Nerd Girl(95)

“What do you think?” Ryan asked.

“The home is lovely. The view from the deck is breathtaking. If I owned it, I would never want to leave.”

“Good. I’d like to spend more time up here.”

“What do you think?”

“It’s fantastic. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. I love the privacy here and it’s quiet. You don’t get as much traffic on this bay. We could easily dock the boat out there.” He pointed towards the buoys in the distance.

I couldn’t help notice that he said we.

Ryan had explained to me on our boat ride over to the islands that he wanted to purchase a vacation home, but then rent it out during the year on the weeks that he wouldn’t be visiting. It was a win-win for him—an investment, a vacation home, and he could make a little money offering it as a rental.

The second option was closer to Friday Harbor. We passed a large meadow filled with wildflowers as we drove down the long driveway. This home was older than the one we’d just come from and there were a few trees surrounding it. It was all wood, painted blue with white trim, and boasted the most fabulous wraparound porch. With the meadow out front and a cobblestone garden path leading up to the front steps, the home reminded me of one of the many cute B&B farmhouses around the island. It even had a porch swing that brought visions of drinking coffee on a lazy Sunday morning. When we walked to the back of the house and then further down to the beach, I watched a ferry arriving in the distance.

I wasn’t impressed with the interior, though. It was clean and well taken care of, but the style of the decor was clearly country. I envisioned the current owners as older, and at least one of them was into flowers, based on the wallpaper selections. I supposed it could be remodeled to reflect more modern tastes. If Ryan’s current home was an indicator of his tastes, my guess was that this one wouldn’t be his favorite.

As if he could read my mind, he grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go.”

Apparently my assumptions were correct.

The last home was similar to the first one. It was Northwest Contemporary and just built last year. Ryan’s initial reaction was positive and he asked Renee a lot of questions about the foundation, since it was built on a bluff. A lot of this discussion was over my head, so I tuned them out, focusing on walking down the steep incline of stairs that led to the beach. Once we reached the bottom of the stairs, there was long dirt path between brush and trees before we finally made it to the rocky beach. Getting to the beach was somewhat of a hike, but once we you got there, the view was stunning. It wasn’t a bay in a closed inlet like the first home—we were looking at Puget Sound. My attention focused back to Ryan and Renee; I heard Renee say something about being able to see pods of whales in the distance during the summer.

I was intrigued by the natural wildlife in the area and inclined my head in Renee’s direction to hear more. I noticed her hand gracing Ryan’s shoulder and biceps. I sighed and then realized I may have breathed a bit too loudly; it came out more like a huff than a breath. Ryan must’ve heard me because he was looking at me with a mixed look of annoyance and tolerance in his eyes. The look wasn’t directed at me, but clearly meant for Renee’s overt touchiness. He was obviously aware of how her not-so-subtle actions were affecting my mood.

Renee, realizing we were sharing a private moment, looked over at me with curiosity, clueless to the cause of the exchange. I walked directly over to Ryan and put one arm around his waist. I was marking my territory and the petty part of me felt a little immature. Renee merely gave me a tight lipped smile. Ryan looked mildly amused.

Renee dropped us off back at Hotel De Haro and we said our goodbyes. Ryan needed to some time to think about the properties and said he would contact Renee if he had any questions. When Ryan extended his hand, she ignored it and instead embraced him, giving him a kiss on the cheek in an attempt at a European farewell. She formally and politely said goodbye to me and told me how nice it was to meet me. As she walked back to her car, I blew out a breath and an involuntarily “humph.”

“You can’t possibly be jealous of her, are you?” Ryan asked with an amused expression.

“No,” I said, somewhat defensively but humored by own possessive behavior.

“You don’t seem to me to be the jealous type,” Ryan teased.

“Not really. Well, maybe. Depends,” I said, fingering the zipper of my jacket. “I just didn’t like how touchy she was with you. And right in front of me! I mean, how rude was that?”

“Aw, now, she wasn’t that bad. Just … friendly,” he said, chuckling. “You’re kind of cute when you’re jealous.”