Page 42 of The Single Dad Project

He arched an eyebrow. “Are you afraid I’ll eat it like the ogre you’ve made me out to be?”

“I don’t know.” Flo sniffed, a trace of humor whispering through her annoyance. “Appetite proclivities aside, those ham-size hands look a little too clumsy to handle my equipment.”

As soon as she said it, she heard it.

And he did, too. She could tell by the flash of heat in his golden eyes and the taut pull at the corners of his mouth.

God knew there was nothing clumsy about the way he handled anything on her. He’d proven that several times in the one night they’d been together. A flippant comment rode the tip of her tongue, but in the warmth of that bright gaze, it evaporated.

“Can I see?” he asked again.

Instead of giving him a reply, she walked over to him, camera outstretched.

He accepted it and pressed the arrow buttons next to the viewfinder, silently scanning through the pictures. Not just the stained glass but the ones from earlier—of the now finished living room from different angles and in different lighting. At the time, she’d been proud of how...romantic they’d turned out, as if caught between this century and a past one. Now, though, with Adam peering at them, she felt kind of silly. As if they would confirm his belief she was too immature for this job.

When he finished he remained silent, and she hated the anxiety that amped up inside her. Hated that she cared what he thought.

But damn, it was just rude that he didn’t sayanything—

“These are stunning,” he murmured.

Not looking up from the camera, he scrolled through the shots again, and once he made it to the end, he finally glanced up and met her eyes.

“I mean it, Flo. They are truly beautiful.” He passed the camera back to her, but didn’t let go when she grasped it. “When we finished that living room, I saw refurbished and new crown molding. A replaced fireplace, new hardwood flooring and insulated bay windows. Sound structuring. I see a job well done and a vision completed. But there—” he dipped his chin “—I just saw art. You took what we did and created beauty and inspiration. You are incredibly talented and gifted. I was wrong, Flo.”

He released his hold on the camera, and she grabbed it, abruptly thankful for something to do with her hands. Because then she wouldn’t press a fist to the fluttering in her stomach.

“I take back what I said about you not deserving this job. From those pictures, the town council hired the perfect person, and that’s you.”

She shouldn’t be affected by his apology or his praise; she hadn’t asked for either. But she would be a liar if she denied the pleasure unfurling in her chest. She didn’t want his validation.

No, she didn’twantto want it.

And God, did that make her sad.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Clearing her throat, she slipped the camera strap over her head. “We should probably—” A loud creak groaned in the room, and they looked at each other. Her eyes widened, and shock laced with unease had her blood pumping. Only the two of them occupied the room, and no wind blew on this cloudless afternoon, so...what the hell? “What was that?”

He surveyed the area, and when their gazes met again, a hint of a smile flirted with his full, sensual mouth.

“You mean you’ve never heard of the Hudson Bride?” he asked.

The Hudson Bride? What was he talking about? The questions flitted through her head even as she peered into the rounded shadows of the tower room as if she would discover answers there. Or, God forbid, a bride.

“I’ll take that confused look as a no.” He chuckled, pivoting on his heel and scanning the room along with her. “I’m not surprised. I found the story in the old papers from the first two owners and sellers of the house. Apparently, Mr. Theodore Hudson, the original owner of this home, had a sister, Catherine, who lived with him, his wife and two small children when they moved here from New York back in 1885. This was her room.”

Flo tried not to gape. Tried, and failed. A ghost story. Was he really about to relate a ghost story? A delicious shiver tripped down her spine. As one who attended ghost tours in every city she visited, it baffled her that she’d never heard one connected to this house—in her very own hometown.

“According to the papers, Catherine was engaged to be married to one Mark Chandler, the son of a very wealthy and prestigious banker in New York. The Hudsons were a family of means as well, but not on the level of the Chandlers, and Mark’s parents weren’t happy about the engagement. So when Catherine moved to Massachusetts with her brother, his parents used the time and distance to pressure their son into meeting another woman of their choice. Mark evidently caved and married this other woman. But he neglected to tell Catherine. The entire time, she believed they were still set to be married, and she didn’t find out about the end of their relationship until friends visited Theodore and his wife and brought news of Mark’s marriage.”

So caught up in the tale, Flo gasped, her stomach bottoming out for poor Catherine.

“What a piece of shit coward,” she said, voice hushed, but anger on behalf of the long-dead jilted woman swirling inside her.

Adam nodded. “He was that. And Catherine was understandably devastated. She tried to reach out to him, but he refused all contact. Heartbroken, she retired to this room, and it’s said she spent most of her time here until she died sometime in the 1930s. She only left the house to go down to the gazebo or the stream, which was a river back then. And she hardly ever went into town, which explains why most people don’t remember her. But...” Adam paused, pretty dramatically, Flo mused, and she didn’t miss the gleam in his bright eyes. “On dark, moonless nights, past owners have reported hearing a creaking in this room as if someone was walking the floorboards. Pacing back and forth. Longing for a love that will never come.”

Flo stared at him, at the twitching of his lips as he tried not to smile.

“You obviously missed your calling,” she drawled. “But they have storytelling hour at the library for the kids. You would be a massive hit.”

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