Page 6 of Crazy Little Thing Called Love
His breath caught at the sight of her. Her jet-black hair was tamed by a colorful scarf, and those eyes—extraordinary green eyes that reminded him of gemstones—were currently assessing him with surprising intensity. At first glance, she had the delicate beauty of a fairy-tale princess, but those eyes told a different story. They were too knowing, too sharp—the eyes of a sorceress who could see right through you and find you wanting.
He was absolutely done for. His hand drifted to his chest, right above his heart, as though checking it was still functional. He was formulating a response that wouldn’t get him slapped when a telltale creaking sound behind him triggered his alarm bells. He spun around just in time to grab Ruth’s elbow before she could follow the door’s journey to the basement.
“Gran!” he scolded, tugging her back from the threshold. “I told you to stay in the truck. This place is a structural disaster.”
He tried steering her back toward safety, but Ruth planted her tiny feet and refused to budge, her laser focus locked on Faith.
“Are you the owner of this delightful death trap?” Ruth asked, her tone somewhere between fascination and horror.
Faith glanced down at her filthy clothes and grimy hands, fighting the childish urge to hide them behind her back. She recognized old money when she saw it—having grown up swimming in those particular waters—and this woman practically radiated it.
“Yes, ma’am,” she admitted. “I’m Faith Hartwell.”
Ruth’s eyes widened with delight. “Good grief, girl. You bought the Shelley sisters’ whorehouse. I haven’t been here in ages!”
CHAPTERTHREE
Jake triedto cover his laughter with a cough, but his gran’s spontaneity never failed to keep life interesting. He glanced at Faith, concerned she might be mortified by his grandmother’s blunt revelation about her new home’s colorful history. To his surprise, excitement lit up her face instead.
“This is my grandmother, Ruth Murphy. You’ll get used to her candor after a while.” He dodged her expected elbow and chuckled at the indignant expression she shot him.
“You scamp. You’ve never been anything but trouble. Is that any way to talk about an old lady?”
“I don’t see any old lady,” he said, giving her a wink.
Jake’s eyes crinkled with genuine fondness, and Faith found herself smiling at their easy banter despite the chill seeping through the broken windows.
Ruth was a vision that defied every stereotype of elderly women. She had a striking sweep of snow-white hair pulled back in an elegant style that highlighted aristocratic cheekbones. But it was her outfit that truly captured Faith’s attention—designer jeans with subtle silver embellishments paired with a red-fringed western shirt. Faith couldn’t recall ever meeting a woman of Ruth’s generation who favored red leather mules over sensible orthopedic shoes.
The scent of vintage perfume—something classic and French—drifted from Ruth, mingling with the dusty, woody smell of the old house. Faith breathed it in, finding it oddly comforting.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Faith said, genuinely delighted. “Was this really once a house of ill repute? How fascinating!” She carefully navigated around some suspicious dark spots in the floor and offered Ruth her arm for support. “I’d love to hear everything about it. I sensed this house had stories to tell the moment I walked through the door. Let’s go to the kitchen where it’s safer, and I can offer you something to drink.”
Jake stood frozen, wondering how he’d lost control of the situation so quickly. He followed them toward what he hoped was a structurally sound kitchen, bemused by Faith’s enthusiasm. Something about the way her eyes had lit up at the mention of scandal intrigued him. Perhaps Faith Hartwell wasn’t quite as proper and buttoned up as she first appeared.
“Before you ladies get too comfortable,” Jake interjected, “I should make sure this area is safe. Faith, if you’re planning on staying here tonight, we need to start work immediately. I strongly recommend packing a bag and checking into a hotel until we’ve leveled the foundation and removed the rotted wood. But something tells me you’re not going to take that advice.”
“I am perfectly reasonable,” Faith protested, the slight lift of her chin betraying her stubborn streak. “But I bought this house, and I intend to see this project through, challenges and all.”
“I figured as much,” Jake said, a smile tugging at his lips. Something about her determination struck a chord with him. “I’ll do a thorough inspection and draft an estimate. If we can finalize everything today, I can have a crew here first thing tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother with an estimate,” Faith said, waving her hand dismissively. “I’ll pay whatever it takes to restore this place to its original glory.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Jake replied, his voice gentle but firm. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I let anyone take advantage of you, even yourself.”
Something warm unfurled in Faith’s chest at his protective tone, and she found herself taking a half step closer to him before catching herself. It had been a long time since anyone had looked out for her interests.
“You should listen to him, dear,” Ruth advised, settling herself on one of the sturdier-looking kitchen chairs. “My Jake is one of the finest men I’ve ever known. And he’s single too. Never even been engaged.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “He’s not gay either. Are you, Jake?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, fighting back a grin.
“And I’m not suggesting he’s inexperienced, mind you,” Ruth continued. “He’s certainly enjoyed his youth and his fair share of nitwits with more breasts than brains, but he’s outgrown that stage. You don’t need to worry about him being clumsy where it matters, if you know what I mean. What about you? Is there a special someone in your life? I don’t see a ring.”
Faith’s cheeks burned under Ruth’s not-so-subtle matchmaking, and she avoided meeting Jake’s eyes. She noticed Jake wasn’t rushing to change the subject—in fact, he seemed quite interested in her answer.
“No, I’m not married,” she admitted, the words bringing a familiar hollow feeling she quickly pushed aside. “My career keeps me rather busy.” The slight tightening in her throat wasn’t audible, but she felt it all the same.
The hands-off signal couldn’t have been clearer, but it only heightened Jake’s curiosity. What secrets was Faith Hartwell hiding behind that professional demeanor? What had put that momentary shadow in her expressive green eyes? He recognized his grandmother’s stubborn determination in himself—that need to solve puzzles others might walk away from.
