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Eric pulled into a cement driveway that led to a modern-inspired home. A glass balcony protruded from the side, on top of three garages. Two large black doors with long steel handles dwarfed me at the entrance, the top of the handle reaching my eyebrows. Who lived here? Giants?
The overbearing doors opened before I could even knock. Colton stood in the middle of what I could only describe as a museum with white columns and glass accents all around.
“Hey,” he said and kissed my cheek when I ventured to step inside.
“Hi.”
Staring at the tall windows all around me, I asked, “How did you know I was here? I didn’t even ring the doorbell.”
“I received a notification on my phone that someone was at my front door.”
Of course he did.
The only notifications I ever received were angry shouts from my grandmother to answer the door.
“Please come in,” he said.
I wanted to take off my shoes like I always did at home. But Colton wore his shoes instead of socks, so I left mine on. My heels tapped on the white porcelain floor and the sound echoed throughout the house. I bet there were ten bedrooms upstairs. I shuddered thinking of cleaning this place, then chuckled, realizing those who lived in such a home rarely cleaned it themselves.
“Do you like it?” asked a voice to my left. Not realizing I was still looking up at the second floor, I turned to face Colton’s brother, Ryan.
“Oh, hi! Yes, I do. Very much so,” I said and smiled.
“It’s quite impressive,” he said and watched me as my eyes hungrily took in every piece of artwork.
“Wow, is that a Cecily Brown piece?” I asked.
“It is,” said Colton. “I didn’t know you were a connoisseur of art.”
“Well, you’ve only known her, what, ten days?” asked Ryan. “I’m sure there’s a lot you still don’t know about her.”
Colton shot Ryan a glare, but I wasn’t offended. I hadn’t mentioned my love of art to him before. “I love modern pieces, and this is one of my favorites.”
“Mine too,” said Colton, and tiny creases appeared beside his eyes when he smiled.
“Can I get you something to drink, Ava?” asked Ryan.
“Whatever you have is fine,” I said, wanting to deflect any further attention from me. The employees at Crawford Corp thought Ryan was the nicer of the two brothers, but I didn’t like the way he watched me earlier. Like I was some puzzle he was trying to figure out.
Colton guided me along the hallway, and when we turned the corner, a young man, wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, stood over the stove, sprinkling salt over a pan.
“This is my youngest brother, Luke,” said Colton.
Luke wiped his hands on a towel and shook my hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Ava,” he said.
“Luke is the chef of the family. Insisted on cooking the meal himself tonight. I usually order out for us,” explained Colton.
“I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble on my account,” I said, feeling a lot more nervous than I was earlier.
“Not at all. I do it out of pity for these two fools that don’t eat a home-cooked meal unless I make it.” A dimple appeared on his left cheek when he winked at me.
I liked him.
“Save your charm for someone else,” said Colton, steering me away from his brother. “He knows how much people love that he cooks better than a chef at a Michelin star restaurant.”
“Dinner will be served in just a few minutes,” said Luke, turning off the stove and pulling open the oven door.
“Here, let me help you,” I said, pivoting out of Colton’s arm and reaching for the oven mitt in Luke’s hand. Setting the table and serving were my specialty since Nonna and Marco did most of the cooking. I put on the mitt and grabbed the silver-domed pot inside. Placing the pot on top of the stove, I lifted the lid. Hot steam rose from the inside and the aroma of reduced wine, rosemary and garlic warmed my palette and tempted my appetite. “That smells incredible,” I said, closing my eyes and inhaling deeper.
