She followed him down the hall. Was he going to bring up last night? Or tell her why he’d emailed Marta? Or even mention that she was going to be staying with him for the next four days?
He turned to the right when they got to the staircase, and pointed again. “Living room.”
Apparently not.
Izzy followed Beau into the living room. It was a large, bright room, with a big fireplace, comfortable-looking couches, photographs on the walls, and the same gorgeous view as Izzy’s bedroom. Huh. She’d assumed that Beau had bought this house a year ago, or that it was some kind of fancy rental, but this living room made it look like an actual home that real people had lived in. Now she was confused.
He turned and pointed to a half-open door a few steps down the hall. “TV room.”
Did he watch TV in there? She could just picture him in there at night, watching wrestling or Animal Kingdom or whatever.
“Okay,” she said.
He glanced over at her, then quickly away. Why had he looked away from her so fast? Did she have something in her teeth? Chocolate on her shirt? She looked down at herself: She was wearing jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan, since almost everything else she’d brought with her to California was either conference wear or pajamas. Thank goodness she’d brought those two sundresses in a fit of optimism. She’d certainly get wear out of them over the next few days.
They turned back toward the front entry, passing two big closed wooden doors that looked sort of like church doors. Beau didn’t say anything as they walked by, but Izzy was curious about them. She shrugged to herself; she might as well ask.
“What’s in there?” she asked.
Beau shook his head. “No.” Oh great, there was that growl again. “Off-limits.”
How many weird, cursed rooms were in this house?
“Okay.” What else could she say?
He gestured to the staircase as they walked by. “Upstairs.”
This time, she couldn’t hold herself back.
“Yeah, I got that. Because of the stairs and all.”
Was that a smile? It flashed on his face for a half second, but it was gone before Izzy could really be sure.
“Right.” He glanced in her direction. “Upstairs is off-limits for me. While you’re here, I mean. I don’t want you to feel like…Anyway, upstairs is all yours. Go wherever you want, I don’t care.”
Was that…Was he trying to make her feel comfortable? It actually sort of worked, if that had been his intention. But now she had no choice but to bring up the night before.
“You, um, came upstairs last night, though,” she said.
He looked away from her again. “I know. I…You hadn’t had dinner.” He looked back at her. “I won’t do it again.”
She nodded. “Okay. And thanks for bringing me dinner.”
He shrugged. “It was the least I could do.”
She started to respond, but he immediately turned toward the front door. Okay, then. She followed him outside.
He turned to the right when they got outside and went around the side of the house. “Vegetable garden.” He pointed again. He’d managed to put actual complete sentences together for a while there inside, and now he was back to the stone-faced pointing.
She gazed at the vegetable garden. Vegetables growing outside in February. Incredible.
Beau turned and walked toward the back of the house, gesturing at the row of trees. “Orchard.”
At that, Izzy laughed out loud. She couldn’t help herself. “You have an actual orchard in your backyard?”
Beau looked at her sideways. “What’s wrong with that?”
She rolled her eyes. “Nothing is wrong with it. It’s just…” Rich people really lived in totally different worlds, didn’t they? “Okay, what kinds of trees? What fruit?”
He looked at them. “Oranges, lemons, I think grapefruit maybe? Definitely figs. Oh, and of course avocado.”
“Oh right, of course avocado,” Izzy said. Yes, obviously, it made sense that there would be an avocado tree here. Izzy wasn’t even sure if she’d known before this moment that avocados grew on trees.
There was that split-second smile again, so fast she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. He turned back to the trees. “I should pick some of these for Michaela, actually. She always needs lemons.” He reached up and plucked a few ripe yellow fruits off one of the trees.
Now she wanted to laugh out loud again, out of sheer amazement. She’d managed to finagle herself a “work trip” in this house that was so big and foreign to her it was basically a castle, where the gardens were so extensive she wouldn’t be surprised if she walked over a moat, where she could just walk outside and pick lemons and oranges from the orchard, where she was a little too warm in a tank top and a cardigan in the middle of winter, and where someone was going to cook her all her meals? This was like those fairy tales about girls held captive by monsters. Except, opposite.