Page 14 of Oh Holy Knight

“My chandelier!” she yelps.

Oh, God.

It’s worse than I thought.

“I don’t know what that is Miss Maria, but this here used to be a light fixture,” Bash says, holding it up like it’s a rubber chicken. “Fell right out of the ceiling when we were sanding the floor. My guess is it couldn’t handle the vibration,” he quips, flashing her a grin. When she doesn’t return the gesture, he straightens his shoulders. “Uh, I’m gonna need a dustpan and a broom to clean all the glass,” he adds, shoving it toward my dad. “You can probably scrap that for a couple of dollars.”

“That chandelier is an heirloom!” Maria cries.

Bash frowns and looks at the chandelier.

“You got any crazy glue?” he asks her. “I might be able to glue them dangly things back on, but I’m not sure where you’ll hang it.” He pauses to scratch his head. “I saw a coat rack by the front door—that might work.”

I flinch.

He didn’t really just suggest we hang her broken chandelier on a coat rack, did he?

Man, Costa Rica is looking more and more like the place to be. Dad takes the chandelier from him and walks it over to me, dropping it on my lap before stalking toward Bash. He grabs him by his kutte and presses him up against the china cabinet.

Not a smart move.

If that thing breaks, we’re all dead.

“When you say it fell out of the ceiling, what does that mean?” he growls.

Shit.

Maria doesn’t wait for him to respond and makes her way into the dining room. A shrill scream sounds and my dad and Bash take off for the dining room too. Sighing, I dump the broken chandelier on top of the table and stare at what’s left of my sandwich.

“A man can’t even eat in peace around here,” I mutter, grabbing the plate. I walk it over to the trash, squeezing my ass between the table and the china cabinet, and toss it. I suppose I should go in there and face the music, maybe offer to buy Maria a new chandelier.

I’m about to go in and access the damage when Maria storms back into the kitchen with my dad hot on her heels.

“That’s it!” she shouts. “I’m done.”

“Now, Lady, just simmer down. It’s only a light fixture.”

We’ve established I am the furthest thing from a relationship guru but even I know that is not the right thing to say to an extremely pissed woman.

She spins around and pokes a finger against his chest.

“Only a light fixture?! Look around, Al, this place is a fucking disaster. My china cabinet is in the kitchen, along with my table and the buffet. There’s a couch on my front lawn and a damn hole in my ceiling.”

Ah, so she did notice the couch on the lawn.

She turns her attention to me, and I square my shoulders. Damn, she’s scary when she’s mad.

“And where the hell are the chairs to my table?”

Dad waves his hands behind her, silently ordering me not to answer, but I can handle him His better half—not so much.

“Um…they’re in the master bathroom.”

“The bathroom?!”

The shower to be exact.

“We ran out of space down here, but don’t worry, I took my shoes off before I entered your bedroom. Nice pillows by the way. They really jazz things up.”

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