The Perfect Husband: A nail biting gripping psychological thriller. Buffy Andrews

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СКАЧАТЬ want to spend it alone. But did I have the courage to purposefully seek change? I wasn’t sure.

      I crossed a bridge and drove into the city. Eric’s house was easy to find. It was a gorgeous Greek Revival row house located in an older section of the city that was crowded with historic homes. Eric had mentioned he’d bought the property about two years ago after his parents died and he came into a sizable inheritance. He hadn’t said how much he inherited and I didn’t ask, but I had the feeling it was substantial by some of the things he mentioned. The vacation house in the Caribbean being one of them.

      Slowly I drove past; the green shutters popped against the crisp white house. I admired the intricate iron work along the parlor floor and entrance and the lush window boxes overflowing with perennials and greens.

      Following his instructions, I turned right onto Locust Lane. It was narrow, and I breathed a sigh of relief there were no cars coming towards me. I turned right at the stop sign and drove about thirty feet before pulling into a space behind his house. I parked beside his black SUV. I texted him to let him know I’d arrived.

      He was at my door in Superman seconds. As soon as I got out of the car he wrapped me in his arms and squeezed me tight. ‘How was the drive?’

      ‘Not bad. I listened to an audiobook.’

      He stepped back and his eyes scanned my body. ‘Something’s different. Hmm. Your hair. You did something to your hair.’

      I tossed my head, flinging my hair off my shoulders. ‘I was at Andre’s before coming here.’

      Eric looked puzzled. ‘Andre?’

      ‘My hair stylist.’

      ‘Oh, yes. Of course. You mentioned that. You look amazing.’

      ‘Thanks.’ I looked up at the house. ‘Your house looks amazing.’

      Eric grabbed my overnight bag from the back seat and took my hand. ‘Let me show you around.’

      We walked up the sidewalk through his backyard. Even though the area was small, Eric had managed to turn it into a private oasis. A wooden fence surrounded the yard. A small pergola was tucked into the corner. The sidewalk was made from large pieces of slate. Dwarf shrubs and trees along with bold perennials packed the space.

      I stopped before entering the back door and turned around. ‘I had no idea you had such a green thumb.’

      Eric laughed. ‘There’s a lot about me you don’t know – yet!’

      I followed him inside and he gave me the grand tour.

      I looked around, drinking in every detail. ‘I love the high ceilings, built-ins and molding.’

      ‘Thanks. Most of the molding is original.’

      We walked into the dining room, tiled in classic black and white marble. ‘Is this floor original?’ I asked. ‘It’s absolutely gorgeous!’

      Eric smiled. ‘Yes. Original floor and original fireplace.’

      I turned around in a circle. ‘Your dining room could be featured in a home decorating magazine. It’s gorgeous.’ I ran my hand over the cherry table and sideboard. ‘Are these pieces you bought?’

      ‘Yes. I like antiques, as you can see. The whole house is full of them.’

      As I toured the house, I noticed that nothing was out of place. Even the books on the coffee table were neatly stacked, largest to smallest, each one placed exactly in the middle of the one beneath it.

      My vocabulary was nothing but ooohs and aaahs. The upstairs was equally impressive, from the leaded stained-glass windows to the mirrored tiles in the bathroom.

      ‘Here’s the guest bedroom.’ Eric opened the door and I walked into the buttercup yellow bedroom.

      I turned in a circle, my eyes jumping from the brass bed to the antique wooden armoire to the oak washstand with its harp style towel bar. ‘Everything is so beautiful.’

      ‘Please make yourself at home,’ Eric said. ‘My home is your home.’

Chapter 8

      I sat across from Eric eating the Cobb salad he’d made for lunch. ‘Not only are you a skilled decorator, but you’re also a whiz in the kitchen. This is delicious. Thanks!’

      ‘Glad you like it. Whenever I eat a Cobb I think about the Brown Derby in Hollywood.’

      I nodded. ‘Ah, yes. The purported birthplace of the Cobb salad.’ I laughed.

      ‘What’s so funny?’

      ‘I was just thinking about that scene from I Love Lucy. They’re eating at the Brown Derby and Lucy inadvertently causes a waiter to hit William Holden in the face with a pie.’

      ‘My grandmother loved that show,’ Eric said. ‘You’re way too young for that!’

      I smiled. ‘I’m an old soul, I suppose. I love old black-and-white movies and TV shows. I’m forever watching the channel that broadcasts all the oldies but goodies.’

      Eric sliced a dinner roll in half and buttered each side. ‘Maybe we can watch that channel later. First, I’d like to show you around town. There’s a lot of cool stores you might like. I have to run by the university anyway to check on one of my properties.’

      ‘You own properties?’

      ‘Just a few. I rent them to college students. It’s proven to be a nice investment and a great side income.’

      That explained the bush of keys he carried around. Maybe that’s why he wondered if I’d ever move here. He probably liked living near his properties in case there was an emergency, like a broken water pipe.

      I finished my salad and stood to take my plate over to the sink.

      ‘Sit!’ Eric shouted. His eyes and mouth were wide open as if my behavior had shocked him.

      I jumped and almost dropped my plate. I’m certain he noticed the horrified look on my face. What just happened? I felt like a child being scolded by a parent.

      He held up his hand. ‘Sorry. So sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.’ He jumped up and rushed over to me, rubbing my arm. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you, but I want to take care of you. You’re my guest. Please sit. Relax.’

      ‘I’m not used to being pampered.’ I sat back down. ‘I spent most of my life taking care of myself.’

      ‘Well, I want to take care of you. I want this weekend to be perfect for you.’

      ‘It’s off to a great start.’ I sipped my wine.

      Eric smiled.

      I finished my wine while he cleaned up. He was very thorough, wiping off the salad dressing bottle and butter container before putting them in the refrigerator. He straightened the set of canisters sitting beside the stove СКАЧАТЬ