Page 56 of My Favorite Lost Cause
“We’re saying yes, right?”
He moves a two-by-four and sets it in front of him. “As if you were ever going to let me decide.”
That is accurate, because I was not. “I’d have allowed you to weigh in if you had some vital information to share. If there’d been a bunch of murders there, maybe. Or if it was haunted.”
He grins. “Maren, we both know that would just make you want to go more.”
I laugh. That’s also totally correct.
It’s funny how well he knows me. And how much I like being known.
26
MAREN
“So today’s the day,” Charlie says glumly over breakfast on Friday. “You sure you don’t want to run into town for a last-minute bikini wax?”
I’m not playing this little game with him. He already seems to hate Andrew as much as he did Harvey and they’ve never even met in person.
“I had it all lasered off ages ago,” I reply with my most withering look. “Smooth as a baby’s bottom.”
A muscle flexes in his jaw. “That was probably more than I needed to know.”
“It was more than you needed to know when you asked me the question,” I reply. “Let’s not pretendIwas the one who crossed the line.”
I spend the day itching to open Margaret’s journal again, as if it might tell me what I’m in for tonight, but Andrew is no George Graves. He’s not pompous; he’s not a coward. And Charlie is no William Howard, though perhaps that’s simply because I assume William Howard didn’t have threesomes or claim fatherhood is worse than being murdered.
It’s late afternoon when Andrew’s rented G wagon pulls intothe circular drive. Elijah and the guys are gone for the day, and Charlie has made himself blessedly scarce—to my surprise.
Andrew is exactly the guy I remember: fit, handsome, responsible, genuine. The kind of guy I should have married in the first place. He will not try to push me into sleeping with him tonight in Beaufort—I have no idea why I was worried.
With the puppies frolicking underfoot, I show him around the house—the views, the trail, the crazy old root cellar, all the rooms upstairs, and the century-old graffiti from Walter and his brother.
I tell him about the family and the mystery surrounding what happened to them, minus the bit where I dreamed of the journal’s location. He’s probably the kind of guy who’d think my wacky paranormal encounters are cute, but you can never be too sure.
“Seems like the kind of place that ought to hold a family again,” he ventures, and there’s something in his gaze that has me wondering if he’s referring tous.
I swore I was on a cleanse from thinking about my marital situation and my ticking clock, but it’s impossible not to consider the possibility.
Falling for Andrew could certainly solve a lot of my problems at once.
“So, what do you think?” I ask, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand.
“Clearly this place didn’t deserve to be condemned. It might even qualify for a historical designation if there was time to apply for one.”
“So there’s not time?”
He frowns. “If this developer is as connected as you think he is, he’s going to make sure this happens fast. But we can discuss over dinner.”
I nod, reluctantly. I’m not sure why I’m dragging my heels but I suspect it’s simply that I’m sad about missing a night inwith Charlie. And speaking of…where the hell is he? We’ve toured the entire property, and there’s been no sign of him.
“Okay,” I reply. “Let me just see if Charlie can watch the dogs.”
I leave Andrew on the back deck and walk toward the cottages. I’m nearly there when Charlie emerges, freshly showered, in khakis and a button-down. So handsome he takes my breath away.
Actually, he’s always that handsome. I’d just gotten sort of accustomed to the version of him in jeans and a T-shirt.
“Are you goingout?” It sounds angrier than I’d intended it to.
