Page 31 of The Best Laid Plans

The first half of our day had been spent in an uneasy truce while we navigated the interviews, and that truce was officially over.

I ignored the way her hair fell around her face with the hat gone. And how the blush on her face when she got really annoyed made her cheekbones stand in sharp relief.

I set my hands on my hips and faced her. “Help me out, then. We don’t have a builder. We need a new roof and God knows what else.” I tilted my head. “What do you propose we do about those issues, project manager?”

Her face went unexpectedly earnest. “I don’t know.”

I scratched the side of my face and sighed. “Before anything else, we have to find a builder.”

She nodded. Then she searched my face before she spoke again. “I’ll ... you can withhold my paycheck for the time being.”

“What?” I barked. “Why would you do that?”

“It doesn’t cost me anything to live at the carriage house, and I can eat at my aunt’s. She lives just down the street. That’s what I did when I didn’t get a paycheck after Chris and Amie died.” Her chin rose a notch. “If it helps the trust lawyer see how serious I am about getting this done the right way, I can let them keep my income to stretch the budget further.”

My eyes narrowed.

“Only if you agree to leave the furniture alone,” she added. “Not a single piece gets sold without my agreement, because I’ll just have to turn around and buy something else when we’re done, and I don’t think you want me doing that.”

“IfI need furniture once it’s done,” I said quietly.

Her head reared back, chest heaving on an inhale. Charlotte didn’t speak right away, and I could see her frustration on every inch of her face. “Trust me, even if you sell it, you’ll want this thing staged to bring in maximum return. You’ll want every single piece.”

I mumbled something under my breath about stubborn women and ugly couches.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I swear, if you try to undermine me on this, I’ll find the most expensive pieces I can just to spite you.”

I was tempted to laugh. My lips threatened a smile at the fierce look on her face.

It was begrudging admiration for just how little she was intimidated by me. For the lengths she was willing to go for this place that I didn’t even want to own. I towered over her, and instead of backing away, her chin ticked up one more scant inch.

Charlotte held my glare, and for one protracted moment, something hot kindled under my ribs. It curled around my spine and dipped lower until my hands curled into fists.

It felt—quite disturbingly—like foreplay.

Because the first thing in my mind was a sick curiosity about whether she’d bite my lip if I tried to kiss her right then. I’d never touch a woman who didn’t want it, and because it had been so long since I’d been with anyone, I could hardly stop the torrent of images that hit my brain all at once. Broken couches and messy red hair and sucking, biting kisses during which we fought for dominance.

With a shaky exhale, I stepped back. “I’d never withhold your pay.”

Charlotte licked her lips, studying my expression curiously. Then she nodded.

“And I will do my own inquiries about a possible builder.”

That had her eyes flashing. “I know everyone in the state of Michigan who’s equipped for a historical restoration of this magnitude.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Suddenly the back-and-forth didn’t feel like foreplay, and it didn’t feel fun. Probably because I’d been imagining nonexistent sexual tension and she was just trying to do her job.

Tansy’s words echoed in my head. How I was acting like our dad.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” I admitted. “Whatever this ... back-and-forth shit is,” I said wearily. “I just don’t want to feel like we’re always against each other.”

Charlotte’s gaze dropped to the floor, and she sighed. “I don’t want to fight either.” When she looked back up, her face held an unspoken apology. “It’s much easier to be nice to people than ... this.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I admitted wryly. “I’m not a nice guy, remember?”

She exhaled a quiet laugh.

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