“What is it that you want?”
“Some land, an awesome backyard. I have a big family and want to be able to have them over. An open floor plan. Five bedrooms, a basement, and at least a three-car garage. I can build another garage for my toys, so that’s not a deal breaker for me.”
“Why do you, a single man, need a house that big?”
“I’m not going to be single forever.” He winks at me.
My stomach flips and knots at the same time. The thought of him not being single causes the knots to form. We’re hanging out, but we’ve never labeled us, and he never presses me for more than kisses. I’m so confused, but I don’t dare ask what’s going on. I already know he’s just passing the time. Why else has he made no move for us to be more?
“Come on,” he says, grabbing his keys and climbing out of the car.
“Are we allowed to be here?” I ask, trailing after him.
“Yes. The owners have already moved out.”
“Okay,” I say hesitatingly. He reaches back and takes my hand in his as we walk around peeking in windows. “You know, realtors can actually get you inside,” I tease.
“I know, but I’ve looked at the pictures. I just want to get an idea of the lay of the land and see if the outside is what I want. The inside can be changed.”
“Good point,” I agree.
“This one’s okay,” he finally says, “but I think the other one is going to be better. At least from the pictures. It’s hard to tell.”
He leads me back to the car, and we drive to a house that’s maybe two miles from Grant and Aurora. “Wow,” I say when we pull into the driveway.
“Right?” he agrees. “This one ticks off all of my boxes. Twenty acres, five bedrooms, four-car garage, full finished basement, open concept, the inside is immaculate from the pictures, huge walk-in shower in the master bath.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It is. There’s a huge patio in the back, with a sunken fire pit, a pool, and a hot tub. That’s what I want to see,” he says, rubbing his hands together.
Together, we walk around, peering in windows, and from what I can see, this one is so much nicer than the first. When we walk around to the backyard, or should I say back oasis, I know this is the one he’s going to choose.
“This is it,” he says as if reading my thoughts. He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Marshall Riggins,” he greets whoever he called. He rattles off the address. “Perfect. See you then.” He ends the call and smiles at me. “That was the realtor. Her assistant is in the area just finishing with an open house and is coming over to show it to us.” He grins like a kid who has just been taken to a candy store and told to go crazy with anything he wants. It’s infectious and endearing.
“Well?” Marshall asks. We’ve just pulled out of the driveway of the house that I’m certain he’s going to buy.
“I think it’s a beautiful home.”
“I love it.”
“You’re buying it, aren’t you?”
“Hell yes, I am. I told her to offer full asking.”
“You didn’t even negotiate?”
“Nope.” He reaches over and places his hand on my thigh. “You ready to go get your girl?” he asks.
“Yes.”
On the short drive to his parents’, he talks about the house and how it’s exactly what he’s been hoping to find. He talks about it being close to his family, which is important to him. The Riggins are a tight-knit group, and I love that about them. I envy what they have. The entire drive, he never removes his hand from my thigh. It’s a move he does all the time and one I’ve come to crave from him.
When we get to his parents’, Madeline squeals when she sees us, but Marshall makes it to her first. He gives her a hug and then holds his hand out for me. I take it, and he pulls me into his chest as well. “Thanks for watching her,” he tells his parents.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime. We enjoyed it,” Stanley says.
“Next time you’re going with them, you baby hog,” Lena teases.
“Hey, it’s the Riggins charm,” he quips, making us laugh.
“Wren, you must come for Sunday dinner tomorrow,” Lena says.
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude.”
“Mom, I’ve been trying to get her to come for weeks. Good luck,” Marshall grumbles.
“Darlin’.” Stanley comes to stand in front of me. “You and that angel of yours are always welcome in our home. We’d love to have you,” he tells me.
How do I say no to that? “Okay.” I nod. “Thank you for the invitation. What can I bring?”
“Yourself and that baby of yours. Marshall, you’ll make sure they get here?” Lena asks.
“I’m all over it. I don’t even care that you gave into Dad and not me. I’m just really glad you’re coming to Sunday dinner. Finally,” he exaggerates.