“Your conversation skills are superb.”
“If I hire you, will you want to talk all the damn time?”
She bit her lower lip. “Which answer will get you to hire me?”
“Which do you think?”
Her lips twitched. “You know, design requires talking and collaborating.”
“I tell you what I want, you do it.” My voice sharp with annoyance. I was used to getting people to do what I wanted.
“We can work it that way, but I find that collaborating brings forth a better design.”
I unlocked her door. “Bye, Hellcat.”
She huffed out a breath. “If you’re going for the beast alone in the scary house, you’re going to get your wish.”
“That’s exactly what I want.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Not if you want a relationship with Macy. Though you guys are equally surly. Well, until she started getting laid.” She opened the door and slid out of the seat.
“Offering, Hellcat?”
She slammed the door in reply, and I threw my head back with a laugh. Laughter was a rare commodity in my life.
Before I could think too much about that, I pulled away from her.
I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw her staring after me with her hands on her hips. Much like the last time I drove away from her.
I kept driving, getting her out of my view as quickly as possible. She was distracting and annoying as hell. Too bad my not-so LITTLE DICK was interested. Probably because it had been a good long time since I’d gotten a woman under me.
After the accident, I’d shut myself away from everyone. I didn’t like being a sideshow for those interested in the artist that survived his own sculpture trying to murder him, nor did I like the pity. It was just easier to stay away from people, especially when I didn’t have anything to offer.
Everything of worth had spilled out of me as surely as the blood on my cement floor.
And I was pretty sure that was where it remained.
I got past the grocery store, which seemed to be the last business on Main Street before it became a winding road going somewhere named Turnbull. It was more of a rural area full of heavy trees that diffused the late evening sun. Signs for Brothers Three Orchard as well as smaller vegetable and fruit establishments were the only things out there from what I could tell. A few houses seemed to be buried in the deep wooded areas.
It was the off-season for the orchards and well past closing time for the smaller stands, but I liked to know my surroundings. I didn’t really have a great set-up for cooking, but I did prefer to give my money to small businesses.
From what I could tell, the big box stores weren’t a million miles away, but they definitely weren’t the first stop for the locals. Before it got much darker, I turned myself back around and headed back to my house. The migraine hangover left me muzzy and unfocused.
I didn’t need to push it.
By the time I pulled up to my Airstream, the last of the sun was sinking beneath the tree line. I wouldn’t have electricity hooked up at the house until I could get an electrician out to check the wiring. God knew what I’d find inside.
When I’d taken my first walk-through, I’d been more interested in making sure the floors and frame of the house were solid. Windows and wires could be fixed, and the plumbing sure as hell would be needing an update.
As for the rest, it was a blank slate.
Just like me.
I looked back at the house a moment before I opened my door and frowned at the shadow in the window.
“Just a trick of the light,” I muttered and stepped up into my trailer.
The first thing I noticed when I walked in was Dahlia’s scent. It should have been the food she’d cooked, but no, the sharp scent of peaches with the lingering warmth of honey drifted over me.
Annoyed, I went right to the window and propped it open to flush it out with the breeze coming off the lake.
“Much better.”
I didn’t need that woman lingering anywhere in my life. Even if I was almost certain it would take a lot more than a strong breeze to sweep her out of my head.
ELEVEN
I woke to my cheek pressed to my drafting table in my bedroom. My back screamed as I straightened. “Gross,” I muttered as I wiped drool off my sketch. “Great.”
Gizmo jumped on my lap, his sweet face intent.
“Sorry, buddy.” I gave him a long stroke. “I definitely missed your last meal.” I scooped him up and tucked him up against my shoulder like a baby. “What are we thinking?”
Gizmo chirped in my ear.
“Is that for shrimp or chicken?” I asked as I padded into the living room toward my kitchen island.
