A Love Like This. Kianna AlexanderЧитать онлайн книгу.
he’s the oasis.”
She pursed her lips. “Thanks for that colorful description, B. Anyway, I’ve stayed away from him because I knew he was grieving, and I respected that. But I think five years is more than reasonable, don’t you?” Around town, it was common knowledge that escaping to the vacation house had been part of Devon’s way of coping with the loss of his wife. Regardless of her strong feelings for him, Hadley could never bring herself to infringe on his grief.
Belinda nodded as they rounded the corner, passing the tree to head upstairs. “Yes, Hadley. Five years is very respectable. You’ve been very patient, considering how obsessed you are with him.”
On the landing, Hadley gave Belinda a playful punch on the shoulder. “Shut up, B. It’s not an obsession. It’s not like I have an altar to him or something.”
A chuckling Belinda cracked open the door to the master bedroom. “You know I’m just playing with you. But you have to admit, you’ve got it pretty bad.”
Hadley could feel her face relaxing, and she could see her softening expression reflected at her in the bedroom mirror. “Yeah, you’re right. And this year, I’m going to do something about it. It’s my Christmas gift to myself.”
She looked around the space. Belinda’s crew had done a great job, and she admired the freshly made four-poster, king-size bed. The bed, along with the matching nightstands and dresser, were all fashioned of polished oak and adorned with an etched ivy-leaf pattern. The soft grey carpet felt like a cloud beneath her feet.
They left the bedroom and continued through the upper floor.
“More power to you. Get your man, girl.” Belinda peeked into the bathroom. “Do you have a plan for how you’re going to approach him?”
Hadley answered as they finished checking the upstairs room and descended the stairs. “I’ve got a start. I’m going to meet him at arrival and give him a gift to thank him for renting from us for the past five years. That will get me in, at least.” It was something the company did all the time for repeat clients, and making the delivery herself gave her a perfect excuse to spend time in Devon’s company.
Back in the living room, Belinda turned to Hadley and tossed her the keys. “That will get you in, true enough. But once you’re alone, what are you going to say to him?”
Hadley imagined his face and shook her head. “I don’t have the faintest idea. I guess I’m winging it.” After all these years of denying herself this particular piece of dark chocolate, she just hoped she’d be coherent enough to get her point across.
The two women left the unit laughing, and Hadley locked the door behind them.
* * *
Devon Granger moved around the master bedroom of his Los Angeles home, tossing things into the open suitcase lying on his bed. His flight to North Carolina would depart in a few hours, and he needed to get it together if he expected to make it in time to board the plane. Flying out of LAX was one of his least favorite things to do—the place never seemed to have a time when it wasn’t crowded. Still, it was the closest airport to his Silver Lake home. Going a little early meant he wouldn’t have to rush.
Devon’s work as an actor had left him more than financially secure, but he wasn’t the type of guy to spend his money on private jets, yachts and other things he saw as unnecessary. He just flew first or business class, concealed his identity, and kept to himself on flights and in airports. Other than the occasional overzealous fan who’d demand an autograph or selfie, his system had served him well over the years.
He stopped to regard the suitcase, his eyes scanning the contents. He’d packed mainly comfortable clothing for his annual holiday vacation, and he looked forward to lounging around his favorite beach rental overlooking the Atlantic. Force of habit made him also pack slacks, button-downs and a few ties, just in case.
As he leaned over the bed to tuck his socks into an outer compartment, a twinge shot through his lower back. Grimacing, he jerked upright again before uttering a low curse. He was still relatively young, just shy of thirty-five. Despite his youth, his recent injury had made him question whether he should keep performing his own stunts in his action roles.
Before Thanksgiving, he’d shot the final scene for the upcoming Destruction Derby 3. When he’d made the daring leap, escaping an explosion that would be added in later via the magic of special effects, he’d landed improperly, resulting in a herniated disk. It wasn’t the first time he’d been injured while executing a stunt, but it was his most serious injury to date.
The bed began buzzing, drawing his attention back to the moment at hand. He searched around until he located his phone, tucked between the suitcase and his comforter. Grabbing it, he answered the call on speaker. “Hi, Ma. How are you?”
Eva Sykes Granger’s voice filled the room. “I’m fine, but how are you? Is your back okay?”
“It’s fine, Ma.” It wasn’t a lie, per se. Once he took his medication and gave it time to get into his system, he’d be feeling somewhat better.
“Are you sure you’re up to that long flight? Don’t you think you should sit out the vacation this year?” Her words were laced with motherly concern.
“I wouldn’t think of it.” He’d come to look forward to this getaway, far from the fast-paced hustle and bustle of LA. He craved the respite of the quiet oceanfront hamlet where he’d been born. “Besides, it’s not a nonstop flight. I’ve got a layover in Dallas, and I’ll be sure to stretch.”
She sighed. “Well, you’re an adult. I don’t suppose I can stop you from going.”
He shook his head, tucking his last item of clothing into the suitcase and closing it. “Ma, you know why I go home every year. What I don’t know is why you and Dad don’t come with me. You know I’d cover your tickets.”
Another sigh. “Christmas in North Carolina is a bit much for your father and me. You know we aren’t religious, and we’re happier keeping things low-key this time of year.”
He chuckled. “I know, Ma. You and Dad aren’t exactly filled with the Christmas spirit.” His parents lived in a palatial home he’d bought them when he had completed his first film, but David and Eva’s idea of holiday decoration consisted of battery-operated candles in the front windows and a single strand of white lights, placed in a palm tree by their gardener.
As if reading his mind, she said, “I know what you’re thinking, Devon. And I’ll have you know Mr. Roper strung lights in two of our palm trees this year.”
Grateful his mother couldn’t see him rolling his eyes, he quipped, “Don’t overdo it now, Ma.”
She laughed, the familiar sound warming Devon’s heart. “Oh, go on with you. Make sure you call us and let us know you got there safely.”
“I always do.” He zipped the suitcase closed, placing his trusty lock in the loops to secure it.
“Devon...there’s one more thing.”
Noticing the hesitation in her tone, he sat down on the edge of the bed. “What is it, Ma?”
“Your father and I were talking, and we really want to see you settled down again.”
He sighed. He’d been hoping to avoid this conversation this year, but it seemed that wasn’t going to happen. “Ma. I don’t really want to talk about this.”
“I know you don’t, son, so just hear me out. It’s been five years since Nat left us, and we’re ready for you to get off the merry-go-round and find a nice girl to bring home.”
“Merry-go-round? Really, Ma?” He’d started dating again about two years ago, and since then he’d gone out with his share of women. He’d even satisfied his urges here and there, but the term his mother had just used seemed to go too far in describing his life as a young widower.
“You’ve dated plenty of