Read Online Finding the Magic (Tom Kelly's Boys Book 1) by Casey McMillin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Casey McMillin
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really doubted that, though.
Megan was in the living room when I left, and I was a little embarrassed when she noticed my efforts, but she was really sweet about it and said I looked hot. Hot was a bit of an overstatement, but I was as tempting as I was gonna get without the help of a professional.
"You sure you're good alone," she asked just as I was about to leave. "I can ride with you and just wait in the car if you want." I could tell she was genuinely concerned for my safety.
"I'll be fine," I said. I pointed to the back of the yard, "and if I don't come back, you know where to come looking for me." I laughed a little to prove how not-worried I was.
"All right," she said, "you call me if you need anything."
"I will. I'm sure I'll be right back."
I smiled as I shut the door behind me. It was a gorgeous day, and the small, white VW I bought when I moved back down here also happened to be a convertible, so even though my hair was freshly washed, I put the top down.
Most of my closet was black. As a concert pianist, I had lots of black dresses, but also I just liked black and wore a lot of it. I knew it sort of looked morbid compared to all these beach bunnies in Miami, so I'd started to incorporate more colors into my wardrobe. I had on skinny denim capris and a sleeveless black top with delicate ruffles down the front. I added a pair of casual canvas flats that were red with white stripes and a floral scarf, which I tied around my head to hold my hair down while I drove. It wasn't colorful by Miami's standards, but it wasn't all black either.
I listened to music through my earbuds since I wasn't the type to broadcast my music when the top was down. It took me ten minutes to make my way around to the other side of the island where I could access the front of his house. I realized as I pulled up that Steven had been right about it being gated and virtually inaccessible from the front.
I parked in front of the gate and got out of my car to check out what looked like some sort of intercom station with a keypad on the side of the gate. I walked over to it, not knowing what in the world I would do once I got there. Then I remembered that I had his phone number and should just call to let him know I was there. I started back toward the car to get my phone, but stopped when I heard a voice come out of the box by the gate.
"Come on up," he said. "Park by the grey car and come to the front door."
The gate was already opening by the time I made my way back into the driver's seat.
The house was gigantic, enormous. It was so big that I honestly didn't know which door could possibly be considered the front. I drove slowly past the front of the beautiful home until I reached a row of parking places There were places for about eight or so cars, but only two of them were occupied, and sure enough one of the occupants was a grey BMW, all tricked out like it must have cost a fortune. I pulled into the space beside it, and put the car in park.
I adjusted the rearview mirror and took a second to make a few necessary tweaks. I got out of the car, feeling so nervous that it put me in an almost surreal state. It felt like I was moving in slow motion and the front door seemed like a mile away. I walked slowly so that I wouldn't be out of breath when I finally got there. I was halfway up the giant, stone steps that led to the front patio when I noticed the door opening.
I closed my eyes briefly before I saw who it was. I had to remind myself that this was just some good clean, pirate spying fun, and there was no need to get my nerves and feelings all wrapped up in it.
And there he was.
Well over six feet of perfect, male surfer wonderfulness propped casually against the doorframe, watching me approach. He had on faded jeans that rode low on his hips with an off-white, linen button-up shirt that was, you heard me, all the way unbuttoned. Holy moly. His shirt was completely not-connected down the front, and I could clearly see the
Megan was in the living room when I left, and I was a little embarrassed when she noticed my efforts, but she was really sweet about it and said I looked hot. Hot was a bit of an overstatement, but I was as tempting as I was gonna get without the help of a professional.
"You sure you're good alone," she asked just as I was about to leave. "I can ride with you and just wait in the car if you want." I could tell she was genuinely concerned for my safety.
"I'll be fine," I said. I pointed to the back of the yard, "and if I don't come back, you know where to come looking for me." I laughed a little to prove how not-worried I was.
"All right," she said, "you call me if you need anything."
"I will. I'm sure I'll be right back."
I smiled as I shut the door behind me. It was a gorgeous day, and the small, white VW I bought when I moved back down here also happened to be a convertible, so even though my hair was freshly washed, I put the top down.
Most of my closet was black. As a concert pianist, I had lots of black dresses, but also I just liked black and wore a lot of it. I knew it sort of looked morbid compared to all these beach bunnies in Miami, so I'd started to incorporate more colors into my wardrobe. I had on skinny denim capris and a sleeveless black top with delicate ruffles down the front. I added a pair of casual canvas flats that were red with white stripes and a floral scarf, which I tied around my head to hold my hair down while I drove. It wasn't colorful by Miami's standards, but it wasn't all black either.
I listened to music through my earbuds since I wasn't the type to broadcast my music when the top was down. It took me ten minutes to make my way around to the other side of the island where I could access the front of his house. I realized as I pulled up that Steven had been right about it being gated and virtually inaccessible from the front.
I parked in front of the gate and got out of my car to check out what looked like some sort of intercom station with a keypad on the side of the gate. I walked over to it, not knowing what in the world I would do once I got there. Then I remembered that I had his phone number and should just call to let him know I was there. I started back toward the car to get my phone, but stopped when I heard a voice come out of the box by the gate.
"Come on up," he said. "Park by the grey car and come to the front door."
The gate was already opening by the time I made my way back into the driver's seat.
The house was gigantic, enormous. It was so big that I honestly didn't know which door could possibly be considered the front. I drove slowly past the front of the beautiful home until I reached a row of parking places There were places for about eight or so cars, but only two of them were occupied, and sure enough one of the occupants was a grey BMW, all tricked out like it must have cost a fortune. I pulled into the space beside it, and put the car in park.
I adjusted the rearview mirror and took a second to make a few necessary tweaks. I got out of the car, feeling so nervous that it put me in an almost surreal state. It felt like I was moving in slow motion and the front door seemed like a mile away. I walked slowly so that I wouldn't be out of breath when I finally got there. I was halfway up the giant, stone steps that led to the front patio when I noticed the door opening.
I closed my eyes briefly before I saw who it was. I had to remind myself that this was just some good clean, pirate spying fun, and there was no need to get my nerves and feelings all wrapped up in it.
And there he was.
Well over six feet of perfect, male surfer wonderfulness propped casually against the doorframe, watching me approach. He had on faded jeans that rode low on his hips with an off-white, linen button-up shirt that was, you heard me, all the way unbuttoned. Holy moly. His shirt was completely not-connected down the front, and I could clearly see the
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