Ghouls Rush In

  I exhaled and felt my shoulders droop. “It’s destiny.”

  “Destiny?” he asked with a crooked smile.

  “This house was left to me by a great-aunt I’ve never met, and I received the deeds to the house the same day that my divorce was finalized. Now if that isn’t an example of the hands of fate, I don’t know what is.”

  “You were related to Myra?” Ryan asked with interest.

  “She was my great-aunt,” I repeated, suddenly becoming increasingly interested in whether Ryan might be able to shed some light on this family connection of mine. “Did you know her?”

  He chuckled. “No one ‘knew’ her,” he started and then sighed like the news he was about to impart might not be welcomed. “Pey, your aunt…”

  “Great-aunt.”

  “Great-aunt wasn’t exactly what I would consider a…friendly woman,” he finished with a slight smile. “By any stretch of the imagination.”

  “Hmm, Hank said she tended to keep to herself.”

  Ryan nodded. “I tried to be a good neighbor and checked in on her a dozen or so times but my visits were always very unwelcome.”

  I sighed and then shrugged. “Well, good thing I’m not following in her footsteps.”

  He chuckled. “Damn good thing!” Then the laugh died on his lips and he just smiled down at me, a wistful expression in his eyes. “Even though I think this house is way too much for you to take on yourself, I must admit I’m glad you’re here.” He swallowed. “I like you, Peyton.”

  “I like you too, Ryan,” I answered with a genuine grin. “And want to know something else?”

  He chuckled. “Of course.”

  “I’d like you even better if you agreed to be the general on my job!” I finished with a huge grin and wide, happy eyes.

  Ryan shook his head and laughed as he eyed the ground before returning his gaze to mine. “You should know that your house is in terrible shape and it’s completely unsafe for you to even consider livin’ in it.”

  “I refuse to move,” I said in a tone that brooked no argument, dropping my playfulness from earlier. “I came here with a dream and I intend to see my dream to fruition.”

  “Well, can’t you still have your dream, but also get a rental somewhere in the interim?”

  I frowned up at him. “No.”

  “How did I know you were gonna to say that?” he grumbled, although the smile on his face gave him away.

  “Regardless of whether the house is unsafe or a huge job, that isn’t to say it can’t be fixed up?” I continued optimistically. I kept grinning up at him in such a way that I hoped it would be difficult to trample my hopes.

  “Of course it can, but as far as me doin’ it…”

  “No job is too big, no remodel too challenging,” I started, doing my best Superman narrator imitation as I held my arm up like Rosie the Riveter.

  Ryan immediately started chuckling, then shook his head again and gave me an expression that said it would be tough, if not impossible, to change his mind. Damn, but this guy was stubborn! “Your job will require a huge crew, an enormous amount of time, machinery that I no longer have…”

  “Blah,” I said, waving him away with an unconcerned hand. “You can find a crew, and I’m happy to rent any equipment you might need. Don’t you Southerners have Home Depots down here?”

  He narrowed his eyes on me but didn’t look angry. Rather, he seemed more amused—like he was trying to talk a determined kid out of a trip to the toy store. “You have got to be the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met…well, aside from my sister.”

  He was going to have one hell of a time on his hands because this kid was going to give him a run for his money when it came to stubbornness. “And proudly so,” I answered with a big grin.

  Speaking of his stubborn sister, I was determined to get Ryan to acquiesce to my demands, for my own selfish reasons, yes, but also for Trina. There had been such an expression of desperation mixed with hope in Trina’s eyes when she’d asked me to try to win Ryan over to the idea of remodeling my house that I really wanted to persuade him. If construction truly was in Ryan’s blood, I wondered if I’d be doing him a favor, as Trina seemed to think. Maybe getting back into renovating old houses would be cathartic for him? Maybe it would be healing in some way. Or maybe it would only remind him of his deceased wife…That was a thought I didn’t want to ponder for long. But, in the end, I decided that Trina probably did know what was best for her brother. She was his blood, after all.

  “I’m stubborn when I want the best, Ryan,” I said in a soft but serious tone, deciding to try my hand at flattering his ego.

  He chuckled again and shook his head. “And how would you, Peyton, who just happened to move here—what?—a month ago? How would you even know I’m the best?”

  I shrugged, thinking he made a good point. Including Hank and Trina, Ryan was one of only a handful of people I’d met so far in New Orleans. “Because I saw the amazing job you did on the Omni hotel and more importantly, Trina told me you were the best. She said Kelly’s Construction was a household name around New Orleans.” Then I smiled broadly again, pleased with my quick response. “And I never settle for anything less than a household name.”

  “You do realize I haven’t even lifted a hammer in years?” he asked, rolling his fingers through his thick hair. His cheeks, jaw, and chin were shadowed by stubble, which meant he hadn’t shaved in a day or so. It gave him a certain mountain man look, or maybe it was something more roguish—like the hero you’d see on a romance novel cover. Either way, I found it hard to resist reaching out to run my fingers along his square jaw.

  Realizing he was still trying to talk me out of hiring him, I offered him the expression of someone unimpressed. “You haven’t lifted a hammer in years?” I repeated, shaking my head like I wasn’t buying it even for a second. “I’m sure that’s stretching the truth.”

  But he immediately nodded. “I’m rusty, Peyton. It’s been a long time.”

  “So what?” I started.

  “So I’m not available,” he interrupted, eyeing me pointedly. There wasn’t anything in his gaze that said I was annoying or taking the conversation too far. “I stopped the construction business for personal reasons and I’m not in a rush to start up again. I’m enjoyin’ my retirement.”

  “Your retirement?” I reiterated, frowning up at him as I decided to avoid the “personal reasons” discussion at all costs. If he brought up his late wife, I’d be done. There was nothing I could argue that would in any way compensate for his loss. It was much better avoided or, if unavoidable, left alone.

  “Yes, I’m retired.”

  “At thirty-six?” I asked, crossing my arms against my chest. I tried to hide the smile that was already developing on my lips.

  “I’ll be thirty-seven in a month or so,” he answered, also attempting to hide a grin. We ended up looking at one another with puckered lips.

  “You have no business being retired at thirty-six or thirty-seven,” I muttered.

  “Why?” he asked with a shrug, like my point wasn’t a good one. “I have plenty to fill up my time—golfin’, the gym, spendin’ time with friends, with my dogs, and interferin’ in my sister’s life.”

  “What sort of dogs do you have?” I asked, suddenly enjoying the image of this man’s man interacting with his dogs. Somehow, it made him even more boyish than his dimpled grin. “Wait, let me guess,” I interrupted myself. “Something small,” I started. “And yippy.”

  “Small and yippy?” he spat back, going for offended but not quite getting there.

  “Yeah, like a miniature pinscher or a Chihuahua or something.” Then I smiled even more broadly. “You totally dress them up in little outfits, don’t you?”

  “Good Lord!” he exhaled loudly as his entire body shook with a baritone laugh. “No, I’m not fond of small dogs.” Then he took a breath, still smiling down at me. “I have two Saint Bernards, Peyton,” he answered, shaking his head. “A brother and siste
r—Ralphie and Stella.”

  “Ralphie as in A Christmas Story?” I asked with a smirk. He simply nodded. “And Stella as in…Steeellllaaa!” I finished, imitating Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire and not doing too bad a job, if I did say so myself.

  “Yep, nicely done there, neighbor,” he replied flirtatiously. I felt my heart race at seeing his sly smile and the way his dimples seemed to light up his entire face.

  Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, I cleared my throat. “Thanks,” I said, emitting a strange sound that halfway resembled a laugh cut short by a croak. “But, um, getting back to my remodel…”

  “Will you please call one of the contractors on that list I gave you?” he continued as I shook my head. “For the love of God, woman!” He fake bellowed as I continued to shake my head. “Hell, I’ll call them for you, if you want.”

  “No,” I answered with finality. “If I can’t have you, I’m happy being my own general. I can simply hire people as I need to,” I finished, remembering how he’d already advised me against it. I tipped my chin up into the air to make it known that I wouldn’t be silenced so easily.

  “Good God, woman, you are exasperatin’,” Ryan said with a deep, sonorous chuckle. Then he glanced at the house again before running his hand through his wheat-colored, wavy hair. “What you see in this place is beyond me…”

  “That is such a lie!” I ground out. He glanced over at me, surprise ricocheting through his eyes, but I didn’t allow him to defend himself. “Ryan Kelly, both you and I are more than aware that you love preserving old things. That’s why you got into the construction business to begin with, isn’t it? Nope, don’t answer,” I said, holding my hand up to silence him when it seemed like he was about to. “Just as you have a passion for the historical, so do I.”

  Ryan smirked down at me but exhaled a breath and leaned against the wall like he knew this soliloquy was going to be a long one. “This should be interestin’.”

  “I’ll have you know I was a history major in college,” I started.

  “You’ve got a history degree?” he asked, sounding genuinely interested.

  “No, I never finished,” I answered with a sigh. “I got married instead to an asshole who thought a history degree was a waste of time.”

  Ryan’s mouth became tight and his eyes took on an angry glow. “I’m sorry to hear that, Peyton.”

  I shook my head and waved away his concern. “It was a mistake that is now in the past and I don’t think about it at all so neither should you.”

  He smiled and nodded. “You’re a smart, strong woman. I like that.”

  I cocked a self-impressed eyebrow in his direction and continued my monologue. “Going back to my love for history, which echoes yours…”

  “Ah, yes,” Ryan said with a quick nod. “I apologize for interruptin’.”

  “Where was I?” I asked in mock irritation.

  Ryan glanced up at the sky as if he were remembering. “Um, somethin’ about me havin’ a passion for the historical and you havin’ that same passion.”

  “Right!” I answered with a melodramatic nod. “Just as you found your niche in restoring old, dilapidated, unloved, and unsightly hovels into the mansions they once were, I want to find my niche. I want to experience the satisfaction of seeing this,” I glanced around me and sighed. “This…”

  “Dump?” Ryan asked with a spark in his eyes.

  I frowned at him. “This ghost of its former self—”

  “Wow, nice one, Pey,” he interrupted me.

  I shot him a cross look but continued. “I want to breathe life back into this old house not only for myself but for my family too, Ryan. Like I said, I never met my Great-Aunt Myra, and unfortunately, I can’t ask my mom about her because she died a long time ago.”

  I watched Ryan swallow, and with the sadness that suddenly descended into his eyes, I realized he was coming my way. And while part of me felt like maybe I was manipulating him with my sad but true story, I figured it was for his own good anyway—well, at least that’s what Trina seemed to think, and I had decided to throw my lot in with hers.

  “I’m sorry,” he said genuinely.

  “Ryan, this house is all I have left of my family. I never knew my father and now that I’m divorced, I have no more connections in the world. It’s just me.” Yes, it was a bit melodramatic, but it seemed to be working so I was going to go for it. “That’s why this house means so much to me and why I can’t and won’t sell it.” I swallowed hard as I realized the truth in my words. “I think of the renovations on this house as the project that’s going to get me through the difficulty of my divorce. I know it seems like a huge undertaking to you and the truth is that, yes, it is a huge undertaking, but it’s exactly what I need right now.”

  Ryan was quiet for a few seconds before he finally nodded and exhaled. “I’ll make you a deal…”

  “I’m all ears,” I answered with a genuine smile, wondering if he was finally coming around.

  “Because I can tell you aren’t gonna to stop until I give you an inch,” he started and then laughed, “and because you did get me with your sob story, I’m willin’ to give you an inch.”

  “And what exactly would this inch entail?” I asked with an expression of absolute interest, because I was beginning to feel like there might just be a light at the end of the tunnel.

  “I’ll renovate one bedroom and one bathroom so you can comfortably live in your house while the rest of it is bein’ remodeled…by someone else.”

  I frowned and propped my hands on my hips. I thought we’d come so far, but apparently we hadn’t. “What, do you think I’m only going to use a bedroom and a bathroom?” I demanded, not meaning to sound so put out, but I was disappointed. “I have to eat, man!” I finished with a laugh. It suddenly dawned on me that I was very comfortable around Ryan. I felt like I could be myself and, even better, he seemed to enjoy me being me. Well, judging from the smile on his face anyway, and the way he laughed so much during the course of our conversation. “I thought you said my story meant something to you!”

  “It did!” he exclaimed, holding his hands up in mock surrender before dropping them and shaking his head as he exhaled a pent-up breath. “I swear you will drive me to the nuthouse, Peyton Clark!” he finished with a hefty chuckle and a dramatic sigh. “The kitchen is the most work of any room!”

  “Oh, please,” I said, crunching my lips up like I wasn’t impressed. “Cry me a river—to quote Justin Timberlake.” Then an idea occurred to me and I beamed up at him, even going so far as to bat my eyelashes. “Ryan, I will see your inch and raise you one more.”

  “Here we go,” he grumbled, but his attention was riveted on me, his eyes buoyant with excitement and undisguised curiosity. “What’s your inch?”

  I didn’t drop my eyes from his. “You remodel the entire bottom floor and make it livable, so I can at least be comfortable while the top two floors are being renovated.” I paused for a breath. “I mean, there is that sagging concern, right? You wouldn’t want to just renovate two rooms if the house sinks into the ground, now would you?”

  “That’s not an inch, that’s a mile,” he muttered, shaking his head in mock exasperation. Well, for all I knew, maybe it was real exasperation at this point.

  “Is that a yes?” I asked confidently.

  “No.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Hmm, it sounded like a yes.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “I’ll take your dogs for a walk every day,” I started, searching for any other ideas that might sweeten the pot.

  “I already take them for a walk every day, and what’s more, I enjoy it.”

  “I’ll do your gardening.”

  “The gardener does that.”

  “I’ll clean your house.”

  “Already have a cleanin’ lady.”

  “I’ll cook you dinner,” I blurted without even really realizing I’d just basically asked him out on a date. Or had I? Was cooking him din
ner actually a date? Or was it just being friendly? Neighborly? I wasn’t sure how he would take it. Crap, I wasn’t even sure how I was taking it! He just stared at me for the next three seconds, saying nothing, so they felt like hours.

  “Deal,” he finished, and the look in his eyes was suddenly smoldering. It was so primal, I felt my entire body flush in response. Somehow we’d gone from mere flirtatious repartee to something much more passionate—something that felt sensual, magnetic. Well, something that caused goose bumps to travel up and down my arms, anyway.

  “Um, good,” I started, giggling a horrible sound that I then muffled with my hand. It was more than obvious that I’d lost my cool and sheer nervousness had already set in.

  “But we’ll have to take a rain check on dinner,” Ryan said, seeming completely nonplussed by what just passed between us. He didn’t look embarrassed, awkward, nervous…nothing. He seemed like he was totally in control of himself, just like he had been a few seconds ago.

  “Rain check?” I asked, still feeling like a rock was lodged in my throat.

  He chuckled. “Your kitchen isn’t exactly in workin’ order, is it?”

  “Oh!” I said loudly before laughing uncomfortably again. “Yeah, that’s right.”

  He flashed me his pearly whites and shook his head, dropping his gaze to the ground as he chuckled. “You should consider goin’ into sales, Peyton, if you aren’t already.”

  “Sales?”

  He glanced at me again and nodded vigorously. “Yes, you’ve got a gift, I reckon. Hell, you convinced me into doin’ somethin’ I had no intention of doin’.”

  I laughed, taking it as a compliment. “Well, if it ever comes down to it, I hope I can use you as a reference.”

  Later that evening, I relaxed in the gold velvet comfort of the two-person sofa in my suite at the Omni Royal hotel. Kicking my feet up on the coffee table, I let out a sigh, which was quickly followed by a self-impressed smile. It had been a long day, but I’d gotten a lot accomplished. Most importantly, I’d somehow worked the miracle of getting Ryan Kelly to agree to participate in my remodel.