“All right. How can I help?”
“Is there a way, using home ownership records, for me to type in the name of a person who lives in a certain town, and discover which house is theirs?” She winced. The question sounded ripe with unpleasant, potentially illegal motivations. Perhaps the opening pleasantries had been wasted on this conversation.
“Are you thinking about investing in real estate?” the agent asked. “Oftentimes investors will want to access to the names so they can send notes to owners, letting them know they’re interested in buying their home.”
“No, I’m not interested in investing in real estate at this time. Maybe someday.”
A few confused seconds of silence passed.
“You can access a seller’s name on MLS,” the older woman said, “which is used by real estate agents.”
“And if the property is not for sale?”
“Some appraisal districts have websites. In that case, you’d go to the appraisal district’s site and search for a property by owner name.”
“Excellent! Thanks so much.”
Within seconds, they disconnected.
Leah hunted the web until she found appraisal district sites for the counties nearest the house where Trina and Jonathan had lived at the time of her birth. Fulton County. Gwinnett. Forsyth. DeKalb. Cobb. And finally, Cherokee. Each time, she ran a property search by owner’s name.
Each time, she found no properties.
Chewing on her bottom lip, she peered through the windows at the comfortingly familiar curves and dips of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
On a fresh wave of inspiration, she swiveled back to the screen. She found an appraisal district database for her own county, Rabun, and input the name Sebastian Grant.
This time fortune smiled upon her.
He owned property at 1248 Black Cherry Lane.
What an excellent house number. 1, 2, 4, 8. Each subsequent number doubled the one that came before. Very promising.
Tomorrow was Saturday, and he often spent his weekends in Misty River. She’d already been planning to go walking tomorrow for exercise. So instead of a hiking trail, why not amend her plans?
She’d walk past his house instead.
The next day she parked a mile away from Sebastian’s address and set out on the three-mile loop she’d charted. Striding at her fastest clip, she started in a neighborhood of half-acre lots. Gradually, the lots grew bigger. Then bigger, until nature surrounded her on both sides. The road plateaued before climbing steeply.
Whenever she had her backpack with her, she kept her phone inside. For quicker, less remote walks like this one, she carried her phone and car key in a band strapped to her upper arm. After a time, her phone’s male Irish voice spoke from that arm band, notifying her that 1248 was coming up on the right.
Male Irish voice was rarely wrong. Which was one of the things she valued about him. She reached over and turned off the GPS.
At first, Sebastian’s house played hide-and-seek between the trees. Leah continued forward until a luxurious modern-day cabin slid into view. Dark wood siding. Stone chimneys. A short central hallway connected the two main wings, the narrow front sides of which faced forward. The wings were of equal width and both had identical obtuse rooflines. However, the one on the left was one story. The one on the right, two stories. Porches spread forward from the bases of the wings, and a balcony jutted from the second-story sliding glass doors.
Manicured grass and planting beds curved between stands of pines. No driveway to be seen, so that must wrap around from a different point to the rear of the building.
It was a fantastic house.
Unfortunately, though, for her purposes, it sat dark and empty.
However, when she walked by his house again, one week later . . .
He was home.
CHAPTER NINE
Even before Leah arrived at Sebastian’s house for the second time, she could see through the foliage that some of his interior lights were illuminated.
Anticipation floated upward within her.
Glass covered much of the front of his house, so chances were good that she’d be able to see him inside as she passed. If so, she planned to knock, explain that she’d been walking by, noticed him, and wanted to say hello.
And he likely wouldn’t mind the intrusion because they were friends. . . . Or friendly, at least.
When she reached the edge of his property, she saw him standing on his lawn, attempting to start a push lawnmower.
“Sometimes I amaze . . . even . . . myself.” The Han Solo quote stumbled like a drunk person through her head.
Sebastian was just yards away. Wearing basketball shorts. And no shirt.
Leah resettled her attention respectfully forward. She hadn’t prepared a plan for this particular scenario! She wasn’t experienced at carrying on conversations with shirtless men.
He didn’t have the self-indulgent, puffed-up body of someone who lifted heavy weights at the gym. Nonetheless, he clearly did spend time exercising. His frame was imposing. His chest and abdomen, firm and smooth.
“Leah?”
At the sound of his voice, she turned, her motion halting.
He’d straightened to his full height, his face a portrait of surprise.
“Oh! Hello.” She approached him.
The dark stubble on his cheeks informed her that he hadn’t shaved this morning. Hurriedly, she worked to absorb the remaining details of his appearance. . . . The piercing pale gray of his eyes. The blunt nose and determined lips. The weathered plane of his forehead. The vertical furrow between his brows. He looked like a man who’d been to war and lived to tell the tale.
“Dr. Grant.”
“Professor Montgomery.”
“Nice to see you again.”
“Nice to see you again, too.”
“You told me once that you like to mow your lawn.”
“And you told me once that you like hiking.”
“I guess neither of us was lying.”
He smiled. “What brings you to this part of town?”
“I get bored walking my neighborhood, so I frequently drive to areas of town I haven’t yet explored and walk other people’s neighborhoods,” she lied.
“You’re not carrying a purse.” His attention flicked down to her tennis shoes and back up. “So where’s your graphing calculator?”
She laughed. “I’m heartened to inform you that I actually can accomplish quite a bit of math in my head, so I keep my calculator near me most of the time but am not obliged to keep it with me all of the time.”
“You’re not afraid you might encounter a math problem you can’t solve in your head while out walking?”
“If I do encounter that type of problem while out walking, I’m confident that I’ll be able to remember it well enough to input it into my calculator at the first available opportunity.”
“Very brave.”
And there it was, that living, crackling, thrilling allure. And not because of his shirtlessness. Because of him. His quickness and understated humor. And also them. Their alchemy.
Very, very intriguing.
It was glorious to banter with him again. In fact, talking to him gave her the same feeling she’d experienced when she’d returned to Misty River from New England—the delight of coming home.