His house, a rambling single-level structure with lots of native stone and adobe, sat off the beaten path outside the settled area in the foothills. From the front, it presented like a family home, cozy in a Wild West sort of way. What looked like a small barn was behind and to the left of the house.
“Wow, this is really nice,” I said, stepping out of the monster truck into the garage.
He had a midsized SUV parked next to the truck and some sort of motorcycle in front of the two vehicles. On the outside the house appeared peaceful and idyllic, only the wind rustling through the olive trees to break the silence.
“Yeah, well, welcome to my castle,” he quipped. Why he was nervous was beyond me. “I didn’t decorate it.”
“Oh, so there’s more than brown on brown in there, right?”
He glared a
