Chapter 4 #5
“Sure.” Poppy leaned back and lifted her face to the sun, enjoying summer’s residual heat. She loved this time of the year, when the days were still hot but the air held the softest bite, as if summer was taking a couple of deep breaths before sliding away.
Talking about moving on… What now, McMaster?
The first thing to do was to persuade Thom to let her stay. But how?
She’d try the easy way first. “I confirm that you are indeed the owner of the inn,” she said, trying her best not to sound annoyed or confrontational.
He didn’t look up from his phone. “You knew that the moment I told you,” he countered. “You were just being stubborn and contrary.”
His words held enough truth to bite, and Poppy gritted her teeth. Don’t respond, McMaster, don’t take the bait. “I needed to make sure,” she stated.
“Sure.” She’d never thought that one word could contain so much sarcasm, but Thom managed the impossible.
Just drink your coffee and breathe, Poppy. Count to ten. Not calm yet? Then count to twenty. Thirty, if you have to.
“I’d like to stay at the inn,” she said, a minute later. “I need to find the pearl.”
“I suspect that you either have the pearl or you were bullshitting about the number of pearls on that string in the first place. As for staying? No.”
Damn, so he’d clocked that lie, too? Huh. Annoying.
And how could he say no so quickly? Couldn’t he give it some thought?
What had happened to the laughing, reasonable, thoughtful boy she’d known?
Had he always been this sarcastic, rude, and stubborn?
Or did she just bring it out in him now?
And could he look at her when he spoke to her?
Every adult knew that it was bad manners to scroll and talk at the same time.
“I’ll pay you. Whatever the B it meant trouble was coming her way.
“What’s the catch?”
“You haven’t lost your instincts,” he replied, mild approval coating his words, “because there is a catch.”
She rolled her index finger, silently telling him to get on with it. He stood up, slipped his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, and folded his arms. “You can stay in your old bedroom, your old bed is still in it, but you will have to share my bathroom.”
She could live with that. But she still didn’t know the price she’d have to pay.
She repeated her rolling-finger action and kept her eyes locked on his. “I’ll cover your food,” he continued, “but you’re going to earn your keep by helping me with the renovations.”
Her eyebrows flew up. She wasn’t a DIY type of girl.
If there was a plug to be changed, she called in an electrician; she had her guy friends replace lightbulbs and change tires for her.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t accomplish some tasks or didn’t understand them; it wasn’t rocket science.
They simply bored her. She could always think of fifty other things she’d rather do.
“You’d trust me with power tools?” she asked.
Horror jumped into his eyes and tightened his jaw. “Shit, no! You’re not getting within six feet of a power tool.”
“Then I don’t understand what I can do for you,” she stated, genuinely confused.
Thom’s smile was pure snark. “I have about a hundred windowsills that all need hand sanding, and even you couldn’t hurt yourself with a piece of sanding paper and a block,” he said. “You can sweep up after me, carry stuff, strip wallpaper. You know, grunt work, everything I hate doing.”
Yay.
Poppy climbed to her feet and scuffed at the pavement with the toe of her new sneaker. When she imagined staying at the inn, she thought she could paint down by the lake, sit on the porch and embroider, gather her thoughts while journaling, letting her thoughts untangle as she relaxed.
She couldn’t imagine figuring out life’s big questions while working as Thom’s skivvy.
“You could always just find somewhere else to stay,” he said, sounding bored.