Page 22 of Daddy's Wild Girl

Urgh. Why did she agree to this?

Because if you hadn’t your dad would have canceled this tour.

And she wouldn’t have forgiven herself if he’d had to do that.

So now she had to have two strange men in her tiny house, which was in desperate need of a complete makeover.

Oh well, maybe they’d decide they couldn’t stay here and quit.

That would make her . . . a bit sad if she was honest.

Shoot. Was she so lonely she’d rather have two strangers in her house than be alone?

Bebe forced her tired butt up the stairs and unlocked her front door. She walked inside and they followed; each of them carrying a backpack and a large duffel bag.

She really didn’t think that looked like enough stuff for four weeks.

But, hey . . . what did she know?

“Welcome!” she said cheerfully as she turned to take in their faces. “Make yourselves at home. My house is your house. Do you want the grand tour?”

“Grand tour?” Hayes asked, stepping over the power saw she had in the hallway. She’d been cutting baseboards for the living room. And she probably should have cleaned up a bit better. “This place is . . . it’s . . .”

“A construction zone?” Corbin offered. “Are you sure it’s safe to live here while contractors work on your house? What about health and safety?”

“Ahh, well, I checked with the health and safety officer and they said it’s fine,” she said as she turned and walked into the kitchen.

She hadn’t attempted to tackle the kitchen yet. It was just too intimidating right now. And she thought she might need some help with it.

Actual, professional help.

Maybe.

“Who the heck is in charge of health and safety?” Hayes asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

It wasn’t original, thankfully, since the house had been built in 1922. But the kitchen had been updated sometime in the sixties . . . she thought.

The cabinets were this odd orange-red color and the countertop, which had once been white, was now turning a kind of brownish-creamish color. The oven had been updated in the sixties, too, and surprisingly, it still worked. Not that she could actually cook. There was no dishwasher, only a tiny space for a fridge, and the cold water didn’t work very well.

Hot worked great, though.

Almost too well.

“Well, that would be me,” she said, reaching into the fridge for three beers.

Both men shook their heads when she offered them.

Okay, just her, then.

She used the edge of the countertop to pop the lid off and took a sip.

Actually, maybe beer wasn’t the wisest choice on an upset stomach. When was the last time she’d eaten?

“You?” Hayes asked.

“Are you saying that you’ve been doing the renovations yourself?” Corbin asked.

“Yeah. That a problem?” She braced herself for their ridicule while trying to act like it didn’t matter to her.

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