Page 10 of Edge of Whispers

My jaw dropped. “Forty-two ... oh my God! Is it refundable?”

Knightly hesitated, gazing into his tea mug. “Ah, no,” he said, reluctantly. “I knew a guy who was going out of business and liquidating stock, so I took Lucia there a few weeks ago. We picked out supplies at a quarter of the list price. No refunds. And the lumber’s already been cut.”

I blew out a shaky breath. “Oh, man. That’s a kick in the ass. Forty-two thousand bucks’ worth of lumber, flooring, tile, and bathroom and kitchen fixtures.”

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “I really liked her, so I was trying to save her money.”

“Well, thanks for that,” I muttered.

He drummed his fingers against the table thoughtfully. “You’ve got a couple of different choices here,” he said thoughtfully. “You can try to sell the stuff on eBay or Craigslist and probably recoup at least a portion of what she spent. Or you can go ahead with the renovation. It’ll definitely boost your property value. Though I have no idea who currently owns the house.”

There was a delicate pause. “My sisters and I,” I supplied. “In equal measure.”

“Ah. Good, then. So all you’d have to pay for now is labor, and a few odds and ends for whatever comes up last minute. You’d recover that and more in the increased property value. That way, the investment won’t be wasted. If you intend to sell the house, that is.”

“We don’t ‘intend’ anything.” My voice came out more sharply than I meant it to. “The funeral was yesterday. We have no plans yet.”

He lifted his hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to seem like I was pressuring you.”

His quiet tone shamed me. This was not his fault at all. It was so hard to think clearly. I kept losing the thread, getting muddled and lost. “My sisters should know about this,” I said. “Would you mind if I called them right now?”

He set his cup down and rose to his feet. “That’s fine with me. I’ll step outside while you make the call. To give you some privacy.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Please, sit down.” I waved him back down and dialed Vivi’s number. Nell, the impractical bookworm scholar, had a smartphone in her possession, but she may as well not have it, since she almost never turned it on or charged it up, and when she did, she never had the ringer on, or even kept it anywhere near her person. Nell considered smartphones evil in general; annoying, probably carcinogenic, and worst of all, a diabolical sinkhole for her precious attention. Chances are she was right about all of that, but in practical terms, this philosophical position drove Vivi and me nuts. Which Nell thought was hugely funny.

Or at least, she had thought so before what happened to Lucia.

“Yeah?” Vivi picked up immediately. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, but I’ve discovered a new wrinkle.” I outlined the situation just as Knightly had described it, then waited while Vivi relayed it to Nell.

There was some muffled back-and-forth on the other end before Vivi came back with the verdict. “Our combined opinion is that if Lucia wanted it done and went to the trouble of buying all the supplies, we should respect her wishes. Problem is, I don’t have any cash on hand to pay the crew.” Nell said something emphatic in the background. “And neither does Nell,” Vivi added.

“Okay. Maybe I can look into getting a loan. Later, babes.” I ended the call and turned to him. “This is the situation as it stands,” she said. “My sisters and I are disposed to proceed, so as not to waste Lucia’s investment. But we don’t have cash on hand to cover your labor—at least not yet. Lucia had some money tucked away, I assume, but we don’t know how much or when we’ll be able to access it. I can look into taking out a loan, but in the meantime?—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go ahead and get started. Pay me later. When you sort it all out.”

I was startled. “Are you sure that’s wise? I don’t even know when I can get the cash. I wouldn’t want to put you in a bind.”

His shrug was nonchalant. “I can cover costs for a couple of weeks. I only have Eoin to pay, for now. We’ll just see how it goes.”

“On just my word?”

His eyes gleamed over his cup. “I know your word’s good.”

“Ah … you just met me fifteen minutes ago,” I pointed out.

Knightly glanced at his watch. “Eighteen minutes. That’s more than enough.”

His gaze was so intense. It wiped my mind clear of coherent thought.

All thoughts but one.

No. Not today. I was grieving, wobbly, my judgment shot to hell, and I was probably imagining all these wildly inappropriate, ill-timed vibes. No, no, and no.

Or maybe I wasn’t imagining them, and that was even worse. He was way too big for my tastes, for one thing. There was just too much of him. I steered around big men who gave off those commanding alpha-dog signals. I avoided them like the plague. And perfect though Knightly’s manners might be, mellow though he might act, there was no mistaking a man like that. I could spot one disguised in any costume—a dress suit, a military uniform, or jeans and a T-shirt. The force field of Liam Knightly’s natural machismo tickled my skin, all the more dangerous for how deliciously subtle it was.

It wasn’t a bad thing. It was how he was, like having brown hair, or a nice ass. But even so. I had to run the show when it came to relationships, romance, sex. That detail was non-negotiable. And a guy like him would want to be on top.

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