BYthe time Drew punched the code Steve had given him into the automated gate, it was after six. Traffic in LA always sucked out loud.
The gate retracted smoothly, and Drew put the Land Rover back in gear, following the private driveway. A fifteen-foot hedge surrounded the property, which extended a lot farther than Drew thought. Steve had dropped hints here and there that he hadn’t wanted for anything growing up, and his tuxedo was expensive and current, but still. Drew hadn’t expected a place like this. This was something he’d dreamed of buying someday, when he got tired of the view from his Santa Monica high-rise.
Steve hadn’t emerged by the time Drew parked at the curve of the circular driveway, so he grabbed his bag and got out of the SUV.
The house was a sprawling bungalow, well-kept, with beige stucco and white shutters and a red terra-cotta roof. The yard was big enough that the sun shone in, even over the tall hedge. A rock garden full of cacti bordered the walk to the front door, and as Drew approached, an alligator lizard skittered across the porch, its scales gleaming.
He had to admit he was a little apprehensive about coming out here. Steve had assured him they’d have privacy, but Drew simply didn’t get that very often, at least not without measures beyond most homeowners. Here, though…. Well, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t be leaving the house for three days. It seemed unlikely the paparazzi would find him.
He knocked on the door and set his bag down, careful to avoid the lizard.
“It’s open!” Steve called from somewhere inside. Apparently he wasn’t concerned about intruders if they’d gotten past the front gate.
Drew opened the door, then bent to pick up his bag. But before he could take a step inside, there was a skittering of nails on hardwood and forty-plus pounds of furry enthusiasm hit him in the stomach.
“Rita!” Steve admonished as Drew dropped his bag again. It made a slightly ominousclunk. “No!”
Drew ignored it and focused on the beautiful creature in front of him. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Rita was a—well, she was a dog, reminiscent of a husky but smaller and fluffier, with a down-soft coat that was gray on her back and the top of her head and white on her face and belly. She must have thought Drew smelledwonderful, because she shoved her nose under his chin, sniffing and snuffling. Drew dug both hands into the ruff at her neck, fully aware he was encouraging behavior he shouldn’t.
“I’m so sorry,” Steve apologized, coming in through a sliding patio door at the back of the house. He had barbecue tongs in one hand and wore a striped apron tied around his waist. “She’s normally shy and retiring. She must’ve thought your car was Mom’s. She usually hides when she hears cars in the driveway.”
“Oh yeah,” Drew said, stepping back a little so Rita’s paws hit the floor and then bending to greet her more thoroughly. She flopped onto her back to invite more pets. “I can see that. Real tough customer.”
Rita licked his chin.
“I’m starting to get jealous,” Steve commented, and Drew looked up and grinned.
“I’ll rub your belly later, if you want.”
Steve rolled his eyes, but his ears were red and his eyes crinkled in the smile Drew was starting to find addictive. “Maybe after dinner. You like ribs?”
“Does the Pope shit in the woods?” A light breeze blew through the open back door, bringing with it the scent of slow-cooking meat. Drew’s stomach growled. Lunch was a long time ago.
“No, but Rita does.” Steve gestured to the backyard. “I have to go pull dinner off the grill, but make yourself at home. Sorry for the bad timing. This isn’t the welcome I envisioned.”
Drew couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for him without being paid to. Maybe his mom. “As far as I’m concerned, your timing is perfect. Nothing to apologize for.” Though it might have been nice to have gotten Rita’s enthusiastic greeting from Steve.
Rita licked his face again.
Then again, Rita probably couldn’t cook.
With Steve outside, Drew got off the floor and brought his bags in. Then he looked around.
He was standing in the foyer of a sunny open-concept room that seemed to be located in the middle of a U-shaped house. Opposite him, a step down led into a cozy sunken living room. To the right, an airy modern kitchen with butcher block countertops led toward the back, so that it and the wing on the left side of the house sheltered a patio where Steve was tending the grill.
To the left, a hallway lined with family portraits housed a powder room—the open door showed white tile, blue walls, and a frosted window—and, presumably, bedrooms.
Drew should put his bag in one of them… but he didn’t want to seem like he was snooping, so he left it by the door and went to wash up. Once Rita realized the belly-rub offer had expired, she trotted to the back door to supervise Steve.
“So.” Drew stepped outside, sliding the door closed behind him. “You never mentioned you had a dog.”
“She’s my mom’s dog, really.” Steve transferred one last slab of ribs to a plate, then closed the lid of the grill. “A friend of mine found and rescued her on a television set but couldn’t keep her. I fell in love, obviously, but there’s no room in my apartment either. This was just after my dad died, so I thought maybe she and Mom could look after each other.”
That was sweet.
“And also Mom and I always wanted a dog when I was a kid,” Steve added. “But Dad was allergic.”
