“Hereyou go. Drink up,” she cooed, doting on him as though he was someone to her.
“Thankyou, sweetheart,” Sebastian replied, gratefully taking the glass from her and drinkingit down in two strong gulps. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hesighed appreciatively. “I’ll go put that cage together. That way, you ladiescan get straight to business and I can play with the chinchilla. Everybodywins.”
Iso badly wanted to hate him for being so arrogantly sweet. The trouble was, Icould tell it wasn’t an act. This was just the way he was, and although it was irritatinglyimmature, I almost found his demeanor to be refreshing. A break in the morose monotonyof my life.
Almost.
“Thatwould be lovely, Sebastian. Thank you so much.” Mrs. Worthington smiled,reaching a hand out to briefly touch his elbow. “And by the way, I doappreciate all of your body art. Very tastefully done. I see some of theseyoung people with silly little trinkets doodled all over their skin, but yoursare stunning.”
Raisinghis forearms, he twisted them from back to front. “What, these old things?”Bowing his head, he smiled gratefully. “You have a good eye for fine art.”
Theold woman wasswooning. Staring at him like he was sent to her by GodHimself. As Sebastian turned toward the kitchen, Mrs. Worthington eyed me overher shoulder with those glittering blue eyes of hers.
“IfI didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks a lot like Greyson,” she commentedwith a gentle smile.
“Thatwould be because he’s Greyson’s father,” I admitted without apprehension. Itwas the truth and she’d guessed accurately.
“Howlovely that he’s in the boy’s life,” Mrs. Worthington declared with a glowingsmile.
Sebastianreturned to the foyer, bending to hoist the cage into his arms. From behind,Mrs. Worthington and I shared a moment of our own silent appreciation for the wayhis jeans hugged his ass perfectly. Tailored to fit, no doubt, and we watchedhim walk toward the closed door at the back of the room. The shifting andbunching of his t-shirt, stretched over his back and biceps, was almost theequivalent to a striptease. Tantalizing. Hypnotizing.
Howlovely, indeed.
***
“Isthere anything I have to do with this … computer hullabaloo?” Mrs. Worthingtonasked, screwing her face up and showing her blatant distaste for technology.
Thewoman didn’t even own a TV. Her entertainment consisted entirely of reading,gardening, and knitting.
“Nota thing,” I told her gently, laying a hand over her knee.
“Youknow, I just would’ve preferred the house go to someone local, preferably someonefamiliar,” she persisted.
I’dheard her say this six times over the past hour, but still, I continued to nodwith the patience of a saint. “I know, Mrs. Worthington. But the residents ofHog Hill already live here, and not a whole lot of people are reading the HogHill Gazette.”
Ichose to leave out the fact that nobody in town had the money to afford such abig and beautiful house. It was the only mansion within town lines, and themajority of the town folk were upper-middle class, at best.
“Butthe ads in the papers …” She offered a rueful smile and shook her head. “Ithought it would be better than announcing it to the world. I-I don’t want theplace to be torn down and turned into some mini-mall.”
“Iknow.” I nodded sympathetically. “But I promise I will make sure whoever getsthe house respects its integrity. You know I would never sell it to someone whodidn’t.”
“Oh,honey, I know.” She nodded firmly, to herself more than me. Her eyes flittedskyward and clasped her hands over her heart. “I just wish we’d had children.This wouldn’t have been a problem then.”
Sebastianintruded on the business conversation, reminding me that he was still there.Sandy was nestled in the crook of one muscular arm, as the opposite handstroked along his back and tail.
“Softestthing in the fucking world,” he confirmed with a shit-eating grin. He liftedSandy to eye-level and grinned unabashedly. “Tabby, have you ever held thisthing? He’s such a sweetheart.”
Therewas something strangely endearing about this grown man holding the littlecritter to his nose and nuzzling it.
“Yes,I’ve had the pleasure a number of times,” I told him, unable to stop my smileas I turned to Mrs. Worthington.
“I’mgetting one,” Sebastian declared, hugging Sandy to his chest. “This isdefinitely happening.”
“I’vealways had pets,” Mrs. Worthington nodded solemnly. “I need the companionship.Something to be happy I’m home.”
Invitinghimself to sit at the table, Sebastian dropped into the chair beside me,ruffling Sandy’s little head. “Bet it was nice when your husband was alive.”
“Yes,it was.” Mrs. Worthington smiled with that tinge of sadness that was alwayspresent whenever she spoke about him. “It was just the two of us with a dog formany years, and when he passed, so did our dog at the time. I got Sandy shortlyafter.”
