Paris
I WASN’T SURE what to expect, but this wasn’t it.
Taking a sip of my wine, I sat in the chair and looked around. Tabitha’s house was gigantic. It was decorated by the most sought-after decorator, but it still had an overwhelming warmth about it.
From its high ceilings and tall windows that overlooked the tree-lined street to its light walls and recycled wood floors. She was less than a twenty-minute walk the town of Calistoga and in a neighborhood made up of many families her and Grayson’s age.
I looked down at the custom-made table. It matched the kitchen cabinets and showed a craftsmanship that demonstrated superior quality.
Lane sat across from me. The sleek ponytail she wore left her face unframed and she looked vulnerable. I watched as she sipped a glass of wine and shot darts at Christian with her eyes.
“She’s in warrior mode,” Darcy announced, setting a tray of fresh cut fruit and pastries down.
I raised a brow. “Should I know what that means?”
She tucked her chin-length swing of hair behind both her ears. “Just imagine what NASA is like before a rocket gets launched.”
Lane glared at her. “I’m right here and I can hear you.”
Darcy shrugged and pointed to the tray. “Come girls, eat.”
Reaching for the tray, Lane glanced at her. “How’s that dollhouse coming for your niece?”
She sighed. “Slow. Want to help?”
Lane glared at her now. “Hell, no,” she said and pushed the tray toward me. “Eat.”
I shook my head. “I’m full.” In truth, my stomach was a little upset after dinner, and I wasn’t so sure about the chocolate eclairs.
Lane shrugged and fixed herself a small bowl of berries. “Missed you in the gym this morning. Where were you?” she asked Darcy.
Having come into the room, all-ears Tabitha came straight for the conversation. “You missed going to the gym? Since when?”
She shrugged again but this time a pink blush washed over her cheeks. “I was busy.”
Lane squinted at her friend’s easy smile and slumberous brown eyes. “At six in the morning?”
Darcy turned even redder.
“Oh, my God, you had morning sex,” Tabitha declared.
Taking a seat between Lane and me, Darcy leaned forward. “Actually, I had amazing morning sex, thank you very much.”
Tabitha refilled her glass and reached for a raspberry, muttering, “Bitch.”
All eyes were on her and we almost all said in unison, “You have sex all the time.”
With a laugh, Tabitha dropped down in the only remaining empty seat at the table. “That’s half asleep sex, which is nothing compared to morning sex.”
“It was pretty great,” Darcy told us.
“Nasty, nasty bitch,” Tabitha clarified and popped a strawberry in her mouth.
We all laughed this time but then Tabitha sobered and looked at me. “Is this okay?”
I took a sip of my mineral water and set it down. “Is what okay?”
“That we’re not talking about your father?”
I smiled at her. “God, yes. This is exactly what I needed.”
She took my hand. “Good, then I want to hear more about Darcy’s morning.”
Tyler came striding in with his hands tucked in his pants. “What was Darcy’s morning like that made it so memorable? Interesting case or something?”
“Or something,” Tabitha coughed under her breath.
Tyler raised the sexiest brow and picked up one of the small tarts. “Yeah, probably best I stop asking.”
Tabitha’s lips twisted. “Did my grandfather wake up yet?”
He finished chewing and then nodded. “Actually, I was coming in here to see if I could steal Paris to talk to him.”
Pushy Tabitha practically blasted me right out of the chair. “She’d love to.”
Making a face at her, I got up and smoothed my pants. “Yes, that sounds like a great idea.”
As I followed him, Tabitha called my name. “Paris.”
I looked over my shoulder. “Call me in there if you need help. And good luck.”
I sent her a smile.
My instinct was to grab ahold of Tyler and I had to force myself not to. At the entrance into the living room, he stopped and almost placed his hand on my back, but he refrained. “Ladies first.”
I passed him and sat on the sofa across from the chair Mr. Perkins was perched in. He was sipping a glass of whiskey and raised it when he saw me. “Hello.”
Tyler sat beside me, but not too close, and spoke loudly. “Mr. Perkins, Paris and I were hoping to ask you a few questions.”
The old man set his whiskey glass down. “No need to shout young man. I can hear you just fine. All I had to do was turn my damn hearing aid on.”
Okay then, the battery hadn’t died. Good. I grinned at him. “We were wondering if you remembered any of the details from the property you sold my father and Tyler’s grandfather.”
He studied me. “That was a long time ago.”
“Anything you can remember might be helpful,” Tyler told him.
Crossing one leg over the over, Mr. Perkins scrunched his features. This man was a cross between country and country club. “How about you start by telling me why you want to know?”
Tyler leaned forward. A sense of overwhelming power emanating from him as he told Mr. Perkins about the letter his grandfather left him and what he’d discovered about the property.
I sat forward too, mesmerized by the determination in his voice.
His huge body warmed mine just with how close he was. We were not touching, but I felt like we were. From the corner of my eye, I watched his profile as he spoke—with his strong jaw, sexy lips, that facial hair, and those long lashes—he really was beautiful.
Mr. Perkins rubbed his jaw. “You said Vince Gable’s winery is the only one of the three with direct highway access?”
Tyler nodded.
“I don’t think that’s right.”
“That’s the way the property was distributed.”
“Doesn’t make sense,” Mr. Perkins said. “The middle plat, although bigger, didn’t have highway access when I sold the land.”
Excitement swirled in the air. “That’s what we thought,” I told him. “But the old copies of the surveys we found amongst my father’s things aren’t clear enough to prove it.”
The old man slapped his knees. “Hot damn, if you wanted Highway Jane surveys, why didn’t you just ask me for them to begin with?”
Tyler and I both whipped our heads toward each other. “Highway Jane?” we asked in unison.
“Yeah,” Mr. Perkins said. “That was the original name put on the sales documents. I think I still have a bottle of that wine those two men made in the back of a pickup truck when they were trying to bribe me to give them an even lower price. Something about not wanting to take that third investor.”
“But you didn’t?” Tyler asked.
“Hell, no,” Mr. Perkins laughed. “I can’t stand the stuff. Now had they brought me whiskey, who knows what would have happened.”
We both laughed along with him although I found Tyler’s gaze and knew he was wondering what I was—yes who knows what would have happened.
“I have the surveys and the wine somewhere I’m sure. I just have to find them. Ask Tabitha, I never get rid of anything. Come by next Saturday and I’ll have the bottle and the surveys ready for you if you want them.”
I looked at Tyler.
He looked at me.
And we both smiled.
Highway Jane.
It couldn’t be more perfect.