Page 12 of Chasing the Flame
I shake my head again, grunting as my footing slips on the newly laid gravel path to the house. My eyes scan the structure, in awe of its timeless beauty.
Carson Plantation, historically has deep roots in the community. It was built in eighteen sixty-one, during the antebellum period when the style was popular. Though, local historians argue whether or not it was ever an actual working plantation.
The building is traditional with white columns on a big concrete wrap-around porch. Around three thousand five hundred square feet and sits on nearly five acres. It’s one of the most significant pieces of property surrounding Lake Superior and one of the last homes of a founding member to sell.
The wind’s blowing and gently swaying boughs of the willow trees surrounding the home. Arrowwood viburnum and flowering dogwood litter the property in random spots, with rose bushes lining the front edge of the porch. It’s a picturesque look, but I feel a foreboding coil in my gut.
It’s a silent warning, a plea for what I’m unsure. The feeling makes my skin crawl the closer I get to the porch. I look up to the second floor, my gaze taking in the white, billowy curtains that line every room and the worn red shutters that show obvious age.
A flap of a curtain in the top right window catches my attention. I blink, thinking my eyes are playing tricks on me. No, definitely not. A shadow moves so inhumanly fast that I’m confident I didn’t imagine it. I shiver, jerking a little as I turn my attention back to why I’m here.
Before I can speak, the door wrenches open, and an annoyed-looking Luke storms onto the porch. “I thought you weren’t arriving until this afternoon?”
Don’t fucking do it.
The words ring in my head, reminding me to hold my tongue. Business has been slow for the last few months, and I need this project. I stare at my cousin, words hanging at the edge of my lips. He’s always been the pretty boy type. His black slacks are pressed, and his polo is neatly tucked in with a flashy belt. The Rolex on his wrist glints in the sunlight, a solid reminder of Luke’s status and wealth.
His icy gray-blue eyes narrow, and I realize he’s still awaiting a response. I suck in a deep breath and say, “It’s noon, and we still have to run by Roger’s to pick up the siding he ordered for me. I figured we would drop this off first and let Tony get started while I take Matt back into town for the rest.”
He rolls his eyes but nods. “Yes, that’s fine. Make sure you call next time. I don’t want anyone here without one of us present. I’d prefer you keep the crew to a minimum, as I’m sure you can understand why I don’t want strange men around my wife.”
He bites the last word out; his eyebrow raised as if he dares me to question him. I feel the darkness in me take over, flitting at the corners of my mouth. Smothering it down, I catch a flash of obsidian with golden shimmering veins along the band of a teardrop-shaped ring. It’s enough to distract me. My eyes narrow as I take in the rest of the ring gracing his right hand.
The phoenix flame is in the center, paired with the horned silhouette of a beast with golden eyes. It’s enough to make me want to rip something to shreds, and I don’t stop the growl that escapes my lips. I want this fucker to remember all the times I used to make him piss his pants as a child.
My words are steel-tipped, laced with ferocity, “Don’t worry, cousin, my crew is respectful and professional. I’m sure your wife is in capable hands.” I smirk, knowing the next comment will send him over the edge. “Nice ring, I see some things never change.”
He stiffens, his eyes blazing with contempt, his posture rigid. He throws a cursory glance over his shoulder toward the house, his expression wary before turning to me, a mask of indifference plastered on his face. “See to it they are. I’m holding you responsible should anything go missing.”
I snort, nodding before turning my back, effectively dismissing him. I hear his footfalls stomping on the porch and fight back a grin. “What the fuck was that about?” Matt whispers, chuckling as he takes in my devilish expression.
I shake my head at him, refusing to dignify the question. I know damn good and well why Luke feels threatened.
I’m the cause.
If only he would treat his wife with more respect in my presence, I wouldn’t have to resort to such extreme measures.
I know it’s none of my business. Hell, I shouldn’t even be inserting myself where my opinion doesn’t belong. I just can’t stand to watch him be such a dick to her.
“Get to work, Tony. You know what to do. Matt, follow me down to Roger’s. I’m ready to get started, and it’s clear that this will be one of those projects.”
Matt chuffs a laugh, shaking his head at me. He rakes a hand through his black hair and leans down to grab his wallet and keys off the steps. His brown eyes crinkle at the edges, an ornery expression coming across his face. “Yeah, let’s go, boss. Before you get us into trouble with the man signing our checks.”
When I return with Matt and the rest of the goods in tow, we get started on the siding. It’s a slow process, one that takes time and great care. You want to make sure everything is sealed nicely. If done incorrectly, it can be calamitous for the home and its tenants. There’s mold to consider, as well as water, structural, and cosmetic damage, so we take time to ensure it’s properly installed.
After several hours, we’re more than ready to take a break. Each of us are wiping off copious amounts of sweat, chugging water like it’s our last drink. The summer sun beats relentlessly down our backs, and the puffy clouds I had seen earlier are long gone, taking every bit of shade with them.
It’s about that time I notice the front door creak open again. This time, it’s Averie—Mrs. Blackthorne—standing at the door, holding a tray with a jug of lemonade and several glasses. “I thought you all might be a little thirsty,” she says quietly, her voice barely above awhisper. Her eyes are wide, like she’s afraid but determined to conquer that fear. The green hue of her eye color is closer to moss today. My breath catches in my throat, and my eyes betray me, sliding down her face to that generous-sized chest, trailing along the edges of her stomach with just the right amount of fluff. Then, down to her hips and clenched thighs. I love how she tries to hide it, as if I can’t tell she’s affected by my appraisal.
Her lips part, forming a soft oh, and a pretty pink flush comes across her freckled cheeks. Her long coppery-auburn waves swish behind her, gracing the top of her peachy ass. My fingers twitch, itching to fist in her hair, and crash my lips down on hers.
Damn.
There goes my dick, having a complete and total mind of its own. I try to cover my groan when she sets the tray on the white iron patio furniture. I plan to paint it all black—for her. I love that Averie’s style tastes are similar to mine, even if she doesn’t know it. It was a bonus when I took down her husband by a peg or two.
So, of course, I’ll turn this house into her gothic fantasy.
She pours three glasses, tucking a stray strand of curls behind her ear—the jeans she’s wearing today hug every single curve and leave nothing to the imagination. With the first glass in her hand, she comes my way. Our fingers touch as she hands me the glass, and a tingling sensation shoots up my arm, crawling down my back.
