Intercepted (Page 50)

“I bet it is.” I have to use all of my self-restraint not to press my forehead against the window to get a better view before I open the door to take it in in all of its classic glory.

The house is the polar opposite of his condo back in Denver. Where his condo is everything modern and clean lines, his house in New York is a classic colonial on a lot of land. It’s stunning, it’s just not what I expected.

“Well, my dear.” Mr. Pope draws my attention as he sets luggage on the brick-lined walkway ahead of me. “This is where we leave you or that wife of mine won’t let you out of her sight. Don’t let Gavin sneak you away without seeing us again.”

“I won’t Mr.—I mean Thom.” I catch myself. “Thank you for the ride. It was so nice meeting you.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” he whispers before giving me a quick hug.

“Marlee!” Mrs. Pope calls from where she’s standing with Gavin. “Now don’t you dare let him keep you away from us. We love you already and want to see more of you before you go home. And Emerson will kill Gavin if she’s the only one who misses you.”

Well, of course, it would be a shame for anybody to miss out on my marvelous presence. #Sarcasm

“I won’t. Now that I know where we are, he won’t be able to get me back on a plane without meeting her and letting me squeeze on that scrumptious grandson of yours.”

“Isn’t he yummy?” Hearts appeared in her eyes the instant I mentioned Finn, Gavin’s eighteen-month-old nephew. It’s understandable. I’m not even related to him and I’m obsessed with the blue-eyed, head-full-of-red-hair little guy.

“He really is.”

“Okay then.” She claps her hands and rounds the car to the passenger door. “Now that I’m convinced you two won’t disappear, we will leave you. Let’s go, Thompson.”

“Coming, dear,” he says from beside me, the words so sugary sweet they sound anything but.

They get in the car, Mrs. Pope waving to us and her lips moving a million miles a minute while Mr. Pope nods along and drives away.

“So.” Gavin pulls my attention from beside me. “Those are my parents.”

I turn to him and for the first time, he appears shy and nervous. I don’t know if it’s because of his parents or if he’s nervous to show me this part of him, but after all of the not-so-shiny parts of my life he’s witnessed? He has no reason to ever worry.

“They’re amazing. I love them.” I give him a quick peck on the lips and squeeze his bum. “Now show me around this place! It’s beautiful.”

“I want to show you my bedroom, but if I take you there first, you won’t be seeing the rest of this place until tomorrow.”

I have no idea how he manages to be so nonchalant when he says those things.

#Perv

“Oh.” I feel the now familiar heat spreading across my cheeks. “Well if we must . . .”

“Oh thank god,” his whispers to the sky before looking back to me. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He was right. Once we got into bed, I didn’t get the house tour until the next morning.

Thirty-three

I never thought of myself as an East Coast girl. I love Colorado, and there wasn’t one place I ever went to that was able to shake that belief.

Until Oyster Bay.

In our three days here, we’ve explored downtown, visiting some of his favorite places from his childhood, and he even took me to the cemetery after I admitted my strange fascination with them. But most of our time is spent in his amazing house, which is filled with contradicting styles. The modern clean furniture Gavin likes contrasts with the original 1888 moldings. Marble counters and stainless-steel appliances on turn-of-the-century tiles. A giant flat-screen TV tops his hand-carved fireplace. This is probably the most wonderful home I’ve ever stepped foot in.

“I don’t even like to cook, but I think I would learn just to have an excuse to be in your kitchen.” It’s late in the afternoon on the third day of our trip and we still haven’t seen his family again.

“Too bad I don’t have much food to cook because watching you walk around my kitchen wearing what you’re wearing is definitely on my bucket list.” He sticks his head around the freezer door to look at me in nothing but my lace panties and matching cami. “But for now, we can either have frozen lasagna or order in. Which do you want?”

“Hmmm . . . give me a second. This feels like a really big decision,” I joke, about to pick the lasagna when the doorbell rings.

“Fuck. Who the hell is that?”

“How should I know?” But I do have a feeling. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it’s probably a family member. Because of that, I take off up the stairs when he goes to open the door. Last thing I want is for his mom to see me sitting in her son’s kitchen half naked.

Right before I’m about to slam the bedroom door shut, an unfamiliar voice drifts upstairs, and I’m able to keep the door from closing at the very last second. “Were you planning on seeing your nephew before you left or do you think you’re too good for us now?”

Oh shit.

I hope I’m wrong, but I’m thinking his sister may not be as big of a Marlee fan as his mom.

“We’re going to call mom tomorrow. Marlee’s been asking when she gets to meet you and Finn,” Gavin tells her, and I want to cheer. I was always Chris’s excuse to get out of things. I love how Gavin always takes the fall, even when he doesn’t have to.

“Why do I doubt that?” Emerson says, each word dripping with disdain.

Good news? I was right!

Bad news? I was right. She’s definitely not my fan.

“Listen, Em. I love you, and I can’t wait to see Finn, but if this is how you’re going to act around Marlee, you can leave.”

“God. Madison was right.” I can’t see her face from a level up and behind walls, but I’d be willing to bet there’s a nasty snarl on her face. “This girl makes you blind.”

Our trip was going way too well. I should’ve known something big was about to happen.

“Do not mention Madison, Emerson.” Oh. He called her by her full name, a page ripped out of the dad book. “You have no clue the things she’s done. I already talked to mom about her a week ago. I’m not hiring her again. I don’t know if I’ll ever talk to her again.”

“This is absurd, Gavin,” his sister yells, startling me so much, I hit my head on the door frame I’m leaning against. “Madison has been one of your best friends since you guys were in what? First grade? And you’re going to throw it all away over some girl who already doesn’t have the best reputation?”

“Emerson.” His tone is so cold, I get goose bumps.

“Gavin.” Oh. Looks like the name response runs in the family.

“If you’re going to act like this and take Madison’s word over mine without even asking my side of the story, then we’re done here, and we can try when we’re back next time.”

“We? You’re going to come back with her again?”

All right, now I’m not sure I care if she likes me because I’m not too crazy about her either.

“Yes. I am. Marlee’s my girlfriend. I love her. When I come back, she’ll be coming along.” Poor guy sounds exhausted. Logically, I know this isn’t my fault, but I can’t help but feel guilty hearing them fight because of me.