Chapter 2
When Nikolaos Petrakis thought about Merritt Valentine, the first word that came to mind was sharp.
Sharp jaw, sharp chin, sharp nose, sharp cheekbones jutting like cliffs.
Her lips were a problem, though. They obviously hadn’t gotten the message.
They were lush and rosy and soft looking, though he knew from experience they were likely concealing a tongue sharper than everything else put together.
Which was why, even with her back to him, he was having such a hard time concentrating as she led him through the house.
Her hair looked soft, too, dark brown and wavy, shot through with silver like Christmas tinsel.
He forced himself to focus on what she was saying before his mind drifted far enough to consider the relative softness of anything below her neck.
Not that he hadn’t considered it before. But this was not the time.
He realized too late that she’d stopped talking and turned to look at him, waiting for a response. Amber eyes blinked warily from behind oversized tortoiseshell glasses.
He cleared his throat. “Good bones,” he commented, nodding thoughtfully and gazing around the kitchen. She raised an eyebrow and kept walking.
It was something of an understatement. The house was a local landmark, known around town as “The Mollusk,” designed by an eccentric and internationally renowned architect in the early eighties.
The first time Niko had seen it, he’d thought it looked like a Bond villain’s lair, or like a wizard had docked their flying ship on the side of the mountain and forgotten about it.
The three-story split-level was bursting with quirky architectural details everywhere he looked, walls and ceilings and windows swooping and curving into the most unexpected arrangements.
It had been on the market for years before Merritt had scooped it up, too large and too bizarre and too precariously perched on the edge of the mountain for most people to know what to make of it.
Even if he couldn’t help her out, Niko would’ve accepted Merritt’s invitation just for a chance to see the interior.
Of course, he probably would’ve accepted her invitation to tour the inside of a barrel, but that was beside the point.
He snuck another look at her, the sun glinting off the delicate silver rings and studs lining the outer edges of her ears. She’d been all business from the moment he’d pulled up, her face tense and serious, leading him through the house at a brisk pace.
She cast her eyes around the living room, occasionally settling on him before quickly flicking them away.
Her hands moved constantly even when she stood still—intertwining at her back, then fluttering up to rest briefly at her hips before crossing tightly over her chest. Just when he thought she was done, she propped one against her cheek as she thought.
“Could we get the fireplaces working again?” She cocked her head toward a boarded-up mantel, her hand drifting down to rub the back of her neck absently.
“Sure.” He looked down at the grungy beige wall-to-wall carpet that extended down the stairs. “And you want all this to go?”
“Definitely. You think it’s hardwood under there?”
“Probably not, but we can figure something else out.” He glanced out an enormous crescent-shaped window overlooking a breathtaking view of the mountains. “All these windows are pretty irregular; were you thinking about doing custom shutters?”
“Maybe. Curtains would probably be easier, right? And cheaper.”
Niko shrugged. “I could do it at cost. Wouldn’t be too hard.”
He winced as soon as he said it. Why did he offer that? He wasn’t exactly in a position to commit to that kind of project for free.
Her eyes widened, then she shook her head. “I couldn’t let you do that. I mean, the shades, yes, please. But that’s a ton of work; of course I’ll pay for your time and everything.”
He flipped open his notebook. The house was in decent shape, and most of the renovations were minor: new light fixtures, new kitchen appliances, new HVAC, tankless water heater, repaint all the walls, redo the bathrooms, update the tile and countertops.
Beneath the last item, he scrawled “fireplaces,” “pull up carpets,” and “window shades.”
“Anything else you want me to take a look at?”
She hesitated. “Yeah, actually. One more thing. Downstairs.”
The bottom floor of the house was another, smaller rec room, which led to a bedroom with two sets of built-in bunk beds lining the walls.
“I think I want to take these out and knock down the wall in between to make it one big room. But do you think that’s too ambitious?”
He shook his head. “Totally doable. Is this where you want to keep all your instruments and stuff?”
She shot him a startled glance, then looked away just as quickly. “Um, I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Niko studied her, unsure where he’d gone wrong. Was it because he’d let on that he knew who she was? Because he didn’t—not really.
When she’d first moved to Crested Peak, he’d overheard enough gossip about her to figure out she was famous, or had been at some point.
For what, it hadn’t been exactly clear. It seemed too obvious for anybody to mention.
He’d never cared much about celebrities, though, and after a while, everyone else got used to it and stopped talking about her.
And since she was either ignoring or glaring at him every time they were around each other, it seemed like he’d missed the boat to find out directly from the source.
A couple of days after first running into Merritt in her bathroom, he’d gotten a drink with Dev. Niko had brought her up casually, or so he thought. He couldn’t even remember what he’d said. Maybe something in his face had given him away. But Dev’s expression had clouded over immediately.
“What?”
Dev had looked down at his beer.
“Look. I’m not trying to say anything bad about her.
I like her a lot. I do. She’s just…she can be a little…
messy. Like worse than Helene. I don’t know, man.
It’s a small town. She’s Olivia’s sister.
If something happens with you two, or goes sour, or something…
I just don’t want to lose you as a friend.
” He took a pull from the bottle and shrugged, seemingly embarrassed by his candor.
“I can’t tell you what to do. If you’re interested in her, go for it.
I get it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. ”
Niko had been rattled that Dev had jumped from an offhand mention of Merritt’s name straight to their inevitable nasty breakup. It was more dramatic than even-keeled Dev usually got.
The warning had flashed neon red behind his eyes the next time he saw her, in the grocery store.
Even so, it was like his body moved on its own, propelled down the aisle toward her by some unseen force.
When it became clear that she wasn’t interested in talking to him, it was almost a relief. She’d made the choice for him.
Dev was right, anyway. Niko had long ago adopted an informal policy not to get involved with his fellow locals anymore.
Crested Peak had a constant flow of visitors, taking advantage of the slopes in the winter and the hiking trails in the summer.
It wasn’t hard to limit himself to flings with tourists in town for a week or two, or with the ski bums who came out to work for a couple of seasons if he wanted something a little more long-term.
Besides, he didn’t know anything about Merritt except that she was pretty and messy and some kind of famous and, of course, sharp. It was easy enough to keep his distance.
Until she’d called him.
“I guess that’s everything,” she said, shifting her weight. “What do you think? Can you get it all done in under nine months?”
“Oh, for sure.” His eyes flicked to her midriff, obscured and mysterious behind her coat. “Nine months? Are you…? Because you might want to keep this a kid’s room, then.”
“What? Oh. No. I’m not, Olivia is.” She groaned and covered her eyes with her hands. “Fuck. I need to stop telling people that.”
Niko cocked his head. “Wait, is she or isn’t she?”
Merritt sighed, dropping her hands to rest on her stomach. “She is, but it’s still early. It’s still kind of a secret, I think.”
Niko grinned. “No shit. That’s great.”
The corner of Merritt’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” She turned on her heel and strode out of the room, leaving him trailing after her again.
They found themselves back in the driveway, leaning against their respective cars, with enough distance between them that Merritt had to raise her voice to be heard.
“So do I…should we sign a contract, or something?”
Niko shrugged. “I can get you the first estimate soon, but I usually just do a handshake agreement. I haven’t done a project this size before, though. If it would make you more comfortable…?”
She shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I, um.
I trust you.” She dipped her eyes to the gravel as she said it, which meant it took her a few seconds to notice his outstretched hand.
“Oh. I thought that was just a figure of speech.” Still, she hoisted herself upright and met him halfway, her other arm still wrapped protectively around her middle.
He knew his hands were rougher than most people’s and that he ran hot, generally.
That had to be why her palm felt so impossibly cool and smooth against his, her rings gently clicking together as her long, graceful fingers curled toward his wrist. After being distracted by her hands all afternoon, it was weirdly satisfying to finally touch them—touch one, at least. Satisfying, but also whatever the opposite of satisfying was.
Maybe he was imagining it, but it seemed like her breathing shifted.
She was looking down at their joined palms with an odd expression.
Reluctantly, he released her before it turned from a businesslike handshake into just plain holding hands.
She backed against her car, fingers swiping in vain against the air until she finally found the door handle. She cleared her throat.
“I only have one set of keys right now, but I can make you copies next time I go into Silverton.”
Niko opened his own door, resting his forearm on it and turning back to her. “I’m actually headed there now to pick up some supplies for another job. I could do it, if you want.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s not a problem.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s, um. Thank you.” She fished the keys out of her purse and tossed them to him. He stretched his arm up, but her aim was off, and they landed at least a foot to his left, sending up a cloud of dust. She grimaced. “Sorry.”
“S’okay.” He bent down to pick them up. They were connected by a plastic banana key chain bearing a cartoon face topped by thick furry eyebrows and googly eyes.
He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. It seemed jarring to think of Merritt, so tense and severe, picking it up in a store and taking it home.
He shook it a little in his hand, watching the pupils jiggle, and looked up to see Merritt observing him with a perturbed look on her face.
It must have been the googly eyes that possessed him to blurt out, “Do you want to come?”
She blinked, her expression unreadable. “Come?”
“To Silverton. They have that big home supply store there; you could look at tiles and paint swatches and stuff. Might get the process going a little faster.”
Despite the cold, a bead of sweat trickled down his spine as he waited for her response. She was silent for so long, her brows knitted together and lips pursed, that he was close to just telling her to forget it. He didn’t know why he’d even asked.
But then she met his eyes again, and for the first time all day, her face relaxed into something resembling a smile.
“Sure. Okay.”