Page 9 of Taming the Wild Mountain Man

By the time Hume wraps up the mile-long list of everything wrong with my house, I want to cry. I don't even care about the humiliation. I was bracing for some bad news, but this is a whole other level of bad. "That's a lot. I—I don't know what to say."

A pained smile. "It is. But look, on the upside?—"

"There's an upside?"

"There is." He smiles, a little less pained this time. "Even though there's a lot that needs fixing, the structure itself is…solid."

"So…the upshot is my house doesn't need to be torn down?"

A chuckle. A nice sounding chuckle. Warm and rich and wraps around you like a hug. So warm and rich and huggy that it breaks through my defenses. It's the only logical explanation for the next words out of my mouth. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Hume appears just as surprised by my impromptu invitation as I am. His mouth drops open until a sly grin replaces it. He sits up taller, cocks his head slightly. "Are you sure?"

I nod, getting up from the dining table and making my way into the kitchen. I appreciate him calling a ceasefire in our prank war to come over. He was thorough and took his time in inspecting the house. The online reviews for his construction company BDE are really positive, so I trust his assessment. I know I'm not being lied to and that I won't get ripped off.

But since I can't say any of that to him—ceasefire terms have yet to be established—I see his sly grin, raise him a mischievous smile, and murmur, "Can you think of a better way to poison an enemy?"

"It might be too early in the evening to determine whether I've been poisoned or not—you seem smart so you could have gone with a slow release option—but that was a lovely meal. Thank you, Tenley."

The skin on the back of my neck prickles at Hume's compliment. "No problem."

Garlic butter shrimp pasta sounds way fancier than it is. And it only takes about twenty minutes to whip up.

"No, no. Let me," I hear from behind as I take the plates to the sink. Hume catches up to me, the heel of his palm brushing against the crook of my elbow. I somehow manage to not lose my grip on the plates. "You can't cook and clean," he rations.

"Oh, I can't, can I?" I spin around so I'm staring directly up at him, jabbing the edge of the plate into his chest. "Are you saying a modern, empowered womancan'tcook and clean?"

He jerks his head back, confused. "Why does that sound like a trick question?"

It dawns on me how silly what I said sounded. It must dawn on Hume, too, because his blue-silvery eyes glitter in the burnt-orange glow of my dining room.

I roll my eyes. Yes, he's been frustrating and rude and slightly cocky, but he has turned down the noise at night, and he is here helping me tackle the little shop of horrors that is my house, and he is wearing a shirt—a checkered pattern of various shades of brown—so maybe I ought to ease up on him. A little. "Truce?"

"Truce?" he repeats, and I detect a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

"Yes."

"To the war you started?"

My hand drops, my hackles rise. "Excuse me? I started nothing.You'rethe one who ignoredmethe day I moved in." Not to mention several times after that, but I don't say that since I don't want to come across as someone who's been keeping score, even though I totally have been.

He lets out a low hiss, his face forlorn. "About that. I'm sorry I reacted the way I did."

I knew it.I knew he saw me. I was starting to doubt myself, because whose first reaction to seeing their new neighbor for the first time is to look like they're about to throw up before booking it into their house?

"Who does that?" I jab him again with the plate then rest it on the counter before I inflict any plate-related bodily harm.

He inches closer. "I'm an idiot."

My pulse quickens. "You are."

I'm boxed in between Hume and the counter, but even if I weren't, I don't know if I'd want to move. Little bubbles of…somethingpercolate, sucking up the oxygen in the room…and in my lungs.

He advances some more. "I messed up."

The skin on my arms tingles. "You can say that again."

"I messed up."

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