Chapter 4 #2
Back downstairs, she dished up Phantom’s requested meal—after checking with Marren first—and then wandered into the living room to escape the pungent odor and undignified scarfing sounds.
“I’m going to go get the rest of my bags,” Andrea announced, raising her voice for the cat’s benefit.
“I expect everyone to have the same number of limbs when I get back.”
Crumpet was back on the couch, having decided on the middle cushion.
As Andrea crossed the room to ruffle his ears, she noticed a basket off to the side of the TV that she hadn’t seen on the way in.
Andrea’s smile grew as she poked through the contents, and found a neat stack of Christmas movies and a bottle of cabernet, alongside an assortment of gourmet hot cocoa packets, marshmallows, and microwave popcorn.
A note in flowing script read:
For those nights when work can wait.
~Marren
An hour later, Andrea had her luggage upstairs, a half-eaten box of delivered pizza on the coffee table, and two glasses of wine in her belly.
She was curled up on the sofa under Marren’s impossibly soft throw blanket, a mug of cocoa warming her hands while some predictably terrible romantic comedy played on the TV.
She’d given up on trying to decide what to watch, and let the Hallmark channel fill the quiet space with festive prattle.
Crumpet had claimed the other end of the couch, and Phantom had grudgingly settled on the armchair, watching the movie, though he kept up a running commentary about the male lead’s “obvious lack of emotional intelligence.”
As her eyelids grew heavy, Andrea’s thoughts sorted through the day’s events, a usual routine for her as her mind unwound, though tonight she found her thoughts drifting to a memory of a pair of dark brown eyes and the way they glowed almost green in the warm golden lights of the cozy coffee shop.
She dozed off somewhere between the meet-cute and the inevitable misunderstanding, a soft smile playing across her lips.
Andrea woke to the kind of dull, pounding sound that followed a night of heavy drinking, but her two glasses of wine and mug of Bailey’s-enhanced cocoa from the night before hadn’t been anything close to the level of alcohol she’d consumed during her college-aged antics.
It took her a groggy moment to realize the sound wasn’t coming from inside her skull, and that someone was quite literally pounding on the wall above her head.
She squinted at her phone: nine forty-five in the morning. Then the fog of sleep cleared, and she remembered: Vermont. Townhouse. Black cat currently glaring at her from the foot of the bed.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” Phantom said dryly. “Nice of you to join the rest of us in this fresh hell.”
Correction: Talking cat.
“What is that noise?” Andrea groaned, her mouth dry.
Another thunderous bang echoed through the walls, followed by what sounded like an industrial vacuum cleaner and several men shouting instructions at each other. Andrea pulled a pillow over her head.
Perhaps a better question was how had she slept through any of it?
“Please tell me this is temporary,” she mumbled into the soft cotton pillowcase.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
She peered out at the cat, and he snapped his tail back and forth in a “hurry-up” motion.
“I’d go and ask for myself, but then you’d have a whole other set of problems to deal with.
Marren’s already on the HOA’s list over her propensity to forget to bring back the garbage bins on time, I can only imagine what they’d do if they suspected she had a literal demon living in the building. ”
Andrea blinked, wondering for a moment if she was still dreaming. “You’re a … a demon?”
Marren had neglected to mention the talking part, but surely she would have said something if the cat was indeed some variety of hell spawn.
Wouldn’t she?
Goddess, why didn’t I just book a room at the Marriott? she wondered in the space before Phantom replied.
“Of course not!” the cat sputtered. “But how would they know the difference between a talking witch’s familiar and a demon? They used to burn people at the stake for a whole lot less, and trust me, the HOA banshees would be the type to have front-row seats and a bag of jumbo marshmallows.”
“Fair enough.”
Another spectacular bang had her bolting upright, out of concern the entire wall might cave in on her head.
“Okay, that’s it!” Andrea threw off the covers and shivered as the cool air hit her bare legs and arms. She wore a set of matching shortie pajamas, unable to tolerate the feel of wearing long pants under the covers. “Ack!”
Muttering about locating the thermostat, she stuffed her feet into her shearling-lined slippers and reached for the oversized Foo Fighters sweatshirt she’d shucked off before getting into bed the night before.
It was older than Crumpet, purchased at a concert she’d gone to in her early twenties, and while it was faded and stretched, she still wore it all the time and could never imagine parting with it.
She paused at the top of the stairs, just long enough to dial up the heat, then ground her teeth at another round of pounding sounds, before scurrying downstairs to look out the front windows.
A curled tail and pair of hind legs poked out from beneath the hem of the gauzy white curtains.
“There you are,” she said, as Crumpet turned to look at her, his doggy eyes brimming with concern. “You left me upstairs with a demon,” she told him. “Some guard dog.”
He licked her bare leg as she joined him at the window, and she smiled and scratched his ears. “All right, fine, you’re forgiven.” Then, turning her attention to the window, her scowl returned. “Now, what’s all this?”
She peered through the gap in the curtains and spotted a white work truck parked in the driveway next door, along with what appeared to be an industrial-sized dumpster that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday.
Two men in hard hats and flannel button-up shirts descended the stairs, carrying a large slab of drywall between them.
“Seriously? Who starts a home reno three weeks before Christmas?!”
Another loud boom reverberated off the windows as the two workers tossed the debris into the bottom of the hulking metal dumpster.
“Great. Just great.” Andrea shoved the curtains back into place. “Guess that rules out any plans to make a soufflé.”
Crumpet whined softly and padded to the front door.
“Marren bought that runner on a trip to Scotland, and it’s one of her most prized possessions,” Phantom commented dryly as Crumpet turned in a circle, his nose to the narrow rug. “So, tell Fido not to make a mess.”
“His name is Crumpet,” Andrea said, only briefly wondering why such a prized possession would be placed where people traditionally kicked off their shoes. “But your point has been made.”
She bundled into the thick coat she’d left on one of the hooks by the front door, shoved her socked feet into the brand new winter boots she’d bought for the trip, then grabbed Crumpet’s leash.
“Okay, we’re going to make this quick,” she told her impatient pup as he began hopping up on his hind legs.
With a frustrated grunt, she managed to clip the leash to his collar, then threw open the front door and nearly screamed as the sub-zero gust of air hit her bare legs.
“Hecate preserve me,” Andrea muttered as Crumpet reared back, suddenly not quite as eager to get out and do his business. “Oh no you don’t! You wanted out, so we’re going out. Pee now or forever hold your peace, dog.”
It took some convincing and the promise of chicken jerky, but after a few moments, they made it to the postage stamp yard in front of Marren’s townhouse, where Andrea assumed a patch of grass lay somewhere under the thick layer of snow.
Crumpet craned around and looked at her, as though uncertain what he was expected to do.
The construction noise from the neighboring home was even louder outside. A chorus of power tools had joined the pounding cacophony, and Andrea winced, already feeling the beginnings of a headache percolating.
A solid dose of caffeine would help, but how was she supposed to get any work done with all the racket?
As Crumpet sniffed at a row of snow-covered hedges, Andrea turned and decided she could at least figure out how long the ear-torture was expected to last. Her legs were starting to lose all feeling, blasted by the cold, but she managed to march across the yard and down the patch of sidewalk to the white truck, where a man in jeans and a tan-colored coat that looked far too lightweight for the weather was working to unload some sort of contraption from the bed.
“Excuse me,” she called out, raising her voice to be heard over the din.
The man turned around, and Andrea faltered as a pair of familiar green-brown eyes found hers. It was the handsome stranger from the coffee shop the day before.
“Um, hello,” he said, taking in her strange ensemble with a confused expression, though she thought maybe his gaze lingered on her bare legs a bit before meeting her eyes again. “Wait. I know you. From Rooster’s?”
Crumpet chose that moment to finally relieve himself … right on the rear wheel of the truck.
“Crumpet, no!” Andrea exclaimed as the tiny leg lifted into the air.
It was too late, though, the terrier’s deed already in progress.
“I’m so sorry—he’s a bad boy!” Andrea looked up with wide-eyed horror, only to find the man laughing. Her panic ebbed though the heat remained in her cheeks.
“Don’t worry about it,” the man said, still chuckling under his breath as Crumpet finished his business and kicked up a spray of snow around for good measure. “Looks like you can get back inside now. You’ve got to be freezing.”
His gaze skimmed her legs once more, this time unmistakably.
More heat rushed to Andrea’s cheeks. Why hadn’t she taken the time to put on a proper pair of pants?
“Yeah, a bit,” she admitted. “Um, any idea how long all this—” she gestured at the dumpster, where the two men had returned to offload another batch of debris, “—is going to be going on? I’m staying in the townhouse next door and was hoping to get some work done today.”
The man’s face changed, the humor draining away as he looked past her to the neighboring unit. “Oh, I didn’t realize any of these units were listed for short-term rental.”
“Well, it’s a house swap, technically. I’m here through Christmas.”
She winced as soon as she said it.
Brilliant, Andi, tell the complete stranger how long you’ll be here. Alone. What if he’s some kind of axe murderer?
She reconsidered him as she also reconsidered the thought. He didn’t look like an axe murderer. He looked like a model from an L.L. Bean mailer. His dark waves were tousled and thick, suggesting he’d done little more than run his fingers through it after a shower—
And now she was thinking of him in the shower.
Andi, get a grip! You are not this thirsty.
“I apologize for the noise,” he started, “but unfortunately, it can’t be helped. This is an emergency repair. A pipe burst and caused quite a bit of damage to the primary bathroom.”
Andrea sighed. “I guess that explains why it sounded like a sledgehammer was about to come through the wall over my bed this morning.”
“Look, most of the super loud stuff should be done in the next few days. Once we get the damaged materials out and the space dried, it’ll be quieter.”
A burst of laughter from the other workers drew both their attention. The two men looked over as they trooped back to the house, and one of them made a comment that Andrea couldn’t quite catch but that made his partner crack up.
“Right,” she said, suddenly straightening and tightening the winter coat, as if it could do anything to cover her legs. “I should let you get back to work, then.”
“Here—” the man said, stopping her retreat. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small card. “This is me,” he said, extending it toward her. “I’ll be on site most of the time, but if anything comes up, let me know.”
“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Andrea said, looking at the card.
Wes Thurston
General Contractor
“Wes,” she said, tracing the tip of her nail over the embossed font before sliding the card into the pocket of her coat. “Thanks for this.” She managed what she hoped was a gracious smile. “I’ll figure something out. I’m Andrea, by the way.”
He cracked a lopsided grin, his dimple reemerging on his right cheek, as he leaned over the bed of the truck and resumed tugging on the metal contraption. “Well, you’ve got my number now,” he said, nodding toward her coat pocket. “For emergencies … or otherwise.”
“Otherwise?” She felt a rush of heat rising in her cheeks again. Was he flirting with her? She canted her head to one side. “Like if I need to know where to get the best burger in town?”
He chuckled. “That’s easy. You’ll want Frost & Flame. It’s a pub.”
Andrea laughed. “Good to know.”
One of the workers appeared on the porch and called out to Wes, and he signaled he’d be right there, even as his eyes continued to hold hers for just a beat longer than necessary before he turned and jogged a few paces to catch up to his crew.
As she headed for her own porch a shiver coursed over her, but it wasn’t the kind she could blame on the snow.