Chapter 11

ELEVEN

I woke to my cheek pressed to my drafting table in my bedroom. My back screamed as I straightened. "Gross," I muttered as I wiped drool off my sketch. "Great."

Gizmo jumped on my lap, his sweet face intent.

"Sorry, buddy." I gave him a long stroke. "I definitely missed your last meal." I scooped him up and tucked him up against my shoulder like a baby. "What are we thinking?"

Gizmo chirped in my ear.

"Is that for shrimp or chicken?" I asked as I padded into the living room toward my kitchen island.

He butted his head against my neck. "Let's try the chicken." I set him on the stool, and he watched me with his huge green eyes.

I'd been working on the drawings for the last four days—through the whole weekend and around every other job I had. My eyes were so dry, I was going to have to stop and get another bottle of eyedrops. I'd poured over the archives in the Crescent Cove library, finding photos of the house when it had originally been built.

The blueprints were available and had given me a good starting point. Materials were also better at this point, so I had more options for glass and the arches now. Thanks to 3D printing and molds, I could lean into the Gothic architecture.

I set down Gizmo's bowl and he sniffed it contemplatively before giving me a long look, then he ate with gusto.

Chicken won the fight tonight. Probably because I'd been late for second dinner.

My own stomach grumbled since I'd ignored it, as well. My own food supply was sorely lacking. The kitchen was almost back to normal after Davis had come in and cleaned out the water damage. Luckily, the needed replacements had only been a few slats of the hardwood and a bit of baseboard on the tile part of the kitchen floors. There was a plywood patch for now and everything else had been just a matter of using the wet vac to clear out the water.

Didn't stop me from putting a half a dozen of those dehydrating jars around to kill the damp smell.

Gizmo wasn't psyched about getting locked in my bedroom while I was at work, but it was better than another call to maintenance. I was also running out of time to find a new home for him.

Maybe I could convince the girls to let me make him a mascot at the design studio.

Then again, I'd worry about him escaping, so that probably wouldn't work. I sighed and stroked a hand down his sleek back. "What am I going to do with you, buddy?"

I opened the fridge for the second time and found the shelves were in the same empty state. I grabbed the lone yogurt on the second shelf and checked the date with one eye open. Two days past—good enough. I took a spoon out of my drawer and wandered out into my small living room.

Gizmo trotted after me, probably hoping to get a taste or two.

I checked my phone and found a few missed texts from Avery and TJ about an on-site job we had tomorrow. We were doing a basement finish and outdoor landscaping on a new build in Crescent Gardens. Shelby was working on another project in Turnbull, so we were a little light on staff.

I answered the questions and then flipped the television on to distract myself but couldn't concentrate on the canned laugh track of the old sitcom and just ended up switching it off again.Impulsively, I glanced at my phone and saw I might be able to get a meal at Lonegan's before the kitchen closed. It wouldn't be anything other than pub grub, but it sounded a helluva lot better than the Pop Tart I had left in my pantry.

Quickly, I swapped my lounge clothes for jeans and a tank against the heat that was simmering again. May was coming in hot and that didn't bode well for the actual summer that wasn't even here yet. I hit the stairs instead of waiting on the elevator and was out the lobby doors less than five minutes later.

The bar across the street from my building was doing a brisk business, as usual.

I gasped against the humid air and double-timed it across the four lane Kensington Boulevard. I waved to Colder Banks, one of my neighbors, who was behind the bar tonight. Pretty soon, he'd be overseeing the new speakeasy Velvet Noir, and we'd definitely miss him in our neighborhood bar.

"Bar or want a table, Dahl?"

I glanced around at the full tables and the equally packed bar. Then my gaze bounced back to one of the corner booths where a person with a very recognizable head of dark hair was seated. "I see someone I know."

"I'll have Cordelia bring you a menu."

"Just a loaded cheeseburger and all the fries. Like all of them."

Colder laughed. His stupidly handsome face took a girl's breath. One of my other neighbor's, Naomi Taylor, had snatched him right off the market. "You got it. Full basket of fries."

"Oh, and that dipping sauce stuff."

"On it."

"You're the best." I thrummed my fingers on the bar. "Can I get a Firefly?"

"You're nice and easy tonight." He poured a pint of Firefly hard cider and slid it across to me. I started digging into my pocket and he waved me off. "I'll add it to your dinner tab."

"Now who's making it easy?" I lifted it for a sip and hummed. "Thanks, Colder."

He gave me a little salute and went back to the next customer.

I wound my way through the tables and waved to a few people I knew from trivia night. Between the trivia games at The Heights and Lonegan's, I got a fair bit of non-work camaraderie out of my system. I'd missed it with my current obsession, that was the Barrows Mansion.

Speaking of obsessions…

I set my glass on the table and slid in the booth across from Nolan. "Hello."

He sighed. "What are you doing here?"

"I actually live across the street. You're in my territory again." I folded my hands around my sweating glass. "What brings you out of the Cove?"

"Seven o'clock."

I snorted. "That's sadly true. Unless of course you want one of Mitch's superior BLT's or pancakes at the diner."

He grunted and hunched over his plate—which was also a cheeseburger with an equally sweating glass of golden liquid. Guess we'd had the same idea.

"So, with or without the migraines, you stay in the grumpy mode."

"I was having a very nice dinner all by myself."

"Were you though?"

He relaxed against the wooden backing of the booth and took a sip of his...beer? He looked like a beer guy.

Two could play that game. I took a sip of my hard cider and stared at him. He wore a faded black T-shirt that was headed for charcoal, as well as another pair of those insanely dark jeans. New jeans. Which didn't exactly fit his personality, especially with the stretched out and beat-up T-shirt.

I wasn't sure why everything about him was fascinating to me, but it was.

He shook his hair out of his face and my breath caught, his nostrils flaring with annoyance. Even without the scar, he was more rugged than handsome. His facial hair had doubled since the last time I'd seen him. His scruff filled in slightly around his puckered flesh, but there was no denying the ravaging of his face.

And yet, it made him even more arresting.

"If you think you can growl me into looking away, think again. I went to art school, and there's no one more horrifying than a critique group."

His eyebrow spiked.

I grinned. "Oops, did I say horrifying?"

Cordelia, the usual waitress during the evenings, came by the table with a plate full of dips and burger fixings and another basket full to the brim of fries and onion rings. She set the plate in front of me and the basket in the middle of the table. "Colder said you guys might want the onion rings too."

I sat up and rubbed my hands together. "We do."

Nolan seethed and I just kept smiling. "Thanks, Cordelia."

The waitress glanced at Nolan with a gulp then stole a quick look at me. "Sure. Need anything else?"

"Nope. We're great. Unless you want another...beer?"

Nolan glanced up at Cordelia, making sure to shake his hair forward again. "Another IPA would be great, thanks."

"You got it." Cordelia left with the quickness.

I wasn't sure if it was the scar or the overall grumpy aura Nolan gave off that put Cordelia on edge. I suspected I was a bit on the twisted end. I enjoyed the fact that he didn't try to hide his moods. It was refreshing, especially since I was used to dealing with realtors all damn day. No one could be that freaking happy all the time. I reached over for a fry and dunked it in my favorite dip. "Have some."

"I'm good."

"Suit yourself." He kept glancing at the basket and tapping a finger on the table.

"C'mon. Those onion rings are good. Callahan adds something to the batter. Makes them extra spicy."

He sighed and took one, then he leaned over to my dipping sauces and gave me a flat stare before scooping out a bunch of my favorite dipping sauce.

I snickered. "Think you're going to piss me off, you'll have to try harder." I added tomato and a slice of the red onion on my burger and loaded it up with ketchup before I cut it in half. I met his gaze as I took a big bite. When the ketchup dripped all over my hand, I whined.

He picked up a napkin and handed it to me.

"I'll just get messy in the next bite," I said after I finished chewing. "So, what have you been destroying at the house while I've been putting together your proposal?"

He set the napkin by my plate and took another onion ring. He dipped it in my excess ketchup on my plate without a qualm. It was more intimate than I'd been expecting.

Like a couple eating together.

He popped the onion ring in my mouth. "I just got back into town. Had to deal with some stuff."

I leaned over my plate. My cute red tank wouldn't look good dotted with grease. "What kind of stuff?" I shoved the onion back into the bun and took another bite.

He shook his head, but I was pretty sure the lips half hidden by his beard were twitching. "Nunya."

I wrinkled my nose at him. "Just trying to be friendly."

"Friendly would be you leaving me alone."

"Nah. That's no fun." I grabbed an onion ring of my own and pulled it apart to let some of the heat out before it burned my mouth. I dunked it in another one of the dips and coughed at the horseradish kick.

"Can't handle the heat?"

I grabbed my napkin and lifted my voice over the people conversing around us. "I can handle plenty of heat, pal. I just wasn't expecting it."

"Need a baby wipe?"

"Wrong town to find that in a purse." I flagged down Cordelia with wiggling fingers.

She hustled over with wet wipes, which we all used on wing nights, as well as his IPA. "I got you, girl."

"Thanks. Can we have more of the bonfire sauce too?"

"Got it." She set the glass down beside Nolan. "Anything for you?"

"I'll take some of that bonfire sauce too," he said, giving her a tight smile that looked very wrong on his face.

"Sure thing."

After Cordelia left and I cleaned up, I took a long drink of my cider to wash away the burning tickle. "So, where did you live before here?"

"You didn't Google me?"

That had been the first thing I wanted to do, but something kept me from researching into his life. Something inside me wanted it to come from him, which made me the bigger idiot, probably. His idea of sharing was offering ketchup, not words. "Nope."

Slowly, he chewed, his gaze never wavering.

I shrugged and went back to my burger. If he didn't want to talk, I could handle that.I noticed many a gaze swinging our way. Nolan was an imposing man, and he took up space. His presence was a special kind of interesting to me. He seemed to want to blend into the background, but he naturally drew attention. As if he was used to being the center.

And he'd assumed I would Google him, clearly implying there was something to find.

By the time my burger was gone, and Cordelia had refilled our drinks, we were companionably munching our way through the basket of fries and rings. It was a Tuesday and the tables started to thin out while the bar itself remained hopping.

"You're an interesting chick."

I paused with the fry in front of my mouth. "Thanks?"

"I didn't know you knew how to shut up."

"You keep thinking you can insult me into leaving you be, but I'm not that woman." I brushed my fingers over my plate and peeled open another wet wipe to clean my hands. "I'm just about done with the proposal."

"You're actually working on that?"

"I wasn't kidding when I said I love that house. Are you done with what you had to do out of town?"

"For now."

"Want to come see what I have so far? My place is across the street."

His eyebrow spiked. "Did you actually just ask me back to your apartment to see your drawings?"

"I think I did." Impulsive wasn't usually my bag when it came to showing my plans, but something told me to grab him while I had him.

"You know, I'm a stranger for all intents and purposes."

"You are. But you're also related to Macy. If you did anything to me she'd?—"

"Tie me to a rock and toss me in the lake?"

"That was oddly specific, but probably about right if the rock was a very large boulder that would keep you down."

He grunted. "I should get back to the house."

"You and the Airstream have a date? C'mon. I'm sure you've been sitting in that tin can for way too long."

"It's a six-figure trailer, Hellcat."

I whistled. "Dang. Really?" I stood up and patted my pocket for my credit card. "Think you got ripped off. I'll go close out our bill."

He shot a look at me. "You don't?—"

"I got it." What was another charge on my poor credit card? "Meet me at the door." I left him at the table, my stomach flipping at having him come back to my place with me. What the hell was I thinking?

It took a minute to get Colder's attention to cash out.

"Everything good?"

"Very. Thanks for the extra big order."

"Who's your friend?"

"Hopefully, a new client." I glanced over at the table and then cut a look over my shoulder, but he was gone. I sighed. "Maybe a new client."

"All good?" He frowned at me. "Do I need to walk you out?"

"No. Honestly, I'm good." Disappointment hit harder than I expected. The idea of him seeing my preliminaries and maybe giving me some input, perhaps even at the idea of more time with him—both had me more twisted than I wanted to admit.

Maybe it was best that he'd left.

I could get the girls' input first, then I'd go over to his damn mansion and blow his socks off.

I scribbled my signature on the bill and stuffed my credit card in my back pocket. "Thanks, Colder."

He glanced toward the door then looked back at me. "Sure you don't want me to send out Cordie or something?"

"No, he's not a bad guy. Just an asshole."

"And you want his business?"

"I want his house."

Colder laughed. "Whatever works for you, Dahlia."

I waved as I headed for the door. It was true. I wanted that house, but I couldn't deny the pull of the man, either. I wasn't quite sure what to do with that part.

I pushed the door open, and my breath stalled. He was standing on the sidewalk with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched slightly as he stared across the street at my building. The warm breeze blew his long hair around his shoulders and that strong jawline made my chest tighten.

He hadn't left.