Score one for Brody, huh?
The way it looked, he'd finally gotten his revenge, served nice and cold, too. The jerk had bought my legacy – the family homestead – right out from under me.
At the realization, I felt like screaming. Or crying. I still couldn’t decide which.
The whole thing was so incredibly unfair. Brody could've bought a million homes. But me, I only wanted one.
This one.
I wanted to build a life here, and if I met a nice guy, maybe even a family. Who knows, I might've filled the house with kids of my own someday.
I shoved a hand through my wet hair and tried to think. Maybe there was still hope. Maybe he'd only bought the house to fix it up. Maybe he planned to sell it afterward.
At the thought, my pulse quickened. Maybe I could buy it.
Sure, I had no money, but I had graduated from college – just last week, in fact. I had a decent degree, too – in business administration.
All I needed now was a job. Unfortunately, jobs hadn't been so easy to find, especially since I'd been hoping to find one here in my hometown.
I'd been hoping for a lot of things. But all I'd found was trouble, and plenty of it.
In front of me, Brody said, "You can start explaining any time now."
"Oh yeah?" My chin lifted. "Well, maybe I don't owe you an explanation."
At this, he looked almost ready to laugh. He eyed me up and down, taking in my wet hair and disheveled appearance. "You sure about that?"
Heat flooded my face. "Alright, fine. I guess you have a point, assuming you're not lying about the house thing."
"Which I'm not."
To my ever-growing despair, I actually believed him. Back in high school, Brody had been a lot of things, but never a liar.
I sighed. "Alright, fine. I'll tell you. But first tell me one thing, okay?" I bit my lip. "Assuming you truly did buy the house, are you planning to live here? Or sell it? I mean, after you fix it up or whatever."
With cool deliberation, Brody took a long look around, as if seeing the place for the first time. As he did, I tried to see it through his eyes.
Counting the attic, the house was three stories. At the moment, Brody and I were standing on the second floor near the open staircase. The staircase was original to the house, but rickety here and there, just like everything else.
Around us, the plaster was in need of patching, and that dark spot in the ceiling could only mean a roof leak.
Still, the bones of the house were good. Very good. And the location – right here on the Saginaw Bay – was another huge bonus.
It was beachfront property, which was, sadly, one of the reasons I hadn't been able to buy it on my own. In spite of its less-than-pristine condition, the property's value was shockingly high, just like the taxes.
I knew, because I'd been paying them for the last three years. Or at least, I thought I'd been paying them. I'd been giving the money to Jason, who'd been hitting me up far too often for home-related expenses.
This latest round had cost me my car. But hey, cars were replaceable, right?
As for Brody, he was still looking around.
The fact that he hadn't yet answered was making me a little nervous. Was he deciding right now?
I held my breath and waited.
Finally, he said something that sent my heart straight into my throat. "Hard to say." He shrugged. "This place? Might not be worth saving."
Chapter 6
Brody
In front of me, Arden sucked in a breath. "What?"
I stared down at her. Oh man, the look on her face was priceless. It was probably the same look I'd had back in high school, when she'd torched my pickup.
I smiled. "Is there a problem?"
Her hair was long, dark, and dripping wet. In high school, thick bangs had covered her forehead. Not anymore – or at least not the way it was combed now. She was wearing black jeans, a little red T-shirt, and red sneakers – the old-fashioned kind. She wore no makeup.
Still, she looked too damned appealing whether she knew it or not. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were parted. If she were anyone else, I might've called her sexy. But she wasn't anyone else. And crazy hot girls weren't my thing.
Hot, yes.
Crazy, no.
And Arden Weathers was the worst kind of crazy, the kind that snuck up on you when you weren't expecting it – like a pack of hornets nesting in the ceiling. One minute you're pulling down drywall, and next minute, you're wondering what the hell happened.
Been there, done that.
Arden Weathers – no way she'd be stinging me.
In front of me, she gave a hard swallow. "You're not serious?" She blinked a few times before continuing. "I mean, you wouldn’t demolish the house or anything, would you?"
I made another show of looking around. "Like I said, it's hard to say."
Her voice rose. "Hard to say if you're serious?"
I pointed to the ceiling, where a dark stain marred the smooth, white surface. "See that? The roof – it's shot to hell."
She glanced up. "What?"
"It needs replacing. And there's another floor above us, which means…" I paused for emphasis. "…the leak's gone straight through. Stuff like that, it doesn't happen overnight."
The more I talked, the less happy Arden looked. "Yeah, so?"
"So we're looking at floor damage, too. Maybe structural."
"Yeah, but—"
"And the wiring – no way it's up to code."
"You mean the electrical wiring?"
"Unless you know another kind."
She hesitated. "But the electricity…it still works."
I gave her an ominous look. "For now."
"Yeah, but the house….it could always be rewired, right?"
"Why?" I scoffed. "It's missing bathrooms."
Her eyebrows furrowed. "Missing how?"
"A place this size – two bathrooms doesn't cut it."
"But wait," she said. "I thought you were talking about the wiring."
"I was," I told her. "But I've moved on. Try to keep up, will ya?"
Her mouth tightened. "Fine. Whatever.
