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CARSON
Part of me is surprised she went for it. The whole idea is kind of ridiculous. I mean, I trespassed on her property and now she’s letting me work for her?
I gather my duffel bag from the floor and smile at the hole. I’m grateful for that hole. Without it, she might have pepper sprayed me and called the police. Kind of sad I have to patch it up.
On the other hand, she’s getting a damn good deal. Yeah, I’m getting a place to live and some weekly spending money—even a percentage of what the place sells for—but she’s going to get a bundle once we finish.
And I’ll be able to rub it in Kyle’s face. I’ll have this project in my portfolio. I’d be able to start a website and get my own business up and running.
In the meantime, I get to be in the thick of it. Getting my hands dirty. Collaborating on a project I wanted since I first saw this place.
A win/win.
I hike up the stairs to the second floor. There are a few rooms that are mostly habitable, and it sounds like Libby has taken the one closest to the bathroom. I drop my duffel in the room across the hall and then wander to her doorway.
She’s spreading a sleeping bag on the ground, fluffing it up just so. Then she adds a pillow and sets a book next to it, along with a flashlight and a phone charger.
“Look at you getting all domestic,” I say.
She glances up and then laughs. “I wish. I’d love a bed. And a hot shower. And a glass of wine—or champagne. And, of course, a chair to sit in when I drink that champagne. But one thing at a time.”
“I can’t do much about the first, but I think I can handle the rest.”
“Really?”
I beckon her with my hand and walk out of the room.
“Wait. Carson—”
When she comes around the corner, she nearly runs into me. Her breath rushes out. “Sorry,” she says.
“I’m not.”
She rolls her eyes, but I swear her cheeks flush. Damn, she’s cute when she’s flustered.
“What?” I say. “You above a little healthy flirting?”
“With you? Absolutely. I know your type.”
“Is that so?”
“You could charm the pants off a nun to get what you want.”
I laugh out loud. “I don’t think nuns wear pants.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t.”
She lifts her hands. “Were you going to show me something?”
I turn to the bathroom, though what I really want is for her to explain her comment. I have a type? What? Does she think I’m a player? Okay, yeah, I used to be. And yeah, I know the dimple is charming—or at least, I’ve heard that from women before. But that doesn’t mean I screw women over.
No, that’s what my ex-girlfriend did, and I’m not about that.
I open the shower door and turn the water on. The pipes moan and groan and it takes a few seconds but then the water runs clear and begins heating up.
“They turned the water on,” she says, eyeing it dreamily.
“I’ll even kill that spider for you before you get it.” I laugh when her hand grasps my arm. “Just kidding. No spider.”
She smacks my shoulder. “Ass.”
I laugh and head out of the bathroom. “Get your shower and then get your ass down here for part two.”
“What’s part two?” she hollers after me.
“Celebrating.”
By the time she’s out, I’ve changed and washed my hands. I could use a shower myself, but I’ll grab one after we get back. I need a beer first, and I know Libby wants champagne. Today, we both got something we wanted and there’s no reason not to enjoy the night before we get to work tomorrow.
I already have a plan on where to start. And if Libby can hold her own, I’ve got half a dozen jobs for her. And if not, I’ll send her out for supplies. Or a few pieces of furniture so we can live like halfway civilized people.
I hear her footsteps on the stairs before I see her. But when she comes into view, I can’t look away. It’s a skirt this time, something that swishes above her knees and shows off her sexy legs. And hell, that shirt. Low-cut enough to make me uncomfortable below the belt, but modest enough I’m left to imagine a lot. Which manages to make me even hotter.
I clear my throat and stop staring. “Let’s grab some better bandages while we’re out. For your leg.”
“While we’re out?”
I nod. “Let’s walk. I like to look at the houses as I go.”
She smiles when we reach the door. “I like to do the same thing.”
Damn. When she does that—just a simple smile—it reminds me of the better times with Denise. Or other girlfriends. The beginning. The good stuff when it’s not a relationship, it’s just the attraction. The thrill of learning about someone new. The moment-to-moment experience.
I miss that. Already. Sad to say, Denise and I weren’t close there at the end. I figured we’d break up soon because she was getting distant. Little had I known it was because she was getting more than friendly with Kyle.
“I need a beer,” I say, turning down the sidewalk.
“Yeah? You regretting your decision already? Need to get drunk to forget about it?” she asks.
“No regrets here. Just need to forget about other things.”
“Or other people?”
I glance over, then nod. “Yeah. Other people.”
“Well, then, tell me about the houses while we walk.”
So I do. I explain the historical features of a few houses, and some I think she’ll want to duplicate on her own. Then I tell her where I think we should start with her house so it’ll get done the quickest, and make living there easier on both of us.
By the time I tick off a whole list of tweaks we can make to the kitchen, we’ve reached Main Street. My stomach grumbles.
“They have this great sandwich place over here. We can get subs. And the liquor store is next door for our drinks. We can have them back at the house in forty-five minutes and start celebrating.”
“Let’s make a half-hour,” she says with a grin. “I’ll get the drinks, you get the sandwiches.”
We split on the sidewalk, but I don’t go inside. Not yet. Instead, I watch her walk to the liquor store, hips swaying, her hair moving in the breeze.
And suddenly, it hits me that I might have made the biggest mistake I’ve made in a long time.
Libby is hot. And I just agreed to work with her for the next five months. How the hell am I going to make it a week, let alone five months?
Hard work. Focus.
Or…I smile as she vanishes inside the store…
I can just relax and let whatever happens happen.