Read Online Right by Her Side by Christie Ridgway - Free Book Online Page B

any kind of acquisition was accomplished smoothly.
    To his satisfaction.
    Just like today.
    He held to that happy thought until the moment thetwo of them stood on the slate front porch of his house. With his hands gripping her suitcases, he stalled a moment before setting them down to locate his keys and release the lock. “I, uh, hope you’ll like the place.”
    Instead of looking at her, he stared at the heavy, ugly door. What was he saying? She was going to hate it. He hated it. He’d bought it, furnished, right after his divorce from a guy who’d bought it, furnished, right after his divorce, from another guy who’d…and so on. Something like five iterations of thirty-something, just-single men had lived in the place, and it always held the cold chill of a house in which the furnace was rarely turned on. Even less pleasant, it reeked of layers of Pledge and Windex and Lysol, applied by a succession of faithful housekeepers who for years had polished surfaces that the succession of busy bachelors rarely dirtied.
    Hell. Impatient with his uncharacteristic hesitation, he dropped the suitcases and dug for his keys. He swung open the door and she immediately stepped across the threshold.
    Hell, he thought again. Should I have carried her over it? For all his planning, he hadn’t thought that one out. And now it was too late. Annoyed with himself for the oversight, he retrieved the suitcases and followed her inside.
    She paused in the foyer, looking around her.
    A white-carpeted, sunken living room on the right. Curving staircase to the upper floor directly ahead. On the left, a dining area, then the entry to a stainless-steelkitchen and un-cozy den. As always, everything in sight gleamed, from the lacquer furniture in the living room to the red waxy tulips in the austere crystal vase precisely centered on the dining-room table.
    â€œWhat do you think?” he heard himself ask.
    Did he sound anxious? He hoped to God he didn’t sound anxious. He didn’t feel anxious, damn it, not about anything, and her doubts were kept at bay by his confidence.
    â€œIt looks…”
    He wasn’t holding his breath.
    â€œIt looks…
    He was breathing, of course he was.
    â€œâ€¦clean.”
    His air exhaled on a laugh; he couldn’t help himself. “It’s awful. I know it’s awful.”
    â€œI didn’t mean—”
    â€œNo, no. Don’t try to backpedal now.” The laughter eased the trace of tension that had found its way inside him. “‘Clean’ is about the nicest thing I can think to say about it, too.”
    She made a face at him. “It’s not that bad.”
    â€œLet’s admit it’s bad. Let’s admit it has all the charm of the inside of a coffee can.”
    â€œTrent.” She shook her head. “Why are you living here if you don’t like it?”
    He shrugged. “It didn’t matter before. It was just me and…it didn’t matter where I lived. I spend most of my time at the office.”
    Doubt flared in her eyes again.
    â€œBut I’m going to change all that,” he hurried to say. “With the baby, with you, I’m going to be spending more time at home.” He gestured with one of the suitcases, worried that if he set them down she’d grab them back up and run for her life.
    Of course he wasn’t worried. Not really. The i ’s, the t ’s—he’d thought everything through with precision, right? If he kept steady, then she would too. Still, he headed for the staircase, determined to get her things farther into his space.
    Just follow my lead, he thought, willing her after him.
    â€œWe can buy a new house or change this place, you know,” he said, steadily mounting the stairs. “Enlarge the rooms by taking a can opener to them or something. Donate the furniture to a home for indigent monkeys.”
    Now she laughed. “Indigent