Waking Up To Love (Lakeside Porches Book 4) (25 page)

“You met Justin how?”

He recounted their first meeting as lecturers at the university and their many photography adventures. “As Justin’s venture capital business took off, I suggested he use my services. We’re still partners and friends.”

Lyssa’s narrowed her eyes. “Help me out. Justin is at least ten years older than you, and he started his business almost twenty years ago. The math doesn’t work for me.”

“I was a brainiac who went through school in half the time. I was eighteen when Justin and I met, and I was, at that time, nearly finished with my doctorate. Justin was probably thirty, give or take.”

“And your estate,” she asked, “is it used for agriculture? Mining?”

“No more tin mining in Cornwall, luv. And we never had a working mine on Pennington property. The Pennington estate is mostly small farms—tilled fields, some cows and sheep, with a few cottage industries in the mix. Well, two at the moment. One photographer who uses the darkroom at Pennington House for any film work he does. And a fabric artist who creates colorful women’s clothing with wool she spins herself. Both very talented and successful in their businesses.”

She rubbed his back. “I’m sorry this sounds like an interrogation.”

“And I’m free to conduct one, as well?”

“Kyle,” she said with a laugh, “I am an open book.”

“You’re not always open about your feelings, luv.”

“You’re right, I suppose. Sometimes hysterical but quick to cover the rest.”

“Exactly.”

“I need to work on that.”

“Yes, please, luv.”

They’d reached the edge of the grassy park. Light from one of the streetlamps on Lakeside Terrace illuminated her face and the warmth in her eyes as she smiled at him. “I want this to work, Lyssa,” he told her. “I commit to honesty in all aspects of our relationship.”

“And I as well.”

“Including feelings. Both of us.”

She shivered. “That’s a little scary. I’ll practice with Gianessa. I promise you that.”

“See there, luv, we had a fight, and nothing terrible happened.”

She stroked his chest. “So, how do you feel about make-up sex?”

“Hot tip for you, Professor Doughty,” Rand said as he caught up to Lyssa Monday on the quad. Her only reaction was a surprised lift of the eyebrows.
Good, no animosity
.

“Rand, how are you?” Though her voice was friendly, her eyes were guarded.

“Life’s good. I just want to make you aware of a reception Wednesday evening to celebrate faculty publications. The deans are going all out. Catered hors d’oeurvres, Finger Lakes wines, student string quartet.”

“Lovely. Where is it?”

How I love that smile
. “Six o’clock in the president’s dining room.”

“I don’t know where that is. Do you?”

And that easy laugh
. “Westerlee Hall. It’s the old brick dorm past the library, which has been reimagined as a visiting-scholars’ residence. The dining room was beautifully reappointed by the trustees a few years ago, before my time.”

“Sounds elegant. And a wonderful occasion. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Six o’clock. Perhaps I’ll see you there?”

“Wednesday at six. I’ll plan on it. Thanks very much.”

So, Pennington doesn’t have an exclusive yet.

Although Gianessa had asked her to meditate daily, so far the closest Lyssa had come was taking twenty minutes a day to reflect. Her task was to sit quietly and review the day’s interactions, noting any change or growth on her part. Her reflections always went better on her porch, with the lake spread before her and, just maybe, a bit of Bridey’s wisdom on tap. That afternoon, Lyssa cradled a mug of hot tea to keep away the chill.

Please let me see growth
.

The chance meeting with Rand this morning had felt like progress, as if they’d reached a truce. He’d been upbeat and formal, and it was thoughtful of him to alert her to a faculty event. She’d never seen the announcement and hadn’t heard anyone talking about it.
That’s odd. Is there really such an event?
Could she trust him? She made a mental note to ask Bethany about the reception.

She wanted to be on a collegial basis with all her peers, including Rand. Was that unrealistic? For a moment today she thought she’d achieved a mutual respect with Rand. Time would tell.

Regret bubbled up. She wished she hadn’t kissed Rand that one time in her bedroom. She’d been so vulnerable, on the rebound, alone, trying too hard to move on after Kyle. She’d set herself up with that one kiss.

It wasn’t one kiss, Lyssa
. No, if she was honest with herself, she’d taken her fill of Rand’s sexy smooching and then praised him lavishly when he’d honored her limits. She’d had all the maturity of one of her students. Her cheeks flamed. Honesty was sometimes humbling.

Every interaction with him since had felt like she was fending him off. Why was Rand persisting?
Come on, Lyssa, you keep baiting him in your stupid spy mission
. She’d been exploiting his interest in her to dig for information.

In serving Justin’s needs, she was sharpening her own manipulation skills.
God, help me to stop that. I want to be trustworthy
.

And, speaking of trust, did she trust Kyle? Her face softened as she leaned forward, elbows on knees, and contemplated the wind-tossed waves, dotted with a few stand-out whitecaps. Yes, she trusted him. Their communication was improving. And the sex was
wow
.

Kyle had his quirks. So did she. It struck Lyssa as odd that Kyle’s closest connections were his clients and his nerdy second-in-command, Geoffrey. He’d never spoken of a confidant or a BFF or a hiking companion, other than Justin. Was Justin the only one?
But, really, it’s the same with me
. Until she’d met Kyle, her closest friends were Karin, whom she’d met in London at the start of her post-doc, and Manda. Until this fall, she and Manda hadn’t seen each other or shared many confidences as adults.

So Kyle and I are a couple of odd ducks who are lucky we’ve found each other?
At the thought, her heart fluttered, and her lips stretched in a smile. Gulls on the rocks below her set up a raucous laughter. “So glad you agree.” She stretched to her full height and set the mug on the railing.

The hair on her arms tingled. Bridey’s voice intruded in her head.
What do you want, Lyssa?

“I think I want to marry the quirky, brainy Cornishman and have a bunch of kids with him.” The porch shifted under her. She grabbed for the railing.
Why does that scare me?

The mug toppled off the rail. A few seconds later, it tinkled into a thousand pieces on the rocks. The gulls screeched and launched themselves in an upward spiral.

When quiet returned, Lyssa heard her own, raspy breaths.
Okay I get it.

“To marry Kyle,” she told Bridey, “I’d have to give up the old dream, the one with two teachers, two kids, and a closely monitored savings account. The one that kept me going after Manda and I lost our home and our parents.

“The one where I’m in charge.”

It was too scary to contemplate. She should talk with Gianessa about that.

“We appreciate your willingness to meet us so late in the day. Lyssa’s and my schedules had almost no windows of opportunity this week,” Kyle said to their realtor Andrea on Wednesday after work. They’d struck out with two houses in the northwest corner of the city, and it was dark now.

“Not a problem, Kyle. I know it’s dinnertime, but I have one more place I want you to see tonight. In fact, after hearing your comments about the other two houses, I think you’ll love this one. It’s walking distance to the college, on a quiet residential street. Lots of big old trees that we don’t see in the new developments. Shall we take a look?”

He nodded. “Okay, Lyssa?”

“I’m in.” She took the listing sheet from Andrea. “I’ll navigate, and we’ll meet you there.”

Kyle walked with Lyssa to his car, his hand at the small of her back. “Are you too tired?”

“No, but I am hungry, and I don’t think Ralphs biggest burger is going to do it tonight.”

“I think our act is ready for the Manse Grille. That’ll really get the gossips going.”

“You’re a genius.”

He kissed her mouth. “That’s just in case Andrea is looking in her rear view mirror.”

“And I thought you just wanted to kiss me.”

“This is how much I really want to kiss you, and it’s not for Andrea’s eyes.” He drew her hard against him and kissed her breathless. “You
are
a hungry woman. I was afraid for my tongue for a moment there.”

She laughed as she slid into the passenger seat.

“We’ll take a quick look at this next place and head to the Manse for a lovely meal and a good, long talk.”

They turned onto Seneca Street, peaceful this evening. Streetlamps made pools of light. “Nice neighborhood,” he said.

Lyssa scanned the house numbers. “Kyle, it’s that sweet older place just beyond Andrea’s car. Let’s park in the driveway.”

After he turned off the engine, he took a moment to savor the look on Lyssa’s face.
She’s enchanted
. He’d seen that look when she’d first come to Pennington House and spied the flower garden outside the morning room—roses at the center, perennials galore, bordered by a holly hedge. “Like it?” he asked Lyssa as he opened her car door.

“Lots of curb appeal, don’t you think?” Andrea said in his ear.

Kyle wanted to swat her away like a pesky insect.

Lyssa apparently saw his impatience. She answered Andrea. “Yes, it makes a smashing first impression. I love the blue-gray clapboard and cream trim.”

“And the dark shutters,” Kyle said, “but I don’t think much of the neon yellow door.”

While Andrea fussed with the lock box, Lyssa said, “Pink would work well, don’t you think?”

“You’d paint the house pink, if you could.”

She squeezed his arm.

Andrea cleared her throat. “You probably noticed from the listing sheet it has just two bedrooms, each with a bath.”

“Both upstairs?”

“Yes. You’ll see there’s also a small room up there the owners used as an office.” She paused with the key in her hand. “Personally, I think this front porch is private enough to enjoy morning coffee or an any-time chat with a friend.”

She opened the front door and let them in ahead of her. “We’ll start with the first floor and the backyard, and I’ll point out some nice features that were added by the last owner, all in the past few years.”

Besides the gracious living and dining rooms, the first floor had a powder room, laundry room, and newly remodeled kitchen and family room that extended beyond the footprint of the original house.

“Lyssa, what do you think of the kitchen?” Andrea asked.

“They spared no expense. Marble countertops, high-end appliances, plenty of space to prepare meals. In terms of resale value, the sticking point is the shortage of bedrooms. But it’s a great house for a single person like Kyle, or for a single mom or dad, or as a starter home for a young couple. Kyle, what do you think?”

Kyle redirected his gaze from the backyard to the kitchen. “Yes, quite right. Can we get some light on the back? It looks like a tangle of weeds.”

Andrea switched on a floodlight that illuminated the back yard and a two-car garage.

“So the garage is detached and quite a distance from the house, but it’s obviously new and probably has an automatic door,” Kyle said.

“Yes, it does. As for the tangle of weeds in the middle of the lawn, that was once a prize rose garden featured on garden tours every summer. When the last owner decided to add the family room and garage, they put off tending it until the construction was done. By then, the oriental maple at the center of the garden had died and the roses were . . . Well, you can see that it would take a great deal of work to restore it.

“The husband fell ill, and the wife focused on his care until he passed. She decided to sell last summer and moved to Tucson to be near her daughter. She asked me if she should rip out the garden, which is an eyesore at this point, but the local garden club assured us the rose bushes are salvageable and quite valuable.”

Lyssa stood with her hands pressed against the panes of the French doors, her gaze sweeping over the cozy brick patio and the messy garden.

Kyle placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you imagining it healthy again, restored to its former glory?”

“Yes, with a water feature where the dead tree is now. Wouldn’t that be lovely to look at over morning coffee on the patio?”

“This house is not very practical, Lyssa,” he said.

“This house could make me forget practical, Kyle.”

“The listing sheet says the basement is unfinished, with low ceilings, dry enough for storage but not suitable for constructing more rooms.”

Lyssa reluctantly stepped back, the excitement gone from her face. “Then you’re right. The house is only suited to a few buyers.”

“Lyssa . . .”

Andrea said heartily. “It’s just right for a single or a single parent, as you noted, Lyssa, or a couple starting out or empty-nesters who can still manage stairs. Shall we take a look upstairs?”

“Yes, please,” Kyle said.

The master suite comprised the original room plus the additional square footage above the new family room, with a large closet and new bathroom. When he caught sight of the high-tech shower, he changed his mind about the house. Next to the glass enclosure was a bathtub big enough for two. All the fixtures gleamed, and the tiling was a warm, light gray.

“The master suite is a nice place to start your day, Kyle,” Andrea said.

“Yes, I suppose it is.”
And to end my day, naked, with Lyssa
.