Page 44 of Fake Wife
His voice is thick with emotion, but I don’t press him further. Something tells me Corbin grew up in a house where affirmation wasn’t freely handed out, only expectations and rules. Perhaps he’s simply not used to being seen for who he is, but I’m seeing him. Clearly.
And everything I see makes me like him, makes me want him more.
—
Since it’s dark when we arrive at Eleanor’s, floodlights and solar lights provide the only illumination for the beautiful landscaping around the front of her house and the detached garage. It feels almost creepy, all that black surrounding us, shadows from the rustling shrubs and ornamental cherry trees that have long since blossomed dancing along the mansion’s rock and brick facade.
Corbin pulls into the garage and turns off the engine. I haven’t been in here yet; the last time we were here he kept his car in the drive out front, and I’m not surprised to see three other vehicles taking up space in the garage bays.
The one that surprises me the most is an old black Ford Bronco, mud all over the rims and tires, splattering up to the windows, rust visible beneath the mud. It’s antithetical to everything else Corbin owns or drives, considering he whipped us out here in his Mercedes that’s now been fixed, but something tells me that it’s his, and that he loves it.
My heart softens further. The Bronco alone reminds me of growing up in Tennessee, going mudding on the weekends, high school parties on farm fields, sitting in the back of pickups and rusted-out SUVs with their tops popped and dancing around a campfire.
Caitlin’s words again flicker through my mind and this time they’re harder to push away.
What if we’re not as different as I thought we might be? What if despite his millions and inheritance and everything else the public knows about Corbin, something between us could actually work?
Butterflies swarm my stomach.
“Do you want to go see my workshop now or wait until it’s light out?”
I jump at Corbin’s voice, lost in fantasies and imaginations and hope of things that aren’t meant to be, and turn to him. “I want to see the workshop.”
He chews his lower lip, his uncertainty endearing him to me further.
Damn it. I’m falling for him. Hard and fast, and there’s no denying it.
Everything I learn about him pulls me closer to him, forces me under his spell.
“Okay then.” He nods once. “Let’s go.”
We get out of the car and I meet him at the back of the garage, where he’s digging through drawers on a shelving unit. He pulls out two flashlights, checks them to make sure they work, and hands one to me.
“We should have a lighted path to the barn, but just in case.”
“Thanks.”
I follow him through the garage’s back door, waiting while he hits a button to close the garage door. The noise echoes into the night as we head out on a paved path.
Last time I was here, I stuck to the house and back deck by the pool. I didn’t even know there was a building like this out here, it’s so far from the house. While we walk, I sweep my flashlight back and forth, trying to see as much as possible, but it’s all black beyond the glow.
I hear waves pounding the rocks in the distance, and coupled with the wind rustling through the trees, bugs chirping, and the occasional owl, my pulse quickens, lighting up my nerves and senses.
“It’s so calm out here,” I say, my voice just above a whisper, as if more sound would disrupt nature. “Peaceful and yet alive.”
Corbin glances down at me, and in the muted light, I can barely make out the twinkle in his eyes, the whiteness of his teeth as he smiles.
“When I was a kid, I used to beg Eleanor to bring me out here every weekend. Even through high school and college, as soon as I could get away from the city or campus, I couldn’t wait to be out here.” He raises his flashlight, lighting up a grove of trees I can barely make out in the distance. “Spent hours in the trees out there in the night, climbing them and sitting at the base of them when I was older. When Grandpa was still alive, he built me a tree house I used to beg them to let me sleep in.” He sighs, his chest expanding and falling, and keeps walking. “Always thought being out here was as close to heaven as you can get.”
“I don’t think you’re all that wrong. I was thinking of all the times I spent in the farm fields, wandering the creek banks when I was a kid. There’s something special about being alone with the sounds of nature.”
It sounds cheesy, and I turn away so he can’t see my embarrassment at saying something so inane, yet he makes a grunting sound, and I know it’s one of agreement.
We reach the barn, walking the rest of the way in silence, and I keep my flashlight on the door’s locks as Corbin digs keys out of his pockets.
He opens the door and turns to me. “This shop used to be my grandpa’s. I’m warning you now it’s a mess. And it’s not like there’s anything overly special—”
“Corbin,” I say, cutting him off kindly. “I’m pretty sure I’ll like whatever it is you show me in here. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”