Page 6 of Dragon Detective

“Sure,” I said. I could walk. Ishouldwalk. But we were talking a mile or so here. Driving, he’d reach my place within minutes, while it would take me fifteen to catch up.

Time was money, and I was sure his clock was ticking.

Reminding myself of that made it easier to ignore the heavy look in his eyes and his raspy voice—somewhat.

With a pressed-on smile, I walked across the road with him and over to a bright red truck.

“Pretty,” I said as he opened the passenger door.

“Dragons love sparkly things. Brightly colored things.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Now why was I considering painting my bedroom red? I preferred neutral colors. Pale green. Light gray. Nothing splashy that made me—or my home—stand out.

Before I could step onto the running board, he scooped me up and plunked me in the passenger seat.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he said.

He shut the door before I could sputter and tell him I was perfectly capable of climbing into a truck on my own.

Before I could remind him not to call me sweetheart.

I swore he winked as he strolled around the front of the truck and climbed inside the driver’s seat.

Reaching across me, he grabbed the seatbelt and buckled me in.

“Sorry,” I muttered, feeling foolish. I never drove without putting on my belt. Instead of taking care of it like I should, I’d sat here, feeling stunned and overwhelmed by this guy already.

This was a business relationship. He wasn’t asking me out. Even if he was, I’d turn him down.

Right?!

Fortunately, I didn’t have to decide as he started his truck and, with a rumble, pulled it out onto Main Street, following my directions to Blakemore House.

He parked in the driveway and shut off the engine. “Good bones,” he said, studying my new acquisition.

“I love it,” I gushed, overcome all over again by the heady feeling I’d experienced when I drove from Boston to check out the place. A realtor friend of my father’s had mentioned it was going on the market soon, tipping me off because she knew I was looking for something like this. I’d rushed here that very day and made an offer before I stepped through the front door on my way out. My offer was accepted, and here I was, the proud owner of a potentially haunted B&B.

“Do you think the building being haunted could be turned into an asset rather than a handicap?” I asked, nibbling on my thumbnail.

“It might if the ghost is friendly.” He flashed me another smile, and I didn’t like the way his gaze smoldered as it traveled across my face because it made me want to simper.

I unbuckled before he could do it for me and shoved open the door, sliding out of the seat to land squarely on the ground.

Meeting up with him in front of the truck, I swept my hand toward the left side of the building. “This way. I use the back entrance most of the time.” Partly because a few porch floorboards needed replacing. Also because the front door needed to be sanded and re-stained. I’d already done a lot of work on the back of the building.

I led him down the path with meticulously pruned and weeded flower beds on each side, gesturing to them with pride as we passed. “I redid these in one afternoon. My dad always said I had a way with plants.”

“They look wonderful. So colorful.” He tilted his head to gaze up at the three-story structure that had been built like a square block. “Such a gorgeous building. I can see why you’re excited. It’ll make a perfect B&B.”

“The piece de resistance,” I said grandly when we stopped at the end of the path, waiting for his reaction to the view of the ocean gleaming in the distance. I grinned as his eyes widened.

“Wow,” he said. “Wow.”

I loved that he wasn’t pretending.

“So beautiful,” he added.

I eagerly led him across the stone patio I’d scheduled to weed this weekend. I’d placed a few pieces of wicker furniture out here already, though just a chair for me, a few for guests, plus a table where I set my morning coffee. The cute basket with a soft pillow was for Max, though he scorned it, preferring to lie beneath my chair on the stones. Wasn’t that just like a cat to be ornery about things like that?

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