“By yourself?” he continued, his eyebrows raised as I nodded.
“Well, I’m obviously not going to do the work myself…I figured I’d hire it all out.”
He nodded. “And you’re livin’ in it at the same time?” This time he shook his head. “Probably not the best idea, Ms. Clark.”
“Just call me open-minded, I guess.”
He frowned. “That’s one way to look at it.” He continued to look past me, into the living room, as if taking stock of myriad needed repairs already.
“Do you know anything about construction?” I hesitated.
I couldn’t tell if he nodded or shook his head. It was a perfect mixture of both. “I dabble, Ms. Clark.”
“Please, call me Peyton,” I said quickly, suddenly realizing I hadn’t yet invited him inside. The rain splattered him from behind and an errant leak above the door kept dripping onto his shoulder. I was also slightly afraid that the termite-infested floorboards of the porch might give way under his weight. And that wouldn’t be a pretty picture.
“I dabble, Peyton.” The way he said the words caused me to swallow down a large lump of what I imagined was nervousness. I didn’t say anything but watched him glance around the foyer before bringing his dimpled smile back to me. “Big job.”
Then I remembered I was planning on inviting him in. “Would you, uh, like to come in?”
“Thought you’d never ask!” he said with a chuckle and took a quick step inside, the floorboards creaking in time with his footfalls.
“So, you dabble,” I started, suddenly nervous that this enormous man was inside my house. It wasn’t so much because I was afraid he might hurt me—I believed his story about being my neighbor and figured a friend of Hank’s was a friend of mine. My disquiet arose from the thought that here we were, alone, in my house. I shook the thoughts right out of my head, irritated with myself. I was acting like a total and complete moron—like I’d never seen a hot man before. And I had definitely seen lots of hot men…And once upon a time, the party girl Peyton had done a lot more than just look…
“I do,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“Does your dabbling ever include renovations on very old homes?” I asked, sounding beyond hopeful. One of the first items on my to-do list was to find a general contractor to run the show on my remodel. And, while I didn’t suppose Ryan, as a “dabbler,” could fit the bill, maybe he knew of someone who could.
He stood in the foyer and appeared to be taking in the house as he gazed first to the left, then the right. Finally, he spun around and faced me. “In the past,” he answered somewhat evasively and then eyed my house again, shaking his head. “But what I can tell you, Peyton, is that this place is not fit for you to be livin’ in.” Then he made a point of eyeing the pots and glasses already overflowing with rainwater. “Case in point.”
“What’s a little rainwater?” I asked with a smile and a shrug, completely not okay with the knowledge that I was definitely attracted to him. ’Course, what straight woman wouldn’t be? With that height and build, and those warm eyes and that damned smile, I was more than sure that Ryan Kelly was quite popular with the ladies. Which was just as well because I wasn’t interested in dating or men in general…or so I continued to remind myself.
But I couldn’t ignore the stirring of butterflies in my stomach. Was this how it was going to be now that I was divorced? After being with only Jonathon for the last five-plus years (and it wasn’t like he was very good in bed), was I now going to take note of every attractive man like a cat in heat? Because if that was what lay in store for me, I couldn’t say I was exactly thrilled.
“Well, first off, I wouldn’t describe this as a ‘little rainwater,’ ” he said with a knowing smirk. “Your livin’ room looks like the backdrop for Noah’s Ark.”
We both laughed but then I sighed as I glanced around the room and realized I’d been looking at it with rose-colored lenses. Realistically, the roof was leaking like a sieve; there was a perpetual musty, damp smell; and it wasn’t exactly warm. But, hey, it was mine.
“You know this whole setup isn’t exactly safe?” Ryan continued as he waved dismissively toward the heater in the center of the living room and all the pots and glasses surrounding it.
“How often does it rain?” I asked with a shrug, like whatever point he was making wasn’t too important.
He chuckled. “Often enough that I’m gonna give you some free advice.”
“Here we go,” I muttered, unable to keep the smile from my lips even as I chastised myself again for flirting with him.
“My sister is the manager at the Omni Royal hotel in the French Quarter. I could hook you up with a very good rate.”
“I want to live in my house during the remodel,” I argued, even going so far as to cross my arms against my chest, which, when in context with the blanket draped around my shoulders, probably made me look like I was imitating Hiawatha.
“I meant you could stay at the Omni just until the rain ends,” he answered quickly before offering me a cocked-brow expression. “I’m sure it’s not exactly comfortable livin’ here. It smells like a wet dog.”
I laughed because that was the exact smell I’d been trying to put my finger on for the last few days. Then I sighed as I realized he had a point. But I also didn’t like the idea of throwing in the towel and moving into a hotel for who knew how long? I glanced around the completely barren house, realizing maybe I had been a little too hasty in wanting to move in right away. I mean, there wasn’t any furniture, not even a rug. I had a closet full of clothes, which were probably being rained on, a portable heater, a mattress, and linens upstairs in the only dry bedroom I could find. Oh, and I also had the blanket around my shoulders. I guess I hadn’t exactly planned very well.
“Really, I’m fine,” I started, completely aware of how empty my words sounded.
“The rain is supposed to last another four days at the least,” Ryan said with a triumphant grin. Then he glanced over at the pots and glasses spread across my floor. “An’ by that time, this place will be a flood zone.”
“Okay, point taken,” I grumbled.
“Is that a yes?” he continued, sporting that impossibly charismatic smile of his.
“A yes to what?”
“To my incredibly generous offer of housin’,” he answered without a beat.
I smiled and in doing so, realized I’d just ceded him a victory.
2
The ringing of my cell phone woke me up. I rolled over, opened one eye, and glanced through the plantation shutters, which had once been white but now lay under a filmy cloud of gray. Seeing storm clouds still dominating the sky, I noticed the sound of raindrops pelting against the windowpanes. Shivering, I pulled the duvet cover all the way to my chin and wished my portable heater could ward away the chill in the air. With a humph, I rolled over and closed my eyes again. But my phone refused to be silenced. Grabbing it, I glanced at the caller ID and saw a number I didn’t recognize, but a local one nonetheless. Maybe it was Hank with a final invoice for the Scout.
“Hello?” I asked in a sleep-laden, gravelly voice.
“Mornin’, Sunshine,” Ryan’s Southern baritone pealed. “Just makin’ sure you were gonna keep your word to go visit my sister.”
I cleared my throat and felt a smile curling my lips on its own accord. But even though my initial response was to smile upon hearing the incredibly charming Southern accent on the other line, I didn’t exactly want him to know that. “Yeah, yeah,” I said, aiming for cool, calm, and collected.