He smiled. “It’s a great house. I’m sorry to say it won’t be a quick project, but I think we can have most of it finished before winter.”
I winced. “Did you tell Nolan that?”
He patted my arm. “Not yet.”
“Great.” That meant it was probably up to me to give him the bad news.
“We’ll do what we can, but this one needs to be done right. This house has amazing bones. It’s just going to take my A-team and a few outsourced artisans.”
“Nolan mentioned he has a masonry friend. Archer was his name, but I’m not sure if it’s his first or last.”
“That’ll help. Hugely.” Gideon pulled out his phone and made a note. “I’ll ask him about that. They’re not easy to come by these days and the one I use is booked solid through the summer.”
I only hoped that would help with the timeframe. Nolan was not going to be happy with four or five months to do the work. Not that I was shocked about that.
“Okay, I’ll wait to hear from you. I’ll be at the studio.”
“Sounds good.” He lifted his phone to his ear as he walked away. “Hey, Mace. How are you feeling?”
Was it a baby epidemic? Or was Macy just not feeling great?
I made a mental note to try and stop by Brewed Awakening sometime this weekend. Macy was notoriously shit about answering her texts and phone calls. I glanced back at the mansion. I could already picture how amazing it was going to be.
A shadowy form drifted through one of the windows. “We’ll put your house back together, Harriette. I promise.”
I got in my car and blasted the air conditioner. Right now, I had a fluffy feline very much of this earthly plane to worry about.
EIGHTEEN
I stopped at the Airstream for a shower after the inspector and Gideon left.
It felt like a fine layer of dust was stuck to every part of me. Didn’t help that I’d sweated my ass off the whole visit. May was already a bitch with the heat. I couldn’t imagine what the real summer would look like.
Luckily, Gideon had been professional, if a little cool. Rob, the inspector, had been very thorough. He’d checked things I’d never even imagined I’d have to worry about, which proved even more how over my head I was.
And I’d already started shuffling money around for the renovations because my bank account was going to be taking a hit. Houses—or mansions—were definitely built to last back in the 1800s. There was very little structurally that I needed to be concerned about.
But all the windows were going to be custom. And the stained glass I wanted would add another level of cost.
It would be worth it, but it wasn’t going to be a quick endeavor.
Gideon wanted to go over the list of things that needed to be done first. The roof and windows were priority, as were the chimneys, which would need a good cleaning and realignment. I could still hear the cash register ca-ching noises in my head as I ducked under the spray in my little bathroom.
The small shower reminded me of the plumbing that would need to be checked over, as well.
My head pounded at the thought of all the work that needed to be done. I was eager to get to it, but it wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped.
No part of moving to Crescent Cove was easy.
Except for Macy. I knew it was going to take more work to get to know her once again, but that was one thing I could be thankful for.
At least the house would keep me busy for a while. I had that as an excuse when Maeve came looking for another sculpture. Not that there was a single idea in my head. It had been scarily devoid of ideas for a good long time now.
I shut the door on that line of thinking.
After I finished my shower, I flopped on my bed to dry off while the air conditioner chugged out a cool breeze over my skin. I grabbed my phone to see if Archer had tagged me back.
Instead, there was a message from Dahlia.
Dahlia:
My afternoon is light if you want to discuss the report. I’ll be at the design studio.
I tossed my phone on the shelf behind my head. Going over there wasn’t a good idea. I should probably make sure I was around other people when I spoke with her.
My dick stirred to life at the thought of her.
Which was exactly why I should steer clear. I’d slept for shit again. Flashes of her skin, the greedy clasp of her body, and the way she’d screamed my name had plagued my dreams all damn week. My big, scarred hands on her hips as I drove into her. As I flipped her over to take her from behind because I didn’t want her to see how she affected me.
I didn’t trust myself not to reach for her again.
Not that she would probably be susceptible to any advances on my part based on how we’d left it.
But for fuck’s sake, arguing was practically foreplay as far as my dick was concerned.
I ignored the semi hard-on I was already sporting and rolled off the bed to tug on a pair of jeans. I’d been avoiding going to Trick or Treat since I’d come to town. It was hard to be around my sculptures. They were the last of the ones I’d made for myself before the accident.
