His to Claim

by Sierra Cartwright

  Judging by the peeling paint on the outside, not much.

  But still…

  “It has some charm, doesn’t it?” she asked.

  He glanced over at her. “You see it?”

  “Maybe paint it a bright color. Plant some lush foliage. It’s a good size lot, compared to the others around it. Restore the porch. Oh! Maybe add a fan. And shutters. They’d totally add charm.”

  Good for a storm, and aesthetics. He nodded.

  His mother and Norman arrived, so Mason shut off the car engine. “Ready?”

  Hannah nodded, but her fingers were tight on her purse strap.

  He came around to the passenger side to help her from the vehicle. “She won’t bite.” He leaned forward to speak against her ear. “But I might.”

  Her eyes widened, but he’d jolted her from her nerves.

  “Mason!” his mother greeted, kissing his cheek. “And who have we here?” She scowled. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing company.”

  “Mom, this is Hannah Gill. Hannah, I’d like you to meet my mother, Judith.”

  “A pleasure, Mrs. Sullivan. Mason has said some very nice things about you.”

  “Call me Judith, dear. I like you already.”

  In his mom’s customary way, she swept Hannah into a huge hug while Mason shook hands with Norman.

  Just then, Thoroughgood pulled alongside a curb and began the painful-looking process of squeezing himself out of the electric vehicle that was about the size of an enclosed motorcycle. The man could afford the priciest automobiles in existence, but he chose the most economical option possible.

  Once he was upright, and twice as tall as the car was high, he straightened his rumpled blazer. It was circa 1970, with leather patches on the elbows.

  Instead of shaking Mason’s hand, Thoroughgood pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

  “And who are you, young lady?” He glanced at Hannah then shot Mason a sly look.

  “Hannah Gill,” she introduced herself. “And if I’m not mistaken…you played for the Saints.”

  He pulled back his head, as if impressed. “Five seasons, ma’am.”

  Mason was stunned as well.

  “You were a first round draft choice. Played college ball for LSU.”

  Thoroughgood squinted his eyes at Mason. “You told her?”

  “Not one word. I promise. She’s a bona fide fan.”

  “Well, Ms. Gill. You’re my new favorite person. Now let’s get out of this heat before we all expire.”

  Since the front steps were missing, Norman and Mason helped his mother up. Then Mason took Hannah by the waist and lifted her off her feet, turning her to place her on the porch.

  Not wanting to release her, he held on for a very long time.

  Thoroughgood entered the code to the lockbox that contained the key. Rather than waiting for them, he shut the door.

  “That was impressive,” Mason said.

  “I love football. And he’s a legend, right? Meeting him is a dream. Just…thank you.” She kissed his forehead.

  And he was fucking hooked on her.

  His mother opened the door and peeked her head out. “Are you two coming?”

  “Right behind you,” he assured her.

  The inside matched the pictures he’d seen online. But it was mostly cosmetic.

  “Electric’s new,” Thoroughgood said. “Plumbing. Roof.”

  The basics.

  “Air-conditioning.”

  “Thank all the mercies for that!” his mother exclaimed.

  Though the square footage wasn’t impressive, as Hannah had said the property was a good size.

  “There are so many things you can do with the lot,” Hannah said to his mom. “A courtyard. What do you think about the idea of building a garage with an efficiency apartment above it?”

  “I love that suggestion, dear!”

  Thoroughgood looked at Mason and nodded his enthusiastic support of the idea. For someone who said she didn’t know a lot about houses, Hannah was a natural.

  Seeming entertained, Thoroughgood pulled out his cell phone and began filming shots of the interior.

  “You know, maybe you could pop the top. That’s a thing, isn’t?”

  “Of this house, you mean?” Judith asked.

  A natural, all right. And she knew how to double the budget in ten seconds.

  “That’s what I was thinking. That way you could double the square footage without needing to pour another foundation, or whatever you’d need to do,” his little sub added, her entire body humming with vibrant energy.

  How had she and his mother become in cahoots so quickly? Deborah’s relationship with his mother had been lukewarm on good days, frosty on others.

  “Like a master retreat kind of thing with a bathroom? What do you think, Mason? Is that possible?”

  “Potentially.” Mason took his time with an answer, being guarded. Hannah didn’t seem constrained by reality. Instead, she was steeped in possibility, seeing what could be, while a million practical details swam through his head. “I’d need to get up in the attic to see. Consult a structural engineer.”

  He’d thought maybe Hannah would hang back while his mother explored the place, but she didn’t. They walked together, discussing potential layouts and furnishings.

  He wondered why he’d come along at all.

  By some unspoken accord, he ended up in the space that was originally a kitchen with Norman and Thoroughgood while the two women walked outside, discussing the possibility of building a pergola.

  “If you add curtains to it, you can block out heat or wind,” Hannah suggested. “And an overhead fan would be perfect. Then you can use it almost all year round.”

  “I’m interested in this,” Thoroughgood mused, following the women.

  Reluctantly, Mason and Norman left the coolness for the outdoors.

  “A magnolia tree for shade,” his mom decided.

  “How about a firepit?” Hannah suggested, pointing to the right.

  Mason saw dollar signs, and he wondered if his mother had any idea how much her dreams might cost.

  Ten minutes later, they all went back inside.

  “What do you think, darling?” Norman asked.

  His mother was beaming. “Actually, no need. I’ve made a decision.”

  “Have you?”

  Hannah returned to Mason’s side, and her body was warm from the late-spring sun. “I love this place. So much potential.”

  “John, offer him thirty thousand less than he wants.”

  Thoroughgood nodded very, very slowly. “I think that might fly, Ms. Sullivan.”

  “Mom, why don’t you wait? Give me a day or two to run some numbers for you.”

  “Thank you, darling. That won’t be necessary.”

  What the hell? All these years of her not wanting to expand out of her comfort zone, and now she wanted to buy a vacation rental? “You should look at a budget.”

  “Of course. We won’t do anything extravagant. The market won’t allow it. But John ran the comps. Even if I put a hundred thousand into renovations, we’ll still be in good shape. And fortunately I know a builder who will be more than fair with pricing.”

  “At least get an inspector to look at it?”

  She smiled. Norman shrugged helplessly, in an age-old male gesture. For the first time, he felt for the man.

  “Let’s go to lunch to celebrate!”

  “I’m starving,” Hannah agreed. “And I love celebrations!”

  It took a few minutes to get everyone out of the house and lock the door.

  When he and Hannah were inside the car with the blessed air conditioner running, Hannah grinned. “That was a lot of fun.”

  “You mean it?” Since he wasn’t familiar with the restaurant Thoroughgood had suggested, Mason waited for the man to turn around his toy car and then followed him down the road.

  “Most definitely. Now I can’t wait to go to that walkthrough with you.”

  “
I was afraid I was ruining our afternoon.”

  “Not at all. That cottage is like clay, waiting to be sculpted. And your mom?” She adjusted one of the vents. “She’s so sweet.”

  Deborah hadn’t thought so.

  “I love how close the two of you seem to be.” Hannah turned to look at him, and she was wearing a soft smile. “It tells me what a good man you are.”

  She placed her hand on his thigh.

  A need to possess her seared him. Hannah didn’t know it yet, but he had no intention—ever—of letting her go.

  Chapter 9

  At the small restaurant that catered to locals with enormous muffuletta and po’boy sandwiches served with French fries and deep fried okra, Hannah sat next to Judith, while the three men huddled up to talk football.

  “I do like your suggestion for the focal point,” Judith said.

  “A tiered fountain? Or a sculpture?” Hannah grabbed her phone, and they searched images of various Southern landscaping. Taking note of what Judith liked, Hannah began to doodle on a napkin.

  Grinning, Judith took the pen and added some of her own touches.

  “I think it’s going to look wonderful. All those colors and things that flower at various times. And honestly, I might go for the fountain because the sound might drown out some traffic noise.”

  “Good point.”

  “And you could try to attract butterflies.”

  At that suggestion, Judith added a birdbath beneath a tree. “A glass one. Not concrete.”

  “I saw some at a garden center in Austin. They had different designs. I loved the cardinal and blue jay.” She opened the website to show Judith. “This one is my favorite.” Hannah opened a picture of one that was a large, colorful dragonfly.

  “Perfect. I’ll order one.”

  “I can’t wait to see how it comes out,” Hannah said when their food arrived.

  “You’re going to be part of it. Don’t think you’re not getting your hands dirty!” Judith proclaimed.

  Being welcomed into the heart of Mason’s life elated Hannah. It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed using her creativity this much.

  To complete the celebration, Thoroughgood ordered a serving of bourbon sauce–drenched bread pudding.

  “Have some,” Judith encouraged.

  Hannah wrinkled her nose.

  “Go on,” Thoroughgood added. “Try it.”

  Since everyone was staring at her, she picked up a spoon and carved off a small section.

  “Dip it in the sauce,” Mason said.

  Skeptically, she tasted it. The sweetness exploded on her taste buds. “Are you telling me I’ve been missing out on this my whole life?”

  “I assume you like it,” Mason teased.

  “It’s official. I have to live someplace where I can get this whenever I want it.”

  Leaning in so he wouldn’t be overheard, he said, “You are more than welcome to stay.”

  An air of seriousness sliced through his words, making her shiver. Around them, conversation continued, as if her world hadn’t lurched to a stop.

  “Sorry to cut this short,” Thoroughgood said a few minutes later. “I have another appointment.”

  “Us too,” Mason added. “Meeting homeowners in Algiers.”

  They all said goodbye, with his mother promising to update Mason on the plans to purchase the cottage.

  Outside, the heat was wilting, and Hannah was glad for the car’s air-conditioning.

  When she came to New Orleans, she tended to only visit touristy places, so she enjoyed seeing the various neighborhoods as they drove to the house he was renovating.

  The neighborhood was gated, and the properties were so large they were more like estates. There appeared to be a mix of modern structures as well as historic-looking ones.

  “This one was built in 1882 and reconstructed here in the early 1980s,” Mason said as he pulled into the circle drive. “But it hadn’t been touched since. This is the first renovation since then, and the Stevensons have an eye toward preservation.”

  Melissa Stevenson met them at the door and invited them inside. The home was over eight thousand square feet, and renovation seemed to be happening everywhere, making it difficult to see what the finished project might look like. She admired Mason’s vision even more.

  Despite the disarray, Melissa offered sweet tea and lemonade, and Brent jogged down the stairs to join them.

  They all walked through the house together while the Stevensons shared their thoughts and concerns, and she’d admired the straightforward way Mason pulled out a notebook and jotted down all the changes they wanted to make to the design.

  Back downstairs, in the kitchen, Mason opened his tablet and the file that held all the information about the project. He scrolled to the working budget and showed them the financial impact of their changes.

  “Forty thousand dollars?” Brent asked. “On top of what we’ve already agreed to?”

  “That’s a minimum.” Mason looked between the two of them. “Could be a little higher, but we can also try to shave a little off the price when we meet at the design center.”

  “I’m not made of money,” Brent protested.

  “It’s our forever home.” Melissa looked across at Brent.

  “Forever is how long we’ll be paying for it.”

  “What do you think?” Melissa asked Hannah.

  “Me?” It occurred to her that the Stevensons had no idea she wasn’t involved in Mason’s business.

  “Am I being ridiculous?”

  “It’s a lot of money,” Hannah agreed.

  “I think having a powder room for guests is a necessity, not a luxury.”

  As it was, there was a bathroom on the main level, but it was all the way at the back of the house and could only be accessed through one of the bedrooms. “If you change your mind later, it will be more difficult—and expensive to add it.”

  Mason nodded. “Less disruptive to do it now as well, since you’re not living here yet.”

  Melissa and Brent looked at each other.

  “We could delay construction of the pool house,” Mason suggested. “That would give you plenty of room in the budget. In fact, it would save you some money.”

  “Same argument.” Melissa shook her head. “Building prices go up. And it will be disruptive.”

  “And my mancave is going to be on top of it.” Brent scowled. “I’m keeping the mancave.”

  Hannah took a drink of lemonade to cover her grin. A bathroom, that they might use every day, was less important than his private space.

  “It stays,” Brent reaffirmed, as if there had been any doubt.

  “Do you need time to think about it?” Mason asked. “You’ll also be delaying your move-in date by a couple of weeks.”

  Brent heaved a sigh. “I’m not compromising on my list.”

  Melissa looked at her husband. “And I want my powder room.”

  Mason betrayed no emotion. “You’ve reached a decision?”

  “Mel gets what Mel wants,” Brent said.

  “In that case, I’ll get the changes drawn up.” Mason shook hands with both of the Stevensons.

  “Do you ever get frustrated with your clients?” she asked Mason once they were back in the car.

  “No. Every decision impacts their lives, and I try to remember that. The paint color and the countertops will be the first thing they see each morning. Even the lighting choices matter. Every time you walk into a room, you flip on a switch, right? Is it bright enough? Too bright? How many options do you want? It may seem minor, but it’s how our homeowners will interact with their space three hundred and sixty-five days a year.”

  “It’s just a huge contrast, I suppose, from the scope of what they’re planning versus what your mom is thinking about.” The Stevensons’ pool house budget was more money than Judith was planning for the cost of her entire renovation.

  He stopped for a moment while the security guard opened the gate and gave a faux salut
e.

  “Working with a million dollars is not much different than tens of thousands. No matter the price point, there are compromises that have to be reached. And most homeowners make changes until the last possible moment. One of my managers says she’s more a marital counselor than project consultant.”

  “This is so much more interesting than booking travel arrangements.”

  “I’m always hiring.”

  Once again, he’d caught her off guard and left her breathless. He couldn’t be serious. And yet, he was so very tempting.

  “I owe you a nice dinner after taking up your whole day with my work.”

  “Honestly, Mason. I enjoyed myself.”

  True to his earlier word, they stopped at the small market near his house. That was a first for her. Liam had never wanted to go with her, but Mason had shown endless patience as she’d looked at the regional selections and added half a dozen pralines to their basket.

  “Now to get you back to the house. I have a few ideas for the afternoon.”

  At his purposeful tone, a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold air blasting from the car’s vents went through her. All of a sudden he’d spiraled her back into a submissive mindset, and she couldn’t wait to be alone with him.

  “Oh, la, la,” Hannah said with a grin after they were seated at a fancy restaurant in the Garden District.

  They’d been given a wine list that was at least ten pages long and a menu that contained no prices.

  Though it was still early, and the dining room wasn’t crowded, candles flickered on the tables, and a jazz quartet played in one corner. “Fancy, Mr. Sullivan.”

  “Only the best for my beautiful submissive. You went above and beyond today.”

  He’d asked her to wear the black dress she’d had on when they left the club. He’d refastened her pearls and swept his approving gaze over her, lingering on her breasts, making her wonder what he was thinking.

  “You impressed me. Pleased me.”

  Warmth spread through her.

  “You weren’t overwhelmed?”