“Nonnegotiable.”
She held out her hand. “Then we have an agreement, Mr... You gotta give me your name sooner or later.”
I took her hand, and this time, I was prepared for the zing. I wasn’t disappointed. Her softness was backed by steel as she shook my hand firmly. But there was a part of me that wanted to pull her in closer as much as I wanted to send her off the property and never see her again. “Nolan Devereaux.”
Her eyes widened. “Devereaux?”
I was going to have to get used to that look. Crescent Cove was a small town, and my sister was a large part of it.
“Any relation to—”
“Macy’s my sister.”
“Well, shit.” She looked back at the house then to me. “That tracks. This job just got a helluva lot more interesting. I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Why is that?”
“Does Macy know you’re in town?”
“She will.” I let her hand go. “And I’m here to stay.”
Whether my sister would be happy about that fact or not remained to be seen.
FIVE
Nolan Devereaux.
How on earth did that happen in this life? One of my first major clients had been Macy. Even before we’d established Designing Women, I’d been doing interior design on my own. I’d helped her overhaul the café and her offshoot Halloween-themed restaurant, The Haunt, as well as her apartment.
The apartments over the café were blank canvases and Gavin Forrester, the owner, had allowed for a lot of leeway with his tenants. We hadn’t done a lot of structural changes in the apartment, but I’d definitely leaned into Macy’s love for Halloween and horror. Since we both shared an affinity for it, we’d formed an easy relationship that had only grown stronger as Macy settled into the Cove.
We weren’t quite as close as we used to be, thanks to our demanding businesses and her growing family. Macy, who’d been the poster child for no kids, now had a stepdaughter and a son. No one had seen that coming, including me, but love did crazy things in Crescent Cove, that was for sure.
“Being related to Macy would normally be a good referral. If she’d ever mentioned you.”
His eyebrow arched in that way that made me want to slug him and... other things that I didn’t want to think about. Especially now that I’d felt every freaking inch of him. Mercy.
Since he didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, I tamped down my frustration. “I know. I’m the one who has to sell myself, Mr. Devereaux.”
He just narrowed his eyes at me.
“You know what I mean.” I huffed out a sigh. Getting information out of him was like using a crowbar for a pistachio. “If you’d follow me to my car, we can exchange information.”
“Nope.”
“What do you mean ‘nope’?”
“You know where I am.” He put the mask back on and flung another rotted board into the Dumpster.
Before I could open my mouth again, he put his headphones back on. Stubborn, rude, beast of a man. With all the pride I could muster, I hobbled my way back around the house to the driveway where I’d left my car. Annoyed, I got inside and checked my phone.
Great. I’d missed two calls while I’d been risking my life for my dream mansion.
I reached behind the passenger seat for the ballet flats I kept in the pocket and tossed my ruined Michael Kors shoes into the backseat. I slipped on the flats as I scrolled my phone.
Two texts from my furniture contact about a couch that I’d been waiting on for a client. I quickly fired back a reply before I forgot then blew out a breath and checked my calls. One from Deb Gordon, the property manager of my building. My shoulders instantly hunched. I still had to deal with the water damage to my apartment as well as my downstairs neighbor’s ruined bedroom. I hadn’t heard back from Amberly about her date night with her boyfriend, but I’d wager I was still on her shit list.
The other missed call was my mother.
Fantastic.
There was a three-minute voicemail waiting for me. That would need to wait. I didn’t have the headspace for that nonsense right now. Jeanine McKenna was...a lot. Ever since she and my dad had retired, they’d been driving me to drink. They both needed hobbies that consisted of something other than my love life. They wanted grandbabies and for their only child to be settled down with a husband and a dog.
Did they care that their only child was more a cat lady?
Not really.
My mother’s endless badgering was one of the main reasons I’d actually signed up for that stupid HEA dating app. It wasn’t as if I was opposed to finding my person, I just wasn’t sure how I was supposed to fit the hunt for said interesting person, the dating part, and the falling in love portion of the equation into my already jam-packed life.
My phone buzzed in my hand, dragging me out of my musings.
Shelby: Where are you?
Me: Grabbing a bite and stuff.
Shelby: You mean mooning over your horror house on the lake?
