Read Online These Three Words by Holly Jacobs - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Holly Jacobs
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voice. “Join them in tonight’s episode as they set out with their sidekicks, Obie Obscure and Peter Perplexing—”
Gray interrupted, uncharacteristically joining in my weirdness. He did a mean radio-broadcaster voice as well. “As they set out to woo Addled Adeline—”
“Hey,” I protested. I muttered as I got out of the car, “The ‘addled’ part wasn’t nice, but I did like the wooing part.”
“I hope you like the rest of the surprise,” he said.
Gray grabbed the picnic basket. It was his mom’s, so there was a good chance Peggy had helped him pack our dinner.
His mom was an amazing cook. I frequently teased her that she should consider cooking instead of waitressing, but she laughed and told me that cooks get no tips so she’d be wasting her innumerable charms.
Gray walked to a gate in front of an unfamiliar house. It squeaked softly as he pushed it open. There was a wrought-iron fence that reached my waist. The gate, however, was taller. It was the same as the rest of the fence, but the top extended into a circle, beyond which I could see a well-manicured lawn that was split by a brick sidewalk.
That sidewalk led to a small, L-shaped, brick home that had a touch of a Tudor element.
Ivy draped around the arched front door.
This was a home that could be part of a fairy tale. I could imagine some princess in disguise waiting here for her prince.
“It’s adorable. Whose is it?” I asked.
“That’s the surprise,” he said, no less cryptic than he’d been in the car.
The grass-covered lawn was meticulously trimmed, as were the boxwood hedges that lined the porch.
We reached the arched doorway and Gray set down the basket, reached out, and opened the door. “Gray, you can’t—”
He cut off my protest as he scooped me up and carried me into what I quickly saw was an empty house.
“Do you like it?” he asked as he set me down on a wide-planked, hardwood floor that had some wear. But rather than make it look neglected, the slight imperfections made it look homey. Inviting.
There was a bank of three windows, three-by-threes, and across from the windows was a brick fireplace that was flanked by built-in shelves.
“It’s beautiful,” I assured him.
There it was again . . . that smile I so loved. “It’s yours if you want it,” he said.
“Pardon?”
“I know you love Glenwood Hills and Tudor-style homes. When Ash and I were looking for an office, I mentioned to the agent that if he ever saw a screaming deal on something like this in Glenwood, he should call me. He remembered and called yesterday.”
The real estate agent called yesterday and we were here today? That sort of timeline was so not Gray-like at all. “And you bought it?”
“He’s got the paperwork on his desk right now. I just needed to know that you liked it before I had him make the offer.”
“This is your house, so it shouldn’t matter if I like it.” It shouldn’t matter, but I knew the moment I said the words, it would. Gray was asking if one day, when we married, I could live here.
“No, it would be our house,” he said.
I smiled, realizing how well I knew this man I loved.
Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a ring box. “If you still say yes.”
And at that moment, I realized that even if I knew him, he could still surprise me. I—who normally had enough words to fill in both sides of our conversations—was suddenly speechless.
“Gray” was all I could manage.
Graham Grayson was a man who planned everything out to the minutest detail. But this? The agent had called yesterday. And here we were this evening. And there he was with a ring.
My world had tilted.
“Addie, I need you to say the word,” he prompted.
I took the ring box from him. “Yes. Of course, it’s yes. It will always be yes. Yes.”
He smiled then. And it occurred to me that despite my previous assurance, he’d been nervous.
“And the house?” he asked.
I looked at the empty living room and
Gray interrupted, uncharacteristically joining in my weirdness. He did a mean radio-broadcaster voice as well. “As they set out to woo Addled Adeline—”
“Hey,” I protested. I muttered as I got out of the car, “The ‘addled’ part wasn’t nice, but I did like the wooing part.”
“I hope you like the rest of the surprise,” he said.
Gray grabbed the picnic basket. It was his mom’s, so there was a good chance Peggy had helped him pack our dinner.
His mom was an amazing cook. I frequently teased her that she should consider cooking instead of waitressing, but she laughed and told me that cooks get no tips so she’d be wasting her innumerable charms.
Gray walked to a gate in front of an unfamiliar house. It squeaked softly as he pushed it open. There was a wrought-iron fence that reached my waist. The gate, however, was taller. It was the same as the rest of the fence, but the top extended into a circle, beyond which I could see a well-manicured lawn that was split by a brick sidewalk.
That sidewalk led to a small, L-shaped, brick home that had a touch of a Tudor element.
Ivy draped around the arched front door.
This was a home that could be part of a fairy tale. I could imagine some princess in disguise waiting here for her prince.
“It’s adorable. Whose is it?” I asked.
“That’s the surprise,” he said, no less cryptic than he’d been in the car.
The grass-covered lawn was meticulously trimmed, as were the boxwood hedges that lined the porch.
We reached the arched doorway and Gray set down the basket, reached out, and opened the door. “Gray, you can’t—”
He cut off my protest as he scooped me up and carried me into what I quickly saw was an empty house.
“Do you like it?” he asked as he set me down on a wide-planked, hardwood floor that had some wear. But rather than make it look neglected, the slight imperfections made it look homey. Inviting.
There was a bank of three windows, three-by-threes, and across from the windows was a brick fireplace that was flanked by built-in shelves.
“It’s beautiful,” I assured him.
There it was again . . . that smile I so loved. “It’s yours if you want it,” he said.
“Pardon?”
“I know you love Glenwood Hills and Tudor-style homes. When Ash and I were looking for an office, I mentioned to the agent that if he ever saw a screaming deal on something like this in Glenwood, he should call me. He remembered and called yesterday.”
The real estate agent called yesterday and we were here today? That sort of timeline was so not Gray-like at all. “And you bought it?”
“He’s got the paperwork on his desk right now. I just needed to know that you liked it before I had him make the offer.”
“This is your house, so it shouldn’t matter if I like it.” It shouldn’t matter, but I knew the moment I said the words, it would. Gray was asking if one day, when we married, I could live here.
“No, it would be our house,” he said.
I smiled, realizing how well I knew this man I loved.
Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a ring box. “If you still say yes.”
And at that moment, I realized that even if I knew him, he could still surprise me. I—who normally had enough words to fill in both sides of our conversations—was suddenly speechless.
“Gray” was all I could manage.
Graham Grayson was a man who planned everything out to the minutest detail. But this? The agent had called yesterday. And here we were this evening. And there he was with a ring.
My world had tilted.
“Addie, I need you to say the word,” he prompted.
I took the ring box from him. “Yes. Of course, it’s yes. It will always be yes. Yes.”
He smiled then. And it occurred to me that despite my previous assurance, he’d been nervous.
“And the house?” he asked.
I looked at the empty living room and
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