A Rare Gift Read Online Free PDF Page A

leaned against the counter, so she grabbed a stool at the bar and opened her beer, sipped and swiveled around to take a look at the house.
    It was stunning despite the lack of furniture. High ceilings with natural wood beams. Tile and pale wood floors. Rustic, charming, and though it needed a few rugs and some decent furniture, it looked as though it had been made with a man’s handcrafted expertise—someone who had taken their time and used a keen eye for detail, from the carefully constructed stone fireplace to the cornice at the bottom of the staircase.
    She swiveled back around to find Wyatt staring at her.
    “The house is amazing, Wyatt. Can I see all of it?”
    “Why?”
    “Because if it’s anything like the family room, it takes my breath away.”
    Wyatt didn’t want Calliope to like the house. He didn’t want to show her the house. But dammit, something inside him made him push off the counter and start walking.
    She followed silently, murmuring her appreciation as they went.
    Somewhere along the way she’d shed her coat. She wore a sweater that clung to her body, outlining her spectacular breasts, and jeans that looked like they’d been painted on. He was going to try really hard not to notice that, though he supposed it was already too late.
    Concentrate on the house . She only wanted to see the house. Quick tour and she’d be out of there.
    Only it wasn’t a quick tour, because she’d pause occasionally to run her fingers along the wainscoting, an exposed beam or a doorknob—small touches he’d put some thought or effort into that Cassandra had never noticed.
    Never appreciated.
    Calliope noticed. Appreciated.
    Something inside him clenched as she paused at the stairs and inspected the way the wood wrapped around itself. It had taken him weeks to do that staircase. He’d wanted something elegant, yet sturdy, something beautiful that Cassandra would appreciate, yet stairs that would stand the test of time—and maybe a houseful of kids.
    Cassandra had blown right by the stairs and never said a word.
    “It’s like music,” Calliope whispered, her fingers a light caress over the wood. Her gaze met his, and her lips lifted. “It’s amazing, Wyatt. You must have spent months on this.”
    He didn’t know what to say, so he turned away and headed up, listening to the sound of her feet behind him.
    The master bedroom was the only place he’d spent any money on, furniture-wise, since by the time he’d finished the house he and Cassandra were already divorced. He’d bought a big bed since he was a big guy, a double thick mattress and he’d made the headboard and footboard himself, grinding out his anger and frustration by creating the scrolled patterns in the wood.
    Calliope leaned over and traced the pattern with her fingertips.
    “This is beautiful. And the bed is so big.” She turned to him and arched a brow. “For your harem of women?”
    “Funny.”
    She wandered into the bathroom and gasped. “Oh my God. I’m moving in tonight and living in your bathroom.”
    He couldn’t resist the smile as he entered the doorway and leaned against it.
    “A tub made for four people. With whirlpool jets. And that decadent shower—Wyatt, that’s just dirty and sexy. I want to get naked and get in there right now.”
    She was making his dick hard with that kind of talk and the corresponding visuals. He could already imagine her naked, the jets from all four showerheads spraying her, steam enveloping them both as he put his hands and his mouth all over her body…
    Yeah. That train of thought had to stop. He turned around and left the room and started some complex algebra so his hard-on would go away.
    He breathed in and out as he reached the top of the stairway.
    “I always wanted to live in a big house,” she said, grasping the railing in the sitting area at the top of the stairs. “I used to pretend I was a commoner—which I was, of course. That I was forced into servitude, but someday I’d meet