Page 19 of Always Knew It Was You

“The plumbing guys fucked up the HVAC in about three or four of the rooms. The walls will have to be broken for them to take care of this.”

“Jesus. And why didn’t y’all catch on before?”

Did he say ‘y’all’?I almost snort.Someone’s adopting his fiancée’s twang.

The man itches his hand, through his long sleeve, staring at the floor self-consciously. “Well, it all seemed fine at first. It wasn’t until one of the workers tried to use that bathroom that the problem became… obvious.”

Declan rubbed his temple. “We’re going to have to redo the entire wall after we fix it.”

“Not necessarily.”

They both glance at me.

“Just add it to the design.”

Declan’s eyebrows furrow. “Huh?”

“Industrial pipe decor is all the rage nowadays. Just extend the pipe outward and make it part of the design of the room.”

“I’m not sure that would work,” Hal says. “I’ll have to run it by the architect we have on staff first.”

“I doubt your architect has studied extensively the mechanics, history, and psychology of eighteenth-century design, but go for it,” I say, turning back to stare at the roof.

They’re silent for a second and then Declan says, “Just go ask him.” The door closes as Hal leaves.

“You know being arrogant won’t endear you to people in this town,” Declan points out. “I’m speaking from experience.”

“Hmm,” I say noncommittally. “Speaking of people in this town, how’s Carly?”

I turn to find Declan with a warning eyebrow raised. “In what way?”

I grin. “In the way that I’m inquiring about her general well-being.”

“And why are you inquiring now? You never have before.”

I’ve never spent a mind-blowing night with her before. “So I can’t ask how your fiancé’s friend is doing?”

“Stay away from Carly,” Declan says sternly. “She’s going through a lot, what with her cousin’s jail sentence and all. She doesn’t need you adding on to it.”

Oh, Declan. You’re so naive.

He should know me better by now.

Telling me to stay away from someone is a sure way of pushing me closer to them.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CARLY

“... and the entire place looked like a slaughterhouse.”

I stiffen as the tendrils of the conversation reach me. It seems almost uncanny that I was able to pick it out amidst the din.

It’s just after five and the bar is packed with both tourists and locals. It’s pretty noisy, even without the country song currently blasting on the speakers. The sound and the greasy scent of burgers and beer are almost oppressive, adding a much-needed heat to the cool atmosphere.

I shouldn’t have even heard a word of that conversation. But it’s always easier to hear bad news and for some reason, I’ve always been able to sense when people are talking about me or my family. It’s like a cruel sixth sense and I hate it because I would much rather be oblivious to the gossip. But I can’t help but listen.

I can’t physically escape it either as I wait for the elderly man at the opposite table to find his credit card. The words from the table behind me drift to me and it soon proves that they’re talking about exactly what I feared they might be.

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