Chapter 7
SEVEN
“Lucy, I remember how much you loved our AP U.S. History class.” Allie gestured toward the third tiny house offering. “What a wonderful way to incorporate that enthusiasm into your daily life!”
Lucy had loved biology too, but she didn’t plan to live inside a dissected frog anytime soon. Or a deflated kickball, to mark her enjoyment of PE. Still, she had to appreciate the builder’s considerable expertise and attention to detail.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more convincing replica of a covered wagon,” she said.
Covered wagon replicas, she’d found, were few and far between. Nonexistent, actually, before this very special moment in her life.
“This wagon comes in only four thousand above your top budget, and it’s a bargain for the price. Let’s go inside and see all the amazing features this tiny house offers.” Allie bounded up the wooden steps, the crew following close behind.
Sebastián propped his fists on his hips. “Ah, yes. A covered wagon tiny house. For when you want to recreate the circumstances of the Donner Party in style.”
She didn’t think she’d ever heard him offer his opinion quite so freely before. “You don’t know. The inside of the wagon could make dying of typhoid or drowning while fording a river look glamorous.”
“Yes, maybe this is the Ritz-Carlton of covered wagons. At that price, I’d hope so.” His hand rested on the small of her back, warm and strong. “I suppose we should find out for sure.”
He’d become considerably more touchy-feely over the past several days. Not even counting that unexpected massage, whose ending she considered decidedly unhappy. After all these years, she’d had his hands on her bare skin and fallen asleep?
Shaking her head, she let him nudge her toward the wooden steps.
Only to pause inside the front entrance as she registered the wagon’s décor.
Wood. Wood everywhere, along with dead animals’ heads.
She’d seen hunting trophies before, but never ones where the poor deer and bears appeared quite so traumatized.
And was that…oh, goddess help them both.
Sebastián leaned over her shoulder to read the inscription below the ax and knife collection mounted to the wall. “‘For when the tiny house hunter becomes the tiny house hunted.’ Huh.”
“The trophies are removable, of course.” Allie didn’t make eye contact with any of the animals. “That should provide ample wall space for additional storage. Although the seller offered to include them in the sale for an additional fee.”
“Whatever you do, don’t look into the stew pot,” he whispered into Lucy’s ear, the tickle of his breath delicious. “It may contain the remains of previous potential buyers. Or maybe the other members of the wagon train.”
“The dry sink is so convenient for washing.” Allie had moved a few steps further into the wagon. “This is a fantastic opportunity to live off the grid.”
Licking her lips, Lucy attempted to interpret real estate agent code. “Does that mean there’s no running water or electricity in this wagon?”
“Not…” Allie’s shoulders slumped. “Not at the moment. But just look at the beautiful wood carvings the owner incorporated into the master trundle bed. How clever to put a bed beneath a bench!”
Sebastián’s eyebrows rose. “The master trundle bed? Is there a second one for guests?”
Allie straightened and glared at him. “No. But—”
“Unless I’m mistaken,” he interrupted, his voice low and tight, “those carvings appear to depict a man slaughtering his enemies in their sleep.”
“That’s…” Her swallow was audible. “That’s correct.”
Given how much Lucy hated arguments, she should really intervene before the antagonism between Allie and Sebastián mounted further. Then again, it turned out she also hated Covered Wagons of Death, so this was a tough call.
Screw it. She was tired, and he was magnificent with his emotions unguarded, his dark eyes snapping, and his cheeks ruddy with anger. Rocking back on her heels, Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and decided to enjoy the unanticipated show. Sebastián had clearly eaten his Wheaties that morning.
His jaw like stone, he glowered at Allie.
“So you’re telling me you’re showing Lucy, your vegetarian friend of over thirty years, your faithful friend who trusted you to find a workable house for her, an option that’s above her price range and doesn’t feature electricity or running water or a real bed, but does include various terrorized dead animals and the artistic handiwork of a crazed, possibly murderous Oregon Trail enthusiast? ”
“Please stop filming,” Allie said. “Lucy, I need a word with you in private.”
He was having none of it. “No. You’re not dragging her off to make her feel guilty for refusing the terrible options you’ve shown her. She deserves better than that, especially from you. Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of me and the entire crew.”
Allie whirled on him. “I suppose talking for her, instead of letting her speak for herself, makes you a better friend?”
Oh, fuck. The cameras were still rolling despite Allie’s request, the crew intent on capturing the drama. Both Allie and Sebastián were going to be very, very unhappy if this argument became fodder for national conversation.
And honestly, they were both right. This tiny house option was unacceptable, but Lucy should be the one to articulate that, not Sebastián. Time to stop avoiding the inevitable.
“Enough.” Lucy stepped between them. “Allie, let’s go outside, as you suggested. Jill, could you please stop filming?”
At Jill’s signal, the boom mic operator and the cameraman and camerawoman put down their equipment. They didn’t appear happy about it, though.
“Lucy—” Sebastián started to follow the two women outside.
She swung back to him. “No. I can do this myself. Trust me, Seb.”
“I do.” His mouth tight, he stopped moving. “But I can help.”
Unable to resist the impulse, she got on her tippy-toes to give him a grateful kiss. One planted safely on the cheek, of course. No point in revisiting the humiliation of yesterday.
“I need to help myself, I think.” She tried to smile. “Soon, you won’t be around to protect me.”
His jaw worked, and he turned away. “Fine. Call out if you need me.”
After she and Allie had walked a good distance from the wagon, she stopped, took a deep breath, and made herself begin a difficult conversation.
“I know there aren’t a ton of tiny house options on the market right now within my price range, at least none that are already built.
But have you seen any other choices? Like a yurt, for example? ”
A flush had bloomed on her friend’s chest, above the silk of her shell. “We had a plan, Lucy. Why are you making this harder on both of us?”
Lucy shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“We talked about this.” Allie huffed out a breath. “You’d apply for the show, and I’d be your real estate agent. You’d get to be on TV and spend time with the boy who got away, and I’d take my career to the next level. It’s really not that difficult. Or it wasn’t, until you made it difficult.”
Lucy gaped at her friend. How in goddess’s name had Allie gotten everything so wrong?
“I didn’t choose this experience to get myself on TV. I could take or leave the cameras.” She bit her lip. “I didn’t apply to spend time with Sebastián, either. I need a house, Allie.”
Although, now that she thought back on that initial, wine-soaked conversation about the show, she hadn’t agreed to apply until Allie had mentioned Sebastián as someone Lucy could recruit as help.
She’d known he wouldn’t refuse her, not with such a stressful and important task, no matter how much he prized his privacy.
This show had bought them three full days together. More than they’d had since those endless summers as teenagers. Had that been her subconscious aim all along?
“And I need to support my children in a slow housing market, since their dad’s a deadbeat.
” Allie’s hands had clenched into fists.
“All you had to do was pretend for three days, maybe four. Help the filming go smoothly, so I could pick up my kids on time. Find nice things to say about each of the options, even if you hated them. Make believe you were considering them. I thought you, of all the Pollyannas in the world, could do that to support me.”
The amethyst slid into Lucy’s palm, slick and cool. “I’m so sorry.”
She was, sincerely. Allie was clearly desperate to make a name for herself and claw her way toward financial stability, and Lucy—selfishly—hadn’t considered childcare issues any of the times she’d interrupted filming.
Still, she couldn’t afford to playact through the process, for obvious reasons. “I need a house, though. Not as a ploy to snag my high school BFF, but because I’m moving soon. Can’t you find me something workable?”
Allie threw her hands in the air. “Do you honestly think I haven’t tried?
Do you really think I’m such an incompetent real estate agent that I showed you a dilapidated pot shack, the dick bus, and a covered wagon because I thought those were good options?
You have a strict timeline, so you don’t want to custom-build something.
You have a low budget. I had very little notice before filming began, and I can’t produce a perfect tiny house out of thin air, Lucy.
I even asked the producers for other options, and they didn’t give me any. ”
Shit. Lucy dropped her chin to her chest, feeling an inch high.
“I sold your condo for above asking price in less than a week.” Allie’s voice rose. “Can’t you just try to play ball, instead of living in some na?ve wonderland where you can have exactly what you want without a few compromises? Can’t you face reality and think, for once?”
A familiar accusation, and one that stung more than it should have.