“This is empty too, but only for about a month, so there shouldn’t be extensive damage inside.”
“Let’s have a look.”
He unlocks the door and when I walk in, I stop in my tracks and cover my mouth and nose with my hand. “I think you were wrong, Pete.”
“Holy shit,” he mutters. “This just went on the market yesterday, and it’s obviously not been cleaned.”
“They’ll have to tear it down,” I reply, stupefied by the sight before me. There is a hole—a hole—in the ceiling, all the way through to the second floor, and a bed, the object that obviously caused the hole, is in the middle of the living room. There is garbage everywhere, and it smells like a sewer.
“Do you want to see the rest?” he asks.
“Is it safe?” I turn wide eyes to him and then shrug. “Meh, I’m always up for an adventure, and I’ve never seen anything like this.”
We move carefully through the living room, stepping over garbage and God knows what, to the kitchen, where I have to will myself not to throw up.
The fridge is standing wide open, and no one bothered to empty the contents, so rotten food permeates the room.
“They tore off all of the cabinet doors,” I say in surprise. “And how in the bloody hell did they manage to crack this granite?”
“I have no idea,” he says, obviously as taken aback as I am. “I’ll call the other realtor as soon as we leave and tell him that he needs to take care of this before he shows it again.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I reply in awe and open the French doors leading out to a back yard with a pool. “Pete?”
“Yeah?” he says from inside.
“You’ll want to see this.”
He comes out behind me and gasps. “Callie, there’s a car in the pool.”
“Yep.”
“I’ve officially seen it all.”
I giggle and shake my head, my eyes surveying the back yard. “I wonder where that toilet is supposed to go?”
“I’m assuming that the rose garden isn’t the right answer,” he says and leads me back inside and upstairs, where we find the home of the toilet now living with the roses, along with a dead squirrel. “Someone had a campfire going in here.” I follow Pete into one of the bedrooms and stare at the perfect circle of rocks and burned wood in the center of the room. “They left the sticks they used to roast marshmallows.”
“Or, you know, body parts, because this place has the vibe of a serial killer’s house.” I laugh, but I’m not really kidding.
This place gives me a serious case of the willies.
By the time we reach the master bedroom, I can’t take any more. “Are those shackles on the wall?” I ask quietly, on the verge of tears. This isn’t fun anymore. It’s scary.
“They are.”
“I think you should call the police before you call the realtor.” There’s another toilet, just sitting against the wall, not actually hooked up to anything. The carpet was ripped out, exposing just the sub-floor. There is no hardwood.
“Let’s go.” He wraps an arm around me and leads me down and out of the house and to my car, but I’m not ready to drive. We both stand outside as Pete dials the cops and tells them what we discovered, then calls the other realtor and gives him the same report, along with a tongue lashing for not inspecting the property before listing it.
When he hangs up, my nerves have calmed enough for me to drive, but we’re quiet on the way back to Pete’s office.
“I’m so sorry about that,” he says softly and wipes his hand over his mouth. “That’s not only unprofessional, but so disturbing. I never would have taken you there if I’d known, Cal.”
“I know.” I nod and then shiver when I think of those shackles on the wall. “I wonder what happened there?”
“It’s probably best if you don’t think about it.”
“Right.” I pull up to his office and turn to face him. “Thanks for your time today, Pete.”
“Anytime. We’ve just started looking. We’ll find you something.”
“I know.”
“Can I take you to dinner sometime?”
The question is blurted out and I have to blink at him for several seconds, trying to catch up. “Dinner?”
“I’d really like to take you out, Callie.”
“Well, I—” All I can think is, you have three kids, and I’m so not ready to date a guy who comes as a boxed set.
“Just dinner.” He holds his hands up as if he’s surrendering. “We’ll just catch up a bit. No pressure.”
Well, it is nice to see an old friend, and really, what could a simple dinner hurt?
“Okay. Sure.”
“Great.” He grins and opens his door. “I’ll call you tonight and we’ll make plans.”
“Talk to you later.” I wave and smile, then pull away and shake my head. This has been the weirdest day I’ve had in a very long time.
Chapter Five
~Callie~
“He’s sure here a lot over the past few weeks,” Adam says as he pours a beer next to me. “Even on his days off.”
I simply shrug and finish cutting a lime, then grab another. It’s been two weeks since my night with Declan, and in that time, he’s shown up before closing to walk me to my car almost every night. We’ve slipped into an easy camaraderie with each other, and rather than wait outside to scare the shit out of me, he just comes inside to wait.
And the fact that my pulse speeds up and an army of butterflies takes up residence in my belly when I see him is irrelevant.
“He’s just walking me to my car,” I reply and lift my gaze to survey the bar., Sure enough, Declan just walked in and is sitting at a table on the other side of the room. He’s in his usual dark, plain T-shirt and jeans, showing off a bit of ink on his arm. He pushes his hair off his forehead, and I have to swallow hard. I know how it feels to have his fingers in my hair, and it feels damn good.
“Why?” Adam asks.
“Why what?”
“Well, two whys, actually. Why does he walk you to your car, and why are you looking at him like he’s a plate full of hot wings?”
“Awww, you remember my favorite food.” I pat Adam’s shoulder and move on to stocking napkins. The place is almost empty, and closing time is almost here.
Thank God.
I like my place, but I’m ready to get off my feet.
“Answer the questions.”
“Well, I’m assuming he’s walking me to my car because the Quarter is dangerous at night and you usually go home with some unsuspecting victim at closing time. And two, I wasn’t looking at him like he’s delicious, but now I want wings, thank you very much.”
“So you’re not seeing each other?”
“We’re friends,” I reply, making sure Adam knows that the subject is closed.
I didn’t lie. Declan has been nothing but a complete gentleman in the past few weeks, just chatting with me about our days as he walks me to my car.
The fact that I keep parking just a little farther away each day is something that I’ll deny until I take my last breath.
I walk around the bar to where Declan’s sitting.
“Hey, friend, can I get you anything?” I smile, but I’m cringing on the inside. Friend. Even though it’s true, why does it feel wrong?
“I’m fine.” He shakes his head and offers me a smile, but his eyes look tired. “I’ll just wait here.”
“I can bring you a water if you like,” I offer, but he simply shakes his head again, so I nudge his shoulder with mine playfully. “Hey, you okay?”
“Of course.” He nods again, so I return to the bar and help Adam with the last of the clean up and shoo out the few remaining patrons.
Finally, I slip into the back office to grab my handbag and check my hair in the mirror, then join Declan. “I’m ready.”
He waits for me to lock the door, and then we set off down the sidewalk.
“How was your day?” I ask, as I alway
s do.
“I can’t complain,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate. Silence falls between us, and I frown up at him, confused. Something’s wrong.
“Well, my day was just dandy, thanks for asking.” He smirks, but still won’t look me in the eye. “I had to have a plumber come in to look at a toilet in the men’s room because some idiot tried to flush his pants last night. My wine order didn’t come in; it was routed to freaking Delaware for some reason that only God knows.”
“Sounds like a busy day,” Declan says. I don’t know what else to say, so we walk a couple blocks in silence. It’s getting cooler at night now, thankfully giving us a break from the blistering heat of summer. There’s a breeze blowing through the trees. Any other night, I would say that it was lovely.
If I said words like lovely.
But tonight I’m just irritated. Finally, I pull Declan to a stop, grip his arm, and turn him toward me so I can look him in the eye. “Fuck this. Spill it. What in the hell is eating at you?”
“I’m fine,” he repeats, but I shake my head vigorously no.
“No, you’re not. You’re sad or angry or something. If you don’t want to walk me to my car, it’s okay. It won’t hurt my feelings if you tell me you don’t want to do it anymore.”
Except it might hurt my feelings a little.
“It’s not that at all. I’m usually working near here anyway, so this isn’t out of my way.” He sighs and wipes his hand down his handsome face, and then he pins me in that whiskey-gold gaze of his. “Okay, I’ve been wanting to ask you to come to the house and give me some help. I want to spend the day with you tomorrow, if you’re up for it.”
“Okay.” I frown up at him, completely confused. “Why does that make you mad?”
“Because I’m fucking nervous as hell, and I don’t get nervous, Callie.” He chuckles and paces away two steps and then back again. “Because I don’t know how you’ll take it when I ask, and I really just want to enjoy your company in my house tomorrow. That simple.”
“Sounds good,” I reply with a smile. “Is ten in the morning okay? Given how late it is now, I’d like to get a little sleep.”
“That works,” he replies and sighs, and then breaks out into a laugh. “That was way easier than I thought it was going to be. I thought I’d have to really do some fast talking.”
“I’ve wanted to get my hands on your house since I first saw it,” I remind him. I’ve wanted to get my hands on you since I first saw you too.
Damn Declan for being so damn hot.
“Well, there are two rooms that I don’t know what to do with, and I figure you’ll have some ideas.” He opens my door as we approach my car, and I lower myself inside before I do something stupid like lean in and kiss him.
We’re friends.
“I’ll come up with something awesome,” I assure him. “See you tomorrow morning.”
***
Declan opens the door at exactly ten o’clock sharp and my mouth goes dry. Why, for the love of the baby Jesus, is he shirtless?
“Are you early?” he asks, eyeing the coffees in my hands and the bag full of bagels and cream cheese. “And is that food?”
“No and yes,” I reply and shove past him before I start to drool. “I’m right on time. And this is breakfast.” He follows me into the kitchen and reaches out to help me, but I wave him away. “Shouldn’t you go put a shirt on?”
Please, God, go put a fucking shirt on.
“You don’t like me like this?” he asks with a teasing smile. When I simply stare at him, he shrugs. “Fine. I’ll be right back.”
As he jogs up the stairs, two at a time, I divvy up the bagels and coffees, and lean against the island counter as I nibble my plain bagel with jalapeño cream cheese and give myself a pep talk to forget Declan’s almost nakedness.
He’s a friend. Just a friend. You’ve seen him shirtless before. Get over it.
“It smells great,” he says as he rejoins me, in a flannel button-down this time, and digs in to his bagel. “Sorry, I overslept.”
“It’s okay.” I can’t help but watch his jaw work as he chews, the muscles flexing in his neck, and I wish with all my heart that I’d worn underwear.
So much for that pep talk.
“So, what rooms do you want to work on?” I ask to distract myself.
“I’ll show you,” he replies as we both finish our food. We grab our coffees and walk into a series of small, awkward rooms on the first floor. They’ve been closed up, so they smell a little musty. There’s carpet—yellow shag—that needs to come up. “I have no idea what to do with these three rooms.”
“What’s on the other side of this wall?” I ask, turning a circle.
“The kitchen.”
I turn my back to the wall facing the kitchen and survey the windows to the back and side yards. “These were probably butlers' quarters back in the day,” I mutter and chew my lip as I think. “Do you have much of a pantry in the kitchen?”
“Just a small closet,” he replies.
“Okay, here’s what I would do. I would take this third room and wall it up, put in a door with access from the kitchen and make it a nice, big pantry. Then I’d open these other two rooms up to each other and the kitchen, making this long wall a half-wall of windows. Then—” I turn around and point at the windows. “—I would make these windows much larger, turning this space into a sun room.” I can even picture how I would decorate it in my head, and oh my God, it’s so pretty.
“That’s a lot of work,” Declan replies, rubbing his chin in thought.
“It’s mostly demo,” I reply. “We’ll have two walls to take out, but it’ll open the space up and make the whole floor feel really open.”
“Okay,” he says and claps his hands together. “Let’s do it.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
“Don’t you have a contractor?” I ask and prop my hands on my hips.
“I do, yes, but we can do the demo ourselves. This carpet has to go too.”
“Without a doubt,” I agree and cringe at what could be living in this carpet. “I’m betting there’s original hardwood under here.”
“There was in the other rooms that I’ve already done.” He nods, still looking around. “This is a great idea. I have a couple of sledgehammers. In the mood to knock down a couple walls?”
“Hell yes I am! Demo is my favorite part of the job.”
“Helps you release some built-up aggression?”
“That, and it’s just a great workout.” I pull a box cutter out of my back pocket as Declan leaves to find the hammers and crouch in a corner, cut the carpet and peel it back, revealing exactly what I thought: gorgeous wood floors. They need to be sanded and refinished, but they’re beautiful.
“You came prepared,” Declan murmurs behind me. I stand and turn in time to catch him looking at my ass and cock a brow, but he’s not embarrassed in the slightest.
I’m wearing my usual outfit for this kind of work: a fitted black T-shirt and jeans with work boots.
“I love my girlie girl clothes,” I tell him and sheath the cutter in my back pocket. “But there’s a time and place for them, and this isn’t it.”
“You’re right.” He grins and hands me a hammer, along with some safety goggles.
“Ready?” I move over to the smaller wall and smile at Declan, and when he nods, we both start taking swings at the walls, making giant holes in the drywall and sending dust into the air. I make the mistake of glancing over at Declan in time to watch his biceps flex as he hits the wall, so to pull myself together, I focus on my wall until I have all of the drywall off the studs.
When I turn, Declan is done as well, his arms crossed over his dusty chest, watching me with humor-filled eyes.
“You’re hot when you’re beating the shit out of a wall.”
I bark out a laugh, scoop up a piece of drywall, and throw it, hitting him square in the shoulder, leaving a white mark. He simply looks down at his sh
oulders and then back at me, his eyebrows hiked up near his hairline.
“No. You. Didn’t.”
I snort with laughter and clap, delighted with myself. “I did.”
“You’ll pay.”
“How?”
He takes two steps toward me, his face determined, just as my phone pings with an incoming text.
“Saved by the bell!” I cry and pull my phone out of my pocket, then frown when I see Pete’s name. Busy for dinner tonight?
Ugh. Pete. He’s nice, and we do have a history, but it’s ancient history, and the chemistry just wasn’t there.
Plus, he has three children, and I’m not in the market to be anyone’s mom, step or otherwise.
Rather than reply, I just shove my phone back in my pocket.
“Something wrong?” Declan asks.
“No, it’s nothing.” I glance around, surveying our handiwork. “Do you see the brick I exposed near the outside wall?” I ask, pointing. Declan nods and we walk over to inspect it. “I didn’t see any brick on the outside of the house.”
“It’s not brick,” he confirms with a frown. “Back up.”
I comply, and he continues to punch out the dry wall on the adjoining wall, exposing more brick.
“I bet it was a fireplace,” I say, excited that we found it. “Someone decided they didn’t want it anymore and just hid it.”
“You’re right,” he says as he uncovers the actual fireplace part and smiles. “Let’s take this drywall out too and expose the brick. Even if it’s no longer functioning, the brick is beautiful.”
We spend another hour carefully uncovering the fragile brick. We don’t want to take out too much. It’s going to be a challenge for the carpentry crew as it is.
When we’re finished, Declan offers a fist for me to bump.
“We kicked ass today,” he says.
“And made a mess.” I wince and survey the dusty mess around us. “Let’s haul it all out to the dumpster, then rip out this carpet.”
“Then I’ll order in pizza.”
I check the time on my phone. “How did it get to be four in the afternoon already?”
“Knocking down walls takes time,” he says as he picks up an armful of drywall and heads out back to the dumpster. Hauling it all away takes almost as much time as it did to tear it down.
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