Page 14 of Hero Next Door
I got that. I did.
I just needed to make sure she did it in a way that didn’t hurt the rest of us. And if I was helping, it meant I got to make sure she didn’t sell to some big developer, and I got to use some of my own skills to do so. Hell, maybe I could even learn a thing or two. The perfect plan.
The perfect solution.
The only problem was that I was going to have to spend an awful lot of time with Parker while we carried it out. And though we’d had a moment last year—okay, several moments—and my body had certainly reacted to seeing her again, I wasn’t sure she was the same girl I’d gotten to know when they were stuck in town during that rainstorm. She seemed harder, somehow. More serious. Like she didn’t smile as much, or had forgotten how to have fun.
Maybe she just seemed like a girl who’d been on tour for a year, taken care of who knew how much while Avery was performing for the masses. Maybe I was just seeing the remnants of the stress from being on the road.
Or maybe she really didn’t like me and that was why her eyes went narrow and her mouth went small whenever I was around her. Maybe it was a reaction to being around a real man rather than those slick, slimy, overly manicured music business guys.
I shook my head and lowered the cup of coffee I’d been sipping at. I didn’t know what was going on with her or whether it had anything to do with me. It didn’t matter if it did. The only thing that mattered—the only thing—was that I convince her to keep the land so no developer got it.
If I could get that done, I could save my own ranch. And she’d sell the B&B and go back to wherever she’d come from and I’d never have to deal with her cold eyes or pursed lips again.
Her pursed, full, entirely kissable lips.
“Boy,” I ground out, lecturing myself.
I slammed the coffee cup down, breaking off the handle, and turned for the door. I needed ranch business to keep me from thinking about those sorts of things. Especially if I was going to end up spending the next length of time around Parker Pelton, fixing up the house so she could sell it and get on with her life.
And leave me to mine.
* * *
I showed up at Parker’s place an hour later, my libido firmly under control and a list of reasons I didn’t like the girl cycling through my head.
And yes, since you’re asking, I had texted her and let her know I was coming over to walk the property. I figured surprising her once by showing up out of the blue had been a risk. Surprising her a second time would probably be suicidal. I didn’t know for sure, but she seemed like the kind of girl who had mace in her purse. Maybe a taser. Hell, for all I knew, she was the sort who’d learned how to shoot a shotgun when she was five and had never stopped practicing.
I snorted, trying to imagine the willowy, sophisticated girl I’d met pointing a shotgun at me, and knocked firmly on the door, a whole lot more confident in my right to be here today than I had been yesterday, and waited impatiently for her to answer.
Not because I wanted to see her, but because I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. I’d left my lead guy, Hank, in charge at my ranch, but I was only willing to be gone for so long.
She opened the door with a cup of hot chocolate and a lifted eyebrow, like she was surprised I’d actually showed up. I glanced from her eyes—cold, as usual—down to the coffee cup in her hand, the chocolate foamy and looking very fresh, and lifted an eyebrow of my own.
“I was under the impression we were meeting right now for a walk around the property. Do I have the time wrong?”
I didn’t have the time wrong. She’d confirmed it earlier when I texted her.
She shrugged like none of this mattered—like she hadn’t just accepted my help yesterday—and stepped through her door. “Nope. Just finishing my breakfast. Let’s go.”
I scowled at her as she walked past me—not that she appeared to notice—and then followed her to the left, my eyes turning over to the house and taking it in for the first time. The place was beautiful, I’d give it that much. I’d never had much cause to come over here when Scarlett was alive, as I hadn’t known the woman well, but now that I was here, I realized that the house...
“The place has definitely got potential,” I said quietly, lengthening my strides to catch up to Parker. “A little paint, on the house and the shutters...”
“And the plumbing,” she added, falling naturally into step with me. “The pipes groan like they’re about to be murdered when you turn on any faucet.”
My mouth twitched. “Do people generally murder pipes where you’re from?”
She paused for a beat. “I’m from here, actually, so unless you know of a group of people here who murder pipes...”
I stopped, surprised at how she’d brought it up, but figuring that as long as she’d broached the subject, I might as well get through it. “I know you’re from here. I went to school with you, in case you’ve forgotten.”
She turned to face me, her face wiped carefully blank of any expression, and glanced down, looking like she was sorry she’d said anything.
Looking like the last thing she wanted was for me to connect her with this place.
“I remember,” she muttered. “But I also got out the moment I turned eighteen, and I don’t really want to connect with it again. So, the pipes too, I think. In fact, let’s have all the plumbing done. If we’re renovating, that’ll mean all the fixtures as well, right? That might as well include the pipes.”
