He butted his head against my neck. “Let’s try the chicken.” I set him on the stool, and he watched me with his huge green eyes.
I’d been working on the drawings for the last four days—through the whole weekend and around every other job I had. My eyes were so dry, I was going to have to stop and get another bottle of eyedrops. I’d poured over the archives in the Crescent Cove library, finding photos of the house when it had originally been built.
The blueprints were available and had given me a good starting point. Materials were also better at this point, so I had more options for glass and the arches now. Thanks to 3D printing and molds, I could lean into the Gothic architecture.
I set down Gizmo’s bowl and he sniffed it contemplatively before giving me a long look, then he ate with gusto.
Chicken won the fight tonight. Probably because I’d been late for second dinner.
My own stomach grumbled since I’d ignored it, as well. My own food supply was sorely lacking. The kitchen was almost back to normal after Davis had come in and cleaned out the water damage. Luckily, the needed replacements had only been a few slats of the hardwood and a bit of baseboard on the tile part of the kitchen floors. There was a plywood patch for now and everything else had been just a matter of using the wet vac to clear out the water.
Didn’t stop me from putting a half a dozen of those dehydrating jars around to kill the damp smell.
Gizmo wasn’t psyched about getting locked in my bedroom while I was at work, but it was better than another call to maintenance. I was also running out of time to find a new home for him.
Maybe I could convince the girls to let me make him a mascot at the design studio.
Then again, I’d worry about him escaping, so that probably wouldn’t work. I sighed and stroked a hand down his sleek back. “What am I going to do with you, buddy?”
I opened the fridge for the second time and found the shelves were in the same empty state. I grabbed the lone yogurt on the second shelf and checked the date with one eye open. Two days past—good enough. I took a spoon out of my drawer and wandered out into my small living room.
Gizmo trotted after me, probably hoping to get a taste or two.
I checked my phone and found a few missed texts from Avery and TJ about an on-site job we had tomorrow. We were doing a basement finish and outdoor landscaping on a new build in Crescent Gardens. Shelby was working on another project in Turnbull, so we were a little light on staff.
I answered the questions and then flipped the television on to distract myself but couldn’t concentrate on the canned laugh track of the old sitcom and just ended up switching it off again. Impulsively, I glanced at my phone and saw I might be able to get a meal at Lonegan’s before the kitchen closed. It wouldn’t be anything other than pub grub, but it sounded a helluva lot better than the Pop Tart I had left in my pantry.
Quickly, I swapped my lounge clothes for jeans and a tank against the heat that was simmering again. May was coming in hot and that didn’t bode well for the actual summer that wasn’t even here yet. I hit the stairs instead of waiting on the elevator and was out the lobby doors less than five minutes later.
The bar across the street from my building was doing a brisk business, as usual.
I gasped against the humid air and double-timed it across the four lane Kensington Boulevard. I waved to Colder Banks, one of my neighbors, who was behind the bar tonight. Pretty soon, he’d be overseeing the new speakeasy Velvet Noir, and we’d definitely miss him in our neighborhood bar.
“Bar or want a table, Dahl?”
I glanced around at the full tables and the equally packed bar. Then my gaze bounced back to one of the corner booths where a person with a very recognizable head of dark hair was seated. “I see someone I know.”
“I’ll have Cordelia bring you a menu.”
“Just a loaded cheeseburger and all the fries. Like all of them.”
Colder laughed. His stupidly handsome face took a girl’s breath. One of my other neighbor’s, Naomi Taylor, had snatched him right off the market. “You got it. Full basket of fries.”
“Oh, and that dipping sauce stuff.”
“On it.”
“You’re the best.” I thrummed my fingers on the bar. “Can I get a Firefly?”
“You’re nice and easy tonight.” He poured a pint of Firefly hard cider and slid it across to me. I started digging into my pocket and he waved me off. “I’ll add it to your dinner tab.”
“Now who’s making it easy?” I lifted it for a sip and hummed. “Thanks, Colder.”
He gave me a little salute and went back to the next customer.
I wound my way through the tables and waved to a few people I knew from trivia night. Between the trivia games at The Heights and Lonegan’s, I got a fair bit of non-work camaraderie out of my system. I’d missed it with my current obsession, that was the Barrows Mansion.
Speaking of obsessions…
I set my glass on the table and slid in the booth across from Nolan. “Hello.”
He sighed. “What are you doing here?”
“I actually live across the street. You’re in my territory again.” I folded my hands around my sweating glass. “What brings you out of the Cove?”
“Seven o’clock.”
I snorted. “That’s sadly true. Unless of course you want one of Mitch’s superior BLT’s or pancakes at the diner.”
He grunted and hunched over his plate—which was also a cheeseburger with an equally sweating glass of golden liquid. Guess we’d had the same idea.
“So, with or without the migraines, you stay in the grumpy mode.”
“I was having a very nice dinner all by myself.”
“Were you though?”
He relaxed against the wooden backing of the booth and took a sip of his...beer? He looked like a beer guy.
