Chapter Five
Five
Hannah
Simon’s voice was a low grumble in the kitchen.
I had the distinct feeling he didn’t want me to overhear his conversation.
I wondered if it was a romantic partner.
Probably. It went against the laws of nature that a man that good-looking was single, unless of course he was a jerk. The jury was still out on that verdict.
I tossed my folder onto the table just as Simon had.
I had no idea what half of this house would cost to buy but I doubted I had enough money to make an offer to Simon unless I wiped out my savings and retirement, and took out a loan.
The thought was depressing. I’d worked so hard over the past five years to pull myself out of medical debt and have a stable financial position.
But there was no getting around the fact that given our different feelings about the house, the simplest solution to our problem would be for me to buy him out.
I stood and stretched, clasping my hands together over my head and arching back as far as I could. We’d had a long drive to get here from Asheville today and I was tired. Dude was clearly exhausted, judging by his snores.
I wandered around the room, listening to the rain.
It should have soothed me but it didn’t.
Potentially, it was because I could hear Simon on the phone.
His answers were monosyllabic and there was a strain in his voice that made it clear the conversation wasn’t going well.
Perhaps his partner was upset to find out he was here with an unexpected female housemate. I couldn’t say I’d blame them.
The afternoon’s watery light wasn’t helping the mood in the cottage.
This was all so different from what I’d expected.
I’d imagined Dude and I arriving at a quaint little cottage by the sea, opening the door and being welcomed by the essence of Pops.
Instead, we were here with a brooding hot guy who seemed more than a little put out by my presence.
Sorry, not sorry, my guy, but it’s my house, too.
I made my way into the dining room and admired the hutch.
Behind the glass doors was a full set of Lenox white china with silver edges, and on the top of the walnut cabinet with rounded corners was a row of Pops’s local Emmy Awards from his news anchor days.
He’d brought his awards here? How strange.
He never put them on display in his house in Rhode Island.
Maybe here he was freer to celebrate his accomplishments.
I reached up and took one down. It looked just like the Emmy Award they gave out in Hollywood and it was heavier than I expected.
There was something hanging off the back of the globe.
Thinking it was a dust bunny, I went to wipe it away.
My fingers brushed a warm furry body and I screeched.
The little thing flapped its wings and I yelped and jumped, dislodging the bat—a bat!
—from its perch. As it fluttered up toward the ceiling, I dropped the statue, crouched low, and ran out of the room, still screaming.
“What the hell, Spencer?” Simon appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “Are you being murdered?”
“Bat!” I panted. “There’s a bat. In there. Alive.”
He squinted at me. “You sure? It’s pretty dark in there.”
“It. Flew. At. Me.” I gritted out each word around the pounding of my heart.
“Did he, though?” Simon asked, his voice filled with doubt. “I’m sure you scared him more than he scared you.”
I glared at him and shook my head. “Nope. Not possible.”
Dude had lifted his head but upon seeing me unharmed, he rolled over and promptly went back to sleep. So helpful.
Simon glanced past me into the room. “I don’t see him.”
“I think he went back up onto the hutch,” I said. “There are some statues up there that make good perches, apparently.”
Simon glanced from the top of the hutch to me and back. Then he nodded and retreated back to the safety of the living room, exactly where I wanted to be.
“Let me know when you get him out of there.” Simon sat down on one of the recliners and began to thumb through his phone.
“Are you serious right now, O’Malley?” I wanted to kick him. “Might I remind you that this is your house, too, so if there’s a bat in here—”
“There’s probably a colony of bats in here.”
“What?” I instinctively covered my head with my hands.
“A group of bats is called a colony and there’s probably more than one, don’t you think?” Simon glanced from his phone to me and then back down to his phone. “I mean, the place has been empty for a while, right?”
“The last time Pops was here was four months ago,” I said.
“And it was longer than that for Gramps.” He nodded. “Yeah, there’s probably a colony.”
“We have to get them out!” I resented the slight note of hysteria that crept into my voice.
“Do we?” he asked. “I mean, if we were to sell…”
“I’m not selling.” I fisted my hands at my hips. I had the sudden urge to wring his thick neck.
“Even if there’s a bat infestation?”
I was unable to stop the shiver that racked my body from head to toe. “There isn’t. It’s just one little guy who took a wrong turn down the chimney or something.” I pointed to the small fireplace in the corner.
“You’re likely right.” He continued scrolling through his phone. “Good luck with that.”
I was definitely going to kick him. Fine. Be that way. I could handle a bat on my own. He’d just startled me. I would catch him and set him free. Easy-peasy.
I snatched the towel I’d used earlier to dry off and returned to the dining room.
I hesitated for just a moment, but knowing O’Malley was watching me, I pushed through it.
I was doing a good deed, I told myself. The little bat needed to be outside to survive and thrive.
He was probably lost and alone and stuck in this house.
I would rescue him. I would be a hero. Newly motivated, I stepped into the room.
The gloom of the rainy day was not helping me see into the shadows and I didn’t want to scare him by shining my phone flashlight. I assumed he had gone back to his perch above the hutch as there weren’t any other hiding spots in the small room.
As quietly as possible I moved a chair from the dining set to the hutch.
I clutched the towel in my hands and stepped on the seat of the chair.
Slowly, I straightened until I was standing and could see over the edge of the wooden cabinet.
I squinted into the shadows, trying to find my new friend.
I wondered if I should just throw the towel over the trophies and hope I got him, but I didn’t want the little dude to be impaled by one of the golden angels’ lightning wings.
I scanned the shadows, trying to see if the wee bat had found a new perch.
My heart was racing and my hands were sweaty.
It wasn’t that I was afraid of bats; it was that I was terrified.
Not fair to the bats, I know. But once when I was a kid, my friends and I found a bat on the sidewalk on its back and Blake Tedeski poked it with a stick and the poor thing flew right at me just missing my hair.
I hadn’t felt easy around bats ever since.
But this was just a tiny little fellow not much bigger than a mouse, and Dude and I had handled plenty of mice, especially that one spring when we’d been caught in a surprise snow at Glacier National Park and the little ones had found a way into the van to keep warm.
If I could wake up with three mice curled up on the pillow next to me, I could handle one little bat. Right? Right.
I thought about insisting Simon help me as it was his house, too.
But I didn’t want him to mistake me for some fragile female who needed a man’s help with anything that scurried.
Also, I got the distinct impression that he wouldn’t, and I didn’t need that sort of rejection right now.
He’d looked irritated by my shriek but I suspected that hadn’t been what annoyed him and rather it had been whatever phone conversation he’d had.
A jealous girlfriend? Annoyed boss? Who knew what he had going on. He was, after all, completely unknown to me.
I focused on the task at hand. Lifting the towel up, I waited to see if my little friend would make an appearance so I could grab him.
There was a shift in the shadows and I stifled my yelp, closing my eyes for a second to calm myself before moving the towel closer to where I’d seen the movement.
I closed in, leaning over the edge of the hutch while raising the towel.
I was certain the little guy was hanging off the statue in back.
If I could just drop the towel on him I could scoop him up and get him outside.
“Okay, count of three,” I muttered. “One, two, ahhhh!”
The bat dropped off the statue and flew straight at me.
Straight. At. Me. I dodged out of the way, forgetting I was on a chair, and the next second I was windmilling to catch my balance as the bat flew out of the dining room, around the corner, and up the stairs.
I braced for the impending fall but found myself plucked out of midair by a pair of strong arms. Simon.
He staggered a bit under my weight, which I liked to think was more my momentum than my pounds, but he steadied himself within a couple of steps and glanced down at me with a beleaguered look that I was beginning to think was his permanent state.
“Really, Spencer? I’m embarrassed for you.” He removed his arm from beneath my knees, dropping my feet to the floor and stepping back as if he couldn’t wait to get away from me. Rude.
“He flew right at me.” My voice was justifiably defensive. “And then he flew upstairs.”
Simon rolled his eyes and tipped his head back as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Granted, it was not my finest moment but I was confident that if the bat had flown directly at him, the result would have been the same.
“Are you going to go upstairs and get him?” Simon asked.