Apparently, Landon heard it too, because he looked to Waverly and said, "Is there something you want to say?"
But it wasn't Waverly who answered. It was Brody. In a deadly calm voice, he told Landon, "She's not interested."
I gave him an annoyed look. "I never said that."
Brody replied, "Yeah, but you will."
"Oh, so now you're a psychic."
With a low scoff, he said, "Better a psychic than a psycho."
I gave him the squinty-eye. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing that a lit match won't solve." His gaze hardened. "Isn't that right?"
"Oh, for God's sake," I said. "It wasn't a match. It was a lighter."
And the lighter wasn't even mine. It was Brody's. But that was an argument for another time – when I wasn't defending my own sanity.
I looked back to Landon and explained, "In high school, I accidentally set fire to Brody's truck."
"Accident, my ass," Brody said.
I whirled to face my high-school nemesis. "Oh yeah? And what about you? You practically blew us up."
Brody reached up to rub the back of his neck. "It wasn't that bad."
"Oh yeah?" My voice rose. "Tell that to my missing eyebrows."
He shrugged like this was no big deal. "Hey, they grew back."
"Not in time for graduation!"
It was true. In all of my senior pictures, there I was, with painted eyebrows, because my real eyebrows had gotten so singed, they were practically invisible.
On top of that, my perfect G.P.A. had been ruined by the fact that I'd not only failed my senior chemistry project, I'd been suspended for two whole weeks and wasn't allowed to make up all of my work.
One little boom – or more accurately one ginormous boom – and all of my plans went up in smoke.
Now, years later, I was still suffering the consequences.
As far as the boom itself, it was a huge miracle that no one had been seriously hurt. Against all odds, I hadn't been injured so much as made to look ridiculous. And Brody? He'd gotten away utterly unscathed. As usual.
We were still going back and forth when Waverly's voice cut through our bickering. "Enough already!"
In unison, Brody and I turned to look.
Sometime in the last minute or so, she'd sidled closer to Landon. Her lips thinned as she eyed me like I was something to be scraped off her pricy shoes – which, yes, were looking just a little greener than before.
Hah! Take that, City Slicker.
Still, I waited in polite silence, not because she'd asked for it, but because it suddenly occurred to me that I was arguing in front of a stranger – two strangers, actually. Or three, if I wanted to include Roy.
I glanced around, but saw no sign of him.
Well, that was weird.
And now, Waverly was saying to Landon, "This will never work." She gave a shaky laugh. "Seriously, just look at them. They'll be at each other's throats."
Landon smiled like this wasn't such a bad thing. "We'll see."
Brody looked to Landon and said, "You're forgetting something."
Looking only mildly curious, Landon replied, "Really? What's that?"
"Arden hasn't accepted. And trust me." Brody gave me a look filled with warning. "She won't."
His message was clear. If I knew what was good for me, I'd decline the unexpected offer. But didn't Brody get it? Thanks to him, I had nearly nothing to lose.
Obviously, the house would be fixed up regardless of anything I said or did. Plus, at the moment, I had no job and no place to live.
I'd be a fool to turn this down.
Then again, I wasn't quite sure what the offer was.
At something in my gaze, Landon said, "Don't worry. I'll make it worth your while. You got an email address?"
When I rattled off the address, he gave another nod. "Check it in an hour. You'll have my offer." He smiled. "I look forward to your acceptance." And then, looking strangely satisfied, he turned and strode off toward the limo.
Just before he reached it, a uniformed driver materialized out of the front seat and held open a rear door while Landon Tarrington climbed inside.
As the limo backed out of the driveway, Brody looked to me and said, "You're not taking it. You know that, right?"
I crossed my arms. "Oh yeah? Why not?"
"Because you'll be a distraction, and you damn well know it. You want the house done, right?"
"Oh, please," I said. "It's going to be done regardless. I'm not falling for that again."
To his credit, Brody didn't ask what I meant. Obviously, he knew.
We both did.
Less than a day ago, he'd used my love of the house against me – to humiliate me, to make me beg, to drive me more than a little crazy.
But I wasn't crazy. I was smart – smarter than he knew. Already, a plan was forming in my mind. I'd just graduated from college, and I hadn't yet found a job. But today I had been offered one, as a consultant no less.
It was a nice title. It would look terrific on a resume, especially with the show's brand-name recognition. Plus, the job was temporary, which meant that it would offer me the perfect opportunity to look for something permanent while earning an actual income.
Brody's voice – sounding more irritated than ever – interrupted my thoughts. "It's gonna be a worksite. There's no glamor in it."
I made a show of looking down at my clothes. They were streaked with dirt and grass clippings. My hands were stained green, and I was a hot sweaty mess.
I knew exactly how I looked, and it wasn't glamorous.
But didn't he get it? Glamor meant nothing to me in the big scheme of things.
With a stiff smile, I informed him, "I'm taking the job."
His jaw clenched. "But you don't know what it is."
This was true. But it didn't matter. If it offered any sort of paycheck, I would be taking it. Sure, I'd be dealing with Brody, which would be no picnic. But hey, I had experience with that sort of thing.
In some ways, it would be a repeat of
