Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
H ad he heard her right?
Because he could have sworn she’d said she should have bought this house before moving in with her ex.
“Brody. Hi.” Her eyebrows hit her forehead, her entire face going slack with surprise. Yeah, she hadn’t meant for him to overhear any of that. Further proof came when she offered a fake-as-her-plastic-ring-collection smile. “Almost done with the shelving. How’s the writing going?”
“Not bad. I was going to ask you to lunch.”
“No. I’m good. I have to run an errand. The sooner the better.”
Unwilling to let her off the hook, he asked, “What did you mean about buying this house?”
“Excuse me.” She tapped the arm he’d stretched across the doorframe. He stepped aside to let her pass, but he continued questioning her in the hallway. “You didn’t also happen to put in an offer for it when I did… Did you?”
He’d noticed before how familiar she was with this house. She’d had an almost eerie recognition of every floorboard, creak, and wonky light fixture.
“No. I didn’t. But the, ah, owner did check in with me and ask if it was okay for him to sell it.”
“You know Ike Palmer?” He followed as she continued through the house. Had she picked up speed, or was he imagining it?
“Yeah.”
“Is he a client, or—” He waited for her answer but only because she’d turned to face him. Eyes shut, she took what appeared to be a steeling breath.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
His entire body tensed. “Oh?”
“My last name is Palmer. Ike is my grandfather.” She blew out a breath, appearing relieved to admit as much.
“You’ve been holding on to that information for a while.”
“Ike raised me. Here. Before he sold the house, he asked if I was okay with it. I was living with Dustin at the time, and I was so sure that everything was going to work out great.” She lifted and dropped her arms, slapping her hands to her thighs. “I insisted on him selling it. Which I regret.” She added glumly, “No offense.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyebrows closed in as he thought back to how she’d sidestepped the fact that she’d apparently lived here .
“I…I don’t know. At first I was protecting myself, and then I was protecting the agreement we’d made, and now…” She made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. “I should have told you. I’m sorry.”
His anger dissipated when the shine of tears filled her green eyes. Sure, the news had caught him off guard, but in no way was it a dealbreaker. He was beginning to understand that Reagan didn’t lean too hard on anyone when it came to her feelings. She’d crash on a couch or accept the offer for dinner, but when it came time to talk about what was bothering her, she tucked it away to deal with on her own. He’d always had siblings to bounce things off of and couldn’t imagine how hard it’d been for her to rely solely on herself.
“I didn’t expect to show up at my best friend’s apartment last week and find her and her frigging ex-husband having sex on my borrowed couch. So, there went my bed.” She sniffled, clearly trying to keep from crying. “She used to hate him because he cheated on her, and now she says he didn’t. I’ve been sleeping on Ike’s recliner instead, which sucks. Not the recliner. Having to ask him for help. I don’t want him taking care of me. I want to take care of myself, but I haven’t had a lot of luck finding an apartment within my budget.”
He opened his mouth, but she kept on talking.
“Before you offer, I don’t want an advance on my pay. I mean I do , but I haven’t earned it yet. I haven’t done half of what needs to be done around here. I thought working on my old house would feel good. It does, but it’s also—” She paused, clearly navigating around a lump in her throat as the tears she’d kept at bay spilled down her cheeks. “Hard.”
He erased the space between them, wrapping her tightly in his arms. He wasn’t sure if she’d lean on him or not, but she finally sagged against him, giving him her weight.
He kissed her head and then murmured into her hair, “Why didn’t you tell me this shit was going on?”
“I’m not your problem,” came her watery protest before she pulled away. She swiped her eyes with the sides of her fingers and then cleared her throat, pulling herself together in record time. “I’m fine. Honest. This has been building and is overflowing on you. I didn’t want to be an emotional wreck in front of Ike. He’ll worry.”
“You’re right. You’re not my problem. You’re not a problem, period, Reagan. And I’m sure your grandfather feels the same way.”
She blinked away residual tears. “I’m not out of options. There is an apartment complex with an opening. It’s not ideal, but I don’t have much of a choice.”
His shoulders tightened. “What’s not ideal about it?"
She waved a hand dismissively but then said something he could not and would not dismiss. “The last time I did a job in that area, my tools were stolen off my truck. I figure I can carry them in at night and back out in the morning to keep that from happening again.”
“No.”
She frowned. “No?”
“Yeah. No. You risking being robbed while you sleep isn’t ‘not ideal,’ it’s dangerous.”
“Everywhere else has a waiting list. I don’t have two months unless I stay with Ike, and his condo is smaller than Kelly’s apartment. Plus, he’s done enough for me.”
“So you’ve mentioned.” Like there was a limit to how much family would do for each other? He might give Jaylyn shit, but if she needed his help, he’d upend his life to make sure she was taken care of.
He didn’t think Reagan would appreciate a lecture, so he snapped into problem-solving mode instead. Arguably his strongest trait. “I can ask Jaylyn about openings in her building. They moved her in fast.”
“I’m sure the deposit alone is ten times more than the current place I’m looking at moving into.” She gave him a weak smile.
It was on the tip of his tongue to offer her the money to move wherever she damn well pleased, but she’d already warned him against doing just that.
“It’s a bit more of a drive, but don’t worry, I will complete the repairs you hired me to do. This isn’t your problem to solve.”
“I don’t care about the repairs, Reagan.” He cared about her. Since that felt really fucking vulnerable to admit, he said, “You can’t leave.”
Hand on the doorknob, she paused to glare at him.
“I mean, you can …just, you know…don’t. I have a compromise.”
She didn’t run out the door. A good sign.
“Stay here.” He sensed a refusal was coming. She’d made a production out of not taking up too much space, so he didn’t expect her to jump for joy at his offer. “Only until the place you want opens up. I need you here. Have you forgotten that you’re my muse?”
Her smile was paired with an eye roll, but at least they were on the right track.
“Your being here is a bigger help than you know. The silence in this house is maddening. Plus, why stay somewhere you aren’t comfortable? You’re comfortable here. And hey, no commute.”
She folded her arms over her chest, but her smile remained. She took a deep breath and dropped her arms. She was going to say yes, he could feel it. And for whatever reason, beyond the whole “muse” thing, he was personally invested in that yes.
“I can’t ask you to bail me out.”
Evidently, she was going to make him work for it.
“You’re bailing me out.” He put both hands on his chest. “I’m hopeless without you. You slept great here the other night. And I was on my best behavior.”
She pursed her lips, fighting another smile.
“My very best,” he said, laying it on thick. “Trust me, you have no idea how difficult that was for me. I know what a great kisser you are.”
She lost the battle with the smile. Her eyes lit up with it.
“Don’t let your pride talk you out of it. Do you know how many nice people offered me a bed when I was writing my first book?"
“I have no idea. I didn’t read it.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m sure you have a copy around here somewhere.”
“I’ll give you one.”
Her lips twisted.
“I’ll even sign it.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re arrogant?”
“Everyone.”
There was comfort in the shared silence between them. She finally nodded her head. “Okay. Thank you.”
Pride straightened his shoulders. “You’re welcome.”
“Sorry for?—”
“No, no, no, no, no. Do not apologize. Life has a way of handing you your own ass. Lucky for you, you have an incredibly nice ass.”
“I’m familiar with the process of being handed my incredibly nice ass. I am surprised that you can relate.”
“Everyone has problems. Some of us are better at hiding them than others.”
“I’m pretty good at it.”
“You could give me a few pointers.” He tucked his hands into his front pockets. “I’m glad you’re staying.”
“Me too.” She chewed on her cheek before shrugging. “I should finish up so that I can air the paint out of the room before I sleep in it tonight.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to offer his bed…and follow that with an offer of what he’d do to her while she was in it. No better way to shake off the twitch of melancholy than sex. It would be stress-relieving for both of them.
She squinted one eye at him in suspicion.
“I didn’t say anything.” He tried to look innocent.
“No, you didn’t.” On her way back to the guest room, he heard her say, “I’m impressed by your restraint.”
He smiled in her wake, his hands on his hips, his eyes on her ass. A spark of an idea came that, remarkably, had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with his book. Not quite a Eureka! moment, but enough to have him reaching for his laptop.
My muse.
Reagan ordered pizza for dinner so that she didn’t have to think about cooking.
He’d absolutely floored her when he’d offered her his guest bedroom on a semi-permanent basis. She honestly hadn’t seen that coming. As a billionaire bachelor, shouldn’t he prefer that women came and went? She was beginning to wonder if she’d categorized him incorrectly.
She reached into the box for a second slice of pizza, justifying that there were so many vegetables on it that it was practically a salad. As she slid it onto one of the paper plates the delivery guy had thoughtfully provided, she paused to sip from her water bottle.
“You look like you want to ask me something.” Brody lifted the pizza box lid and pulled out another slice—his third if she wasn’t mistaken.
“I do?”
“Yeah.” He dropped the lid and rested his elbows on his knees. They’d chosen to eat in the living room, but there was no TV to watch since it was still sitting on the floor and wrapped in plastic and Styrofoam.
“I was going to ask if you’d like me to help you hang the TV.”
“You want to watch TV?”
“At some point, I assume you will. Or else why did you buy a sixty-five-inch screen?” She took a bite from the pointed end of her pizza slice. They’d opted for a hand-tossed rather than a deep dish, which was practically sacrilegious in Chicago, but that’s what Brody, the New Yorker, preferred.
“I was planning to watch a YouTube video to learn how to do it.”
“The main cause of procrastination is lack of know-how. I can help,” she said after swallowing another bite.
“Is there anything you don’t know how to do?”
“Shelter myself, apparently.”
On cue, he laughed. “I can relate. Trust me.”
“Says the lifelong renter.”
After swallowing down half of his slice, he continued, “I lived in a house before—with my first serious girlfriend. Lindy and I split up shortly after we moved in. We were young. It was a long time ago.”
“That sounds like Dustin and me, though I can’t blame my poor decisions on youth. After months of feeling like I was living alone in his huge, stuffy mansion, I realized I never should have moved in with him.” She shook off her newfound irritation to ask, “Did you sell the house you and your girlfriend moved into, or did she buy it from you?”
“Neither,” he said after a pause. “I gave it to her.”
She stared at him while he chewed. “Like, for free?”
He nodded.
“Wow.”
“Jaylyn gives me shit because I bought two houses and have never bought one for myself until now.”
“Who’d you buy the other house for?”
“My mom.”
“That’s sweet.” Reagan would buy Ike whatever he wanted if she had money.
“And now I find out the first house I bought myself belonged to you.”
“It was never mine.”
“But Ike would have sold to you instead of me if you’d asked.”
“He would have. But then he couldn’t have moved to his dream retirement home on the golf course. I was in deep with my ex at the time. I trusted him, and he ended up being less interested in starting a life with me than he was securing”—she dropped her voice into a dopey baritone to quote Dustin—“‘a stable job in my field of expertise.’” She caught the tail end of a smile from Brody before continuing, “I wasn’t this embittered when he left. I’m pissed at myself and taking it out on him.”
“Have at it. I’m not going to defend that jackass.”
For whatever reason, that got her. She laughed so hard tears pricked the corners of her lids, which reminded her of earlier, when she’d shed tears not of the happy variety.
Sobering from her laughter, she took another sip from her water bottle. “Thank you for letting me stay. I’ve felt particularly unmoored lately. You gave me a home base. You can dock my pay for it.”
“Muse work is serious business. Room and board is an even trade.”
“I’m assuming if I argue with you…”
“You’ll get nowhere. Besides”—he lifted the final slice of pizza and spoke around a bite—“you’re doing me a huge favor. I’m not easy to live with.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d been cooking her meals, flirting shamelessly, and offering to solve her problems. He seemed like he’d be a dream to live with. “I appreciate it. I never want to take advantage of you.”
The slow spread of his smile packed so much sexual suggestion that she had to avert her eyes.
“This house has solid bones,” she said, changing the subject. “Thank you for not knocking it down.”
He blinked, but the smile stayed. “Ever been to Madrid?”
“No.”
“The buildings there are hundreds of years old, and they are crazy beautiful. Could you imagine if they’d knocked down all that history to rebuild contemporary structures on top of the rubble? This house is more than solid bones. It has history. History you were part of— are part of—and that’s important.”
That hit her right in the feels. Suddenly she was too far away. She erased the space between them, scooting from her corner of the sofa to meet him in the middle. He tossed his napkin aside, his eyes on hers expectantly.
“Do you want to—?” she started.
“Yes. Hell, yes. A million times yes.” Firm hands gripped her upper arms, his muscles coiled as if he was ready to strike.
“You don’t know what I was going to ask.”
“Yeah, I do. It’s what I’ve been thinking about all damn day.”
“Hanging the television on the wall?”
He lashed an arm around her waist and rumbled, “Try again.”
“I can’t think of anything else we could do,” she lied, her fingers curling into the fabric of his T-shirt.
“Tell me the truth, Reagan.” They were chest to chest, the low reverberation of his voice causing her nipples to peak. “You want me as bad as I want you, don’t you?”