Me: Funny you should mention it...
Shelby: Ugh. I’m afraid to ask.
Me: We’ll talk when I get back. I’m on my way. Do you guys need food?
Shelby: Nah. Dex brought me lunch. TJ confiscated half of it.
Another reason I’d gotten the love bug. Seeing Shelby with a great guy who would do anything for her put ideas in a girl’s head. I glanced at my—Nolan Devereaux’s—house one last time as I buckled my seatbelt.
If he wasn’t lying, I had an unlimited budget to bring her to life the way she deserved.
If he gave me the job.
I was going to put together a kickass mood board and initial design sketch and manifest the crap out of getting this job. I’d toured the property during one of Hamilton Realty’s many open houses and had taken photos. I had a few dream sketches in my design program already. At least a few that might entice him to see just how perfect I’d be for the job.
A shadow in the third-floor window made my heart skip and dragged me out of my what-ifs. Was that Harriette?
I’d caught a glimpse of her before. She didn’t show herself all that often, but sometimes I got a feeling there was something out here. I was open minded, and the house screamed for a ghost, dammit.
“I’m going to make this place amazing again, I promise.” I mostly whispered it to myself, but maybe she’d hear me too.
The drive back to Kensington Square was a quiet one. I kept turning around the ideas I had for the house, the shock of finding out who the stranger from the night before was, and dread for the meeting with Deb until I was pretty sure my brain was going to explode.
I managed to find a parking spot across from Designing Women. The only drawback of having office space on this particular strip of the city meant off-street parking. Bonus, I’d gotten much better at parallel parking. Kind of.
I grabbed my bag, as well as my untouched lunch, and hissed out a breath as I bumped my arm. I was a freaking mess. I should have gone home and changed, but I wasn’t quite ready to deal with the property manager just yet. I’d just have to raid my stash of clothing I kept on hand for just these kinds of emergencies.
When you visited construction sites more often than not, things happened. Like that one time I brushed against a nail and took a chunk out of a pair of form-fitting brown pants. No saving those suckers, and of course I’d been wearing red polka dot panties that day, so I might as well have been clad in a damn flag.
After that, I’d kept at least two spare outfits on hand at all times.
I glanced through our gorgeous window before I walked in the front door to make sure there were no surprise clients inside. A quick swell of pride hit me at our logo etched in the glass. Classy and strong with a touch of feminine, thanks to the mix of traditional and script fonts. Luckily—or unluckily, depending on one’s glass full mentality—there was no one inside other than TJ and Shelby.
Quickly, I slipped through the door and tried to rush for my office.
“What the hell happened to you?” TJ’s deep and authoritative voice boomed.
I winced. “You’ll never believe it.”
“With you, we will. You might be our problem solver, but it’s mostly because you always back into some sort of drama. What happened this time? Freak hurricane?”
“Har-har.” I slumped into a chair at the conference table. “Ow.”
Shelby disappeared into our breakroom and came back out with our first aid kit—pink, of course. Couldn’t have a plain one. This one was filled by our resident mother with all the things we needed for bumps, cuts, scrapes, as well as meds for any and all versions of headache, cramps, allergies, or sickness. Shelby was a thorough one.
She sat next to me, took one look, and cracked one of the quick acting ice packs. “Honestly, what happened? Do we need to go to the clinic?”
That was Shelby—cool and calm in the face of a crisis, but I did see the worry in her eyes.
I patted her arm. “I’m okay.”
Her brow furrowed, but she nodded and started ripping open bandages. “Do we need to bury a body?”
I laughed. “Not yet. That remains to be seen. So, remember my truck guy?”
“Little Dick?” TJ grinned as she pulled a chair over so the three of us formed a little triangle. “I feel there’s a story time upon us.” She gathered her feet under her and sat crisscrossed in the wide, comfortable chair.
Shelby gave her sharp look.
“I haven’t been to a work site. Boots are clean, Ma.”
“They’re never clean.”
Shelby put a towel on the desk and unscrewed the cap on a brown bottle that would make me very unhappy in a second. Resigned to my fate, I set my arm on top of the thick black towel.
TJ rolled her eyes and her Timberlands thudded to the floor, then she crossed her legs normally and leaned in. “Now give me the story.”
I hissed as Shelby poured peroxide onto my worst cut. “Ouch.”
“At least you don’t need stitches, but this is going to be sore.”
I looked away from the disinfectant bubbles going wild on my skin. Ugh. “That was the worst of them. So, I went out to my house to clear my head.”
Shelby narrowed her eyes. “Not surprising with all you’ve had going on this week.”
I gave a gusty sigh. “That’s the truth. Ouch, dammit, Shel.”
“I gotta get it clean. Stop wiggling.”
