Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

I stopped at the Airstream for a shower after the inspector and Gideon left.

It felt like a fine layer of dust was stuck to every part of me. Didn't help that I'd sweated my ass off the whole visit. May was already a bitch with the heat. I couldn't imagine what the real summer would look like.

Luckily, Gideon had been professional, if a little cool. Rob, the inspector, had been very thorough. He'd checked things I'd never even imagined I'd have to worry about, which proved even more how over my head I was.

And I'd already started shuffling money around for the renovations because my bank account was going to be taking a hit. Houses—or mansions—were definitely built to last back in the 1800s. There was very little structurally that I needed to be concerned about.

But all the windows were going to be custom. And the stained glass I wanted would add another level of cost.

It would be worth it, but it wasn't going to be a quick endeavor.

Gideon wanted to go over the list of things that needed to be done first. The roof and windows were priority, as were the chimneys, which would need a good cleaning and realignment. I could still hear the cash register ca-ching noises in my head as I ducked under the spray in my little bathroom.

The small shower reminded me of the plumbing that would need to be checked over, as well.

My head pounded at the thought of all the work that needed to be done. I was eager to get to it, but it wasn't going to be as easy as I'd hoped.

No part of moving to Crescent Cove was easy.

Except for Macy. I knew it was going to take more work to get to know her once again, but that was one thing I could be thankful for.

At least the house would keep me busy for a while. I had that as an excuse when Maeve came looking for another sculpture. Not that there was a single idea in my head. It had been scarily devoid of ideas for a good long time now.

I shut the door on that line of thinking.

After I finished my shower, I flopped on my bed to dry off while the air conditioner chugged out a cool breeze over my skin. I grabbed my phone to see if Archer had tagged me back.

Instead, there was a message from Dahlia.

Dahlia:

My afternoon is light if you want to discuss the report. I'll be at the design studio.

I tossed my phone on the shelf behind my head. Going over there wasn't a good idea. I should probably make sure I was around other people when I spoke with her.

My dick stirred to life at the thought of her.

Which was exactly why I should steer clear. I'd slept for shit again. Flashes of her skin, the greedy clasp of her body, and the way she'd screamed my name had plagued my dreams all damn week. My big, scarred hands on her hips as I drove into her. As I flipped her over to take her from behind because I didn't want her to see how she affected me.

I didn't trust myself not to reach for her again.

Not that she would probably be susceptible to any advances on my part based on how we'd left it.

But for fuck's sake, arguing was practically foreplay as far as my dick was concerned.

I ignored the semi hard-on I was already sporting and rolled off the bed to tug on a pair of jeans. I'd been avoiding going to Trick or Treat since I'd come to town. It was hard to be around my sculptures. They were the last of the ones I'd made for myself before the accident.

For the pure love of it.

Lyric had it covered, and I didn't want to run a store, anyway. I'd only bought it to have a place to put my Halloween stamp on the town. I'd had all sorts of plans for how I could find a way to reconnect with my sister. Halloween and the spooky had always been our link.

But then it had gotten harder to get away from Los Angeles and London. Those two areas had been where I'd been hottest. I'd lost myself in the nightlife there. The money and being in demand had been too hard to resist. I'd let fame swallow me whole until there had been nothing but blurry nights and disconnected days.

Until the accident.

I grabbed my phone and slammed out of the Airstream and stalked to my truck. As if it would be so easy to leave the past behind. I directed my truck out to Lakeview Road. I shoved on my sunglasses against the glare of the sunlight off the water.

I flicked on my workout playlist and let the epic rock songs drown out the memories. Of my past, of Dahlia's skin, of the ripping pain that would never quite fade.

My store was on the outskirts of town. Just far enough that you had to search it out. The plot of land was far larger than what was needed for the actual candy store.

The welded metal letters soldered to the patinaed copper sign gave me a jolt. I'd avoided coming back here since I'd spent the three secretive weeks in the old hangar, creating the initial sculptures.

The macabre scarecrow with rusted scissors for hands that came out of the top of the building lured people in as much as it scared some away. It echoed the old movies and TV shows of my childhood. The campy Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger, movies like Children of the Corn with their creepy atmosphere, as well as Supernatural .

Even in the daylight, it made for a statement.

I'd had plans for the broken blacktop and the strip of patchy grass that used to be a small airstrip. Making it a place people would travel to for Halloween for an epic haunted maze.

All the things a man would do with adult money he had no business having.

But Lyric Bledsoe, the woman I'd hired to run the shop, had done well in my stead. Whenever she asked for money, I gave it without question. She'd improved the windows and the parking lot. Surprisingly, there were quite a few cars in the lot. She'd moved my Killer Clowns From Outer Space sculpture to the front door, which actually made me laugh.

Campy horror was a secret love of mine.

My sister had always given me a hard time about it when we were kids. That it was gore for gore's sake, not the actual story. But the first time I'd seen Army of Darkness , I'd been hooked and had sought out more ridiculous movies.

The candy store was a testament to over-the-top horror with enough camp to not scare the crap out of kids too much.

I parked on the side of the building and made my way inside. Two women were working the front and another guy in his twenties was on the floor restocking shelves.

Lyric came out from the back with her iPad in hand. Her dark hair was plated in a series of braids and she wore black on black with a half apron around her waist with the blood splatter and my logo that we'd designed together.

I stayed to the back of the store and took a look around at the candy dispensers with each metal sculpture peeking out of the tops. A twisted M&M character, a troll with Starburst candies bursting from his mouth, a gummy bear with a knife tinged with neon green.

I'd had such fun designing the store.

Making something that had nothing to do with a commission. Just my own imagination.

I'd been in a fugue state when I'd built it and worked around the clock for those three weeks. Knowing I had only so much time to myself had actually activated my brain instead of making it shut down like it usually did for the pieces I was paid for.

I grinned at the babydoll in overalls with bulging eyes.

"Cool, isn't it?"

I turned at the voice. The lanky guy stocking shelves grinned. His hair was overlong on top and shaved on the sides. His name tag said Jensen.

His eyes widened a little at my scars, but he locked it down quickly. I saw his fingers twitch at his side. "Helluva face, man."

I shoved my hands in my pockets. "Can't say I like it."

"You should. Interesting as f—uh, hell."

I arched my eyebrow at him.

The kid grinned. "Sorry. I do art. Interesting faces are way more...well, interesting to draw. Don't suppose?—"

"Not a chance."

He shrugged. "Worth a shot. Would be good for my portfolio. Anyway. Can I help you find something?"

"Nolan?" Lyric's voice came from behind Jensen. "Oh my God. Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Jensen turned. "You know this guy?"

"This guy owns this place, Jensen."

"Oh." His eyebrows shot up. "Oh, shit. I should have recognized you. We talked about you in my modern art class. Scar and the beard—you look way different."

Lyric gave a pained sigh. "Don't mind him. Jensen doesn't really have a filter."

"I prefer no filter." And the idea of someone talking about me in an art class made my gut clench.

Lyric nodded toward the front of the store. "C'mon back."

"I'm only stopping in for a minute. Just wanted to let you know I was in town."

She folded her arms over her iPad. "For how long?"

"For good."

Jensen gave me a salute. "I'll leave you guys to it. Cool sculptures, man. You made me want to try metal work. Turns out I'm better with spray paint and a pen."

"It's easier on the body."

Jensen gave a sharp laugh. "Nice one."

Lyric's eyes widened. "Since when did you have a sense of humor?" she asked when the guy disappeared around a display case.

"I have one."

"No, you don't."

I rolled my eyes. Macy and Dahlia must've been rubbing off on me. "I just wanted to check in on you."

"I send you my monthly reports. Which I'm pretty sure you don't open."

"What makes you say that?"

She cocked her hip. "Because I ask for a million Red Hots every month."

"I'd probably eat them. Speaking of, I could use a refill."

She sighed and pointed me in the direction of the wall on the other side of the room. "Retro candy is over here."

"Ouch."

"Does surprisingly well."

I grabbed a bag and filled it with the spicy candy, tossing a few in my mouth before using a twist tie to close it up. "I bought the old Barrows mansion on the lake."

"No. You did? How did I not hear about that?"

"Just did it. You don't need me in here to run things. You're doing just fine, but I wanted to let you know I was back in town. And I wanted to look around, make sure everything was good after the fire."

"You couldn't warn a girl?" She glanced around. "We're in serious restocking session from a field trip. Seniors were bored and descended."

"Sounds like a good problem to have. But honestly, it looks great in here. You don't need my input. I just wanted to make sure the place was still standing."

"If you actually looked at your email, you'd be aware of what was going on."

"Lyric, that was exactly why I hired you. I couldn't hold a regular job. What makes you think I can run this place?"

"Then why did you buy it?"

"I had my reasons. You're doing great."

"I have some expansion ideas."

I snorted. "Of course you do."

"I'm serious."

I was itchy to get out of the space. Having all my sculptures staring at me left me out of sorts. A different me had created them. One I wasn't sure would ever come back. Maybe he didn't deserve to.

"Tell you what. Schedule in a time where we can do a long lunch. I'll listen to what you have to say and we can make up a game plan."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. You've been running this place for years, Lyric. If you have ideas for some new expansions, I'm willing to listen. You've proven yourself."

"I..." She swallowed. "Thank you."

The fact that she was so taken aback told me I'd been woefully out of pocket when it came to support. Shocker. I was failing at every turn. "We'll talk."

"Okay. I'll be in touch."

I nodded and strode for the door.

"And Nolan?"

I turned back.

"Answer your damn phone when I call."

I grinned and left without a reply. I was willing to listen to her proposal, but that didn't mean I was miraculously going to answer my phone. But we'd figure it out.

I'd figure all of it out if it killed me.

I hopped into my truck and shoved my phone into the holder. A message was waiting for me.

Dahlia:

Jimmy's Pizza is sitting here on the conference table. I might save you a slice.

My stomach growled, just reading that. I didn't know if Jimmy's had good pizza or not. I had my doubts since I'd lived a good chunk of my life in New York City and Chicago. But it might fill the hole and saved me trying to figure out food.

You want to see her, jackass.

Might as well just own up to it.