Marissa ached all over when she crawled out of bed in the morning. Her knees burnt and throbbed when she bent her legs, her back protested mightily when she moved to rise. Damn. The last thing she wanted to do was show the house next door to Aaron Mathews. Hell, she didn’t even want to see him after making such a clumsy move in front of him last night.
Well, she might as well get on with it. She stumbled downstairs and downed almost a half a pot of coffee then headed to the shower. She stayed in an extra few minutes letting the water pound across her aching muscles and hoping it would beat the throbbing from her head. No such luck, though, and she emerged with only slightly less pain than when she’d entered the shower.
She walked next door, arriving early on purpose. She wanted time to unlock the place and air it out a bit before Aaron arrived. Besides, she could use a few minutes to gather her wits about her. It was silly to be this nervous about a showing.
She was struck by the tranquility of the yard as she approached the house. A brick wall surrounded the front, spanned by wrought iron gates. It was like stepping into a private world, a serene spot that seemed isolated from the street. A couple of blooming trees graced the landscape, a large stately maple standing off center. Colorful spring blossoms edged the house, a large, red-brick Victorian. An old-fashioned cobalt blue gazing ball stood on a white concrete pedestal.
She strolled up the flagstone walk and crossed the wide wraparound porch then stuck her key in the huge wooden front door. It swung open to reveal a large foyer, a wide, curving staircase on the right side. Faded wallpaper still clung to its era of elegance and a massive chandelier hung from a carved medallion on the ceiling. On the left French doors led into the living room, or parlor as it was originally called, sunshine pouring through the mullioned windows.
Marissa set her briefcase down on the floor and eyed the place, her hands on her hips. It smelled musty and old but she was confident that wouldn’t be a problem once the place was freshened up.
More pocket doors opened to the left into a large room with high coffered ceilings and beautiful crown moldings. She walked into the kitchen with its bead board wainscoting and outdated appliances. It was a huge space but the cabinets were old and the linoleum probably went back to the 1950s. It was, however, attached to a huge gathering room with a big brick fireplace on one end. The carpet was old and worn but it still felt welcoming.
Damn. Aaron was early.
Marissa stilled for a moment, temporarily unable to breathe. Then she shook herself mentally and straightened up to her full 5’5”.
Don’t be ridiculous, woman, she scolded herself. Pull yourself together and act like a grown-up, not a 13-year-old.
Still angry at herself she headed to the front door and flung it open. Unfortunately, she tripped over her forgotten briefcase at the same moment. The door swung inward just as she fell directly into Aaron's broad chest.
She fell with enough force that her teeth clacked together when her chin hit his chest. Her arms flew up over his shoulders and her body sagged against his. His arms automatically wrapped around her. She dared peek at his handsome face from under lowered lids and saw he was grinning wickedly.
“Really, Marissa, you’ve got to quit throwing yourself at me. This is twice now.” He quirked a black eyebrow at her, his eyes twinkling.
She sputtered, jerking herself upright.
“I’m sorry. I tripped…my briefcase.” She started to explain then grew frustrated with herself and stopped.
She managed to straighten up and pull herself away from his broad chest. Her voice came out quietly.
“I am sorry. I’m really not the clumsy oaf I must appear to be.”
“I certainly hope not. You’d be hurting yourself all the time.” He smiled down at her. “Let’s just consider our two meetings a couple of incidents that got off on the wrong foot, so to speak.”
“I’d like that. Now, please, won’t you come in and look around?” Marissa stepped back and held the door for him and watched him enter. She was swift to note the pleased look in his eyes as he looked around. The worn décor didn’t seem to faze him. Admiration filled his eyes as he eyed the hardwood floors and carved balustrade of the stairway.
“I knew it’d be beautiful.” Marissa couldn’t tell if he was talking to her or to himself so she didn’t say anything. He turned to the right and entered what must have been the library at one time. Built-in bookshelves lined two walls, a bay window with a seat in front of it on a third. The floors needed refinishing and the window was grimy, flanked by heavy velvet draperies. She watched as he nodded thoughtfully, his hand running across his chin.
“How old is this house?” he asked.
“It was built in 1898 by a gentleman who owned a furniture company. His name was Frances Daggett. There has been Daggett’s in the house ever since then. Unfortunately, the last one was a spinster lady who never had children. Her nieces and nephews are only interested in selling it and splitting the money."
She remembered the arrogant man who spoke for the Daggett family when she listed the home. None of them lived in the area anymore and they certainly didn’t want the house. His orders were to sell it for as much as possible as fast as possible.
“I’ve got a feeling their loss is my gain.” Aaron quirked a smile at her then walked back into the foyer. Instead of heading into the living room as she expected he headed down a short hall, inspecting a closet and opening a door that led to a powder room tucked beneath the stairs. The maroon wallpaper in the small bath made the little room look like a cave.
“You’re right. The house definitely needs some TLC.”
“I did warn you.”
“Yes, you did. But so far , I’m still not scared off. I’m eager to see the rest of the house.”
Together they inspected every room in the house, including the basement and the attic. He made notes as they went, sometimes muttering to himself, sometimes asking her pertinent questions. Marissa had to admit she was impressed by his apparent knowledge of architecture and construction.
They finally ended up in the back yard. It was overgrown to say the least. A mass of climbing rose bushes, not in bloom this early in the year, swamped the fence. An unattached garage, originally the carriage house, roof slightly sagging, sat at the rear of the lot.
“Well, you’ve seen it all, Aaron. What do you think?”
He stood silent for a moment, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, a contemplative look on his face. Finally, he spoke.
“I’ve just got one question for you, Marissa…won’t you be my neighbor?”