Best kept secret | Spencer Reid

Cougar? Nice

A V E R I E ' S   P O V

"Averie?"

I stir at Spencer calling my name, gently shaking me awake. Groaning, I rub at my tired eyes before they flutter open.

I lift my head from Spencer's shoulder, noticing it's morning now and we're still in the car. "Did I sleep the whole way home?"

"You did," He nods, kissing my cheek. "You ready?"

Still half asleep, I unbuckle my seat belt and climb out of the car. Yawning, I stretch out my limbs and roll my shoulders.

Spencer rounds the car, leaning back against the car door and looking at me expectantly.

"What?"

He has that cute grin on his face, eyebrows raised and his arms crossed over his chest. "Notice anything?"

That's when I look around us, and realise we're not home. My brows crease when I look down the residential street, detached houses far back from the street, huge front yards separating them from the road.

"Where are we?"

Spencer pulls me into him by my hips, spinning me so my back settles into his chest. He dips his head and rests his cheek against mine, steering our focus to the house in front of us.

"Does that look familiar?" He murmurs.

And when my eyes settle on the pale midnight blue house with white trim and a red door, I'd recognise it anywhere from how much time I've spent looking at the listing.

My eyes widen, "Was today the open house?" With everything that happened last week, I forgot about it.

"Eh," He winces, scrubbing his hand across his jaw. "Something like that."

Before I get a chance to ask him what he means by that, I catch someone approaching us out of the corner of my eye.

I turn when he comes to a stop beside us, taking in his professional suit and tie outfit and the file in his hand. The realtor, I'm assuming.

"Spencer Reid?" The man asks. "We spoke on the phone?"

After some formal greetings with Mark, the man I've now confirmed is the realtor, he tilts his chin toward the house, "I'll show you guys around."

I try to hide how giddy I am as we follow him up the paved walkway to the front porch. I'm not one for cliches, but there's a literal white picket fence, and I love it.

While Mark unlocks the door, I squeeze Spencer's hand and let my eyes fall to the front yard. Huh. There's no open house sign, or anyone else here.

Before I can dwell on the thought too long, the front door opens and we step inside to an open plan entryway and living room.

The far wall has floor to ceiling built in bookshelves, and I can already imagine Spencer's collection filling it up.

I've only seen one room and I'm already in love. And whoever lives here has good taste because I can already see at least four or five things in here that I have pinned on my Pinterest.

The idea for a navy accent wall? Pinned. The sectional sofa? Pinned. The area rug? Pinned. The dark wooden side tables? Pinned.

My suspicion only grows the further Mark tours the house, guiding us into the open plan kitchen and dining room area.

"Is that the dining table I picked out?" I whisper.

Spencer shushes me, scolding me with his eyes to listen to Mark while he rambles on about the growth of this neighbourhood and good schools nearby.

We follow him upstairs next and straight into the first two bedrooms, both with attached bathrooms and walk in closets.