the house. A crystal chandelier hung down from the twenty-foot ceiling overhead. “Kyle, I have house envy.”

“Is that a good thing?”

She made a face. “I’m not entirely sure.”

Upstairs he led her down a hall with walls covered with pictures of a boy growing up. In the first few, a beautiful woman with dark hair and shining blue eyes held a toddler with a big smile. Later, though, they changed to sports pictures and family vacations deep sea fishing or camping. The line between the two was stark.

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. How had this life been, without a mother to hold him on her lap when he skinned his knee? Or teach him what girls were really like? Is that what made him run so hot and cold?

He opened a door. “Here we are.”

Faith peeked inside. “This is as big as my second story.”

And it was. In the corner, under a slanted roof, was a bed with a navy bedspread. The headboard was carved out of the same oak as the dining table. Definitely handmade, probably also by his grandfather. A window seat was cut into the slanted wall. On the other side of the room was a desk, a couch, and an entertainment system that rivaled the one in her living room.