Hiding Places

CHAPTER TWO

Beau Rochester

"Can I open my eyes?" Jane asks. She's got one hand blocking her vision and a big grin on her face. "You know, I've seen the plans for the house. I've been here lots of times."

"It's different." I want to remember her in this moment. Happy. Excited. Our new house has been under construction for months. Building a house seems like it should be straightforward. Approve the plans. Hire contractors. Break ground. Things come up, though. Problems to be solved. Decisions you didn't think you'd have to make. Delays. Now we're finally standing in front of the completed home, next to my car in the driveway. "Yes. Go ahead."

Jane takes her hand away and looks up at the house. A little gasp comes from her lips. "It's perfect," she says. "Look, Beau. It's our house."

I put an arm around her waist and pull her into my side. "Yes, it is."

I'm trying not to let on that this house is a goddamn miracle. My life with Jane is a miracle. She had no reason to stand by me after the way I treated her when we first met. I was a sullen asshole who was so hurt he couldn't see straight. I'm still an asshole. No one would argue that she turned me into a teddy bear. But it's impossible to be sullen when she's smiling like that.

"It's just how we wanted."

Actually, it's not just how we wanted.

There was a shortage of the paint color for the exterior, so it's a different shade of white. Half the shutters on the windows came in the wrong pattern so we switched them out midway through construction. Who the hell cares? If it's right in Jane's eyes, it's right.

Looks pretty good to me, too. We share a property line with the boundary of Coach House's grounds. The rebuilt Coach House is in sight of ours. Most importantly, it's within running distance for Paige. She can leave the door of Coach House and come over without going out of view for a second. Paige and Emily have a space that's all theirs. Refreshed and new, without any hauntings or bad memories. Coach House has the same massive, cliffside shape as it always did. It was registered as a historical property, so when it was rebuilt, it had to be to the old specifications. Updated electric, of course. Modern safety features. Traditional design.

Jane shades her eyes with her hand and looks over our house. In shape, it's more modern to Coach House. That kind of design made the most sense. Ours isn't as large, and it's much lighter, both in paint colors and actual light. Windows everywhere. Stunning views. Enough bedrooms to have Paige stay over. Paige and guests, even.

"Let me show you the inside." I'm nervous for her to see it. Not all of it will be a surprise to her, but some things will. I want her to love this place. If she doesn't, I'll tear the whole thing down and start again.

"Okay," she agrees.

Jane has seen the plans for the interior, but not the actual progress as we've worked. She follows me like an excited puppy. A wide, sunny foyer welcomes us into the house. Stairs lead up to the second floor.

"Straight back is the kitchen." I can see the countertops from here. "Living room's on our left."

"Show me the bedrooms," Jane says. "Then we'll come back downstairs." We go up together, Jane taking the stairs two at a time. "It smells so nice in here," she says with a sigh.

"It smells new. It smells like paint."

She laughs. "I like it." I like it, too. At Coach House, I was always looking over my shoulder. My brother's presence seemed like it was part of the walls there. Part of the furniture. Here, everything is for us. Jane turns a corner into a bedroom. "Paige?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"Oh my God," she breathes. "She's going to love it."

We did her room in a Monopoly theme. One of the walls is painted to look like a giant Monopoly game board. She's got a full-size bed with Monopoly throw pillows and an oversized stuffed thimble piece. Jane runs her palm over the dresser, then goes out to see the other guest rooms. One blue, one green. And then, at the back of the house, the master.

Jane's eyes get huge. "This is way bigger than it looked on the plans."

Sunlight pours in from windows that overlook the ocean. On one end of the room is a sitting area. A couch with a blanket thrown over the back and two chairs. A bookshelf. A table. At the other end is our new bed. Jane touches the end of the comforter lightly with her fingertips.

"This is like a fancy hotel."

"It won't feel like a hotel once we're here for a few nights."

Jane gets on tiptoe to kiss me. "I just meant that it's beautiful," she murmurs against my mouth. "Anywhere you are feels like home."

She's astonished at the size of the bathroom and our walk-in closets. Delighted at the hand-carved wooden floors and thick carpets. At the small architectural details throughout. Her joy is the first thing to enter the rooms since they've been completed.

I can't think of anything better.

Jane pauses one more time at the door to the master bedroom, and I take her in my arms. "We could spend the rest of the day in bed."

She turns her body to kiss me back. "We haven't seen the rest of the downstairs yet."

I only agree because there is something I want to show her. Something that wasn't included in the plans. The space was there, but not the final details. I chose those myself.

Jane twines her fingers through mine and pulls me down the stairs with her. We turn toward the kitchen and go down the hall. She peeks into my office, but I put my hands on her shoulders and guide her past.

The kitchen is large and light soaked. It would draw most women, but Jane sees the room I'm most proud of the second we step inside.

"Beau," she gasps. "What is that?"

"A sunroom."

It's off the kitchen. Technically, off the living room, too.

It's a vaulted room, impossibly high on one side, sloping down into a series of wide, slanted windows that look up through the trees. It continues down with a wall of windows, broken only by French doors. It feels like we're standing on a calm version of the cliff-there's a clear view of the sea. The designer I hired from New York has added live plants in the corners. A few black-and-beige prints of a nautilus. A small white-globe light hanging from the ceiling will provide only enough light to read when it gets dark.

She'll still be able to see the stars.

"This is my favorite spot," she says, climbing into the king-sized futon, complete with matching throw pillows and a large oversized knit blanket. Already an end table contains a stack of books, and she runs her fingers down the spines.

I want her fingers on me. "Your favorite spot? Not the bedroom?"

"My second-favorite spot, then," she says with an impish grin.

"There's something else."

"More than this?" Jane stands and walks to the kitchen. She opens her arms wide and twirls beneath the skylights. "I thought you were keeping things simple."

"It is simple."

I lead her back through the kitchen and stop at the first door on the right. Jane opens it and tiptoes in. "You wanted two offices?"

"It's for you." A real, honest-to-God office. Floor-to-ceiling shelves. A sturdy desk by a window that looks out on the side yard. An armchair for comfort. "You need a place other than the coffee shop or the sofa to do your work."

"I barely have any work yet." Her dark eyes are bright with happiness even as she tries to convince me that she doesn't need this. "Applications and essays."

"It's important work." I take her face in my hands and kiss her. Jane's sweet and warm. I could kiss her every second for the rest of my life and it wouldn't be enough. "It's how you'll take the next step. And once you've chosen that, you'll have this place to come back to. It's all yours."

"Let me see your office. Let me see where you'll be when I'm in here."

"It's on the other side of that wall."

"No door?" Jane's pout isn't serious, but if I could, I'd punch through the wall and make a door right now. "I guess it's better for focus."

"It's why we have separate rooms. If I could see you, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you."

I can't keep my hands off her now. We go over to my office. Jane gets quieter as we approach my desk. "This room is just like you. It's serious. A little. dangerous."

"Dangerous? The desk?"

"The man." She leans against the desk, her hands curling around the edge. Jane did this on purpose. We're down here because of the thrill. And because we've done things in my office before. Things that are too filthy for a sweetheart like Jane. "It makes me want you."

Everything makes me want her. She can't take a breath without me wanting her. She can't put on a shirt in the morning or wiggle her hips into sleep shorts at night without me wanting to fuck her. I should have more control over my urges at this point in life. Jane Mendoza has demolished that idea. I'm at the mercy of her.

"You didn't like the bedroom?"

"I love the bedroom." She watches me get closer. Tips her face up as I cage her against the desk. "I like your office, too."

"With the door wide open like this?" We're alone in the house, but she likes the suggestion of an illicit game. "Anyone could see you. Or hear you. There's nothing to...