Page 11 of Haunted Hearts
I look down to see Lydia standing next to me, examining her nails. She’s got a binder tucked under her arm, and she’s literally tapping her foot. This chick is unreal.
“Sure,” I say. I toss my coffee cup in the trash. I hadn’t thought my interactions with the woman at the coffee shop could get any more awkward, but here we are. “Let’s do it.”
As I follow Lydia out of the office and into the main room, I’m struck by how small she is. Her hand had been fucking tiny when I shook it, but now that I’m standing next to her when she’s notscreaming at me in a coffee shop, I feel like The freaking Hulk. I’m pretty sure I could pick her up one-handed?—
Lydia stops suddenly, and I have to jump backward to keep from colliding with her. She spins around and studies me before striding over to one of the windows looking out on the street.
“Let’s get something out of the way.”
“Okay…?”
“I don’t like you, and I’m not too dumb to see you don’t like me, either.”
“Wow. Shrewd observation skills you’ve got there.”
“And you’re clearly hilarious.” Lydia rolls her eyes. “Anyway, you don’t have to like me. I only ask that you keep an open mind about your plans for the building. That’s what this is about. I know the board approved your designs, but…”
I cock my head at her. Her dark eyes are fixed on me, her expression serious. “Why do you care so much?”
“I told you. This place is a part of my childhood. A part ofme, really.”
“Huh.” It’s not a very concrete answer, but something tells me I’ve already seen too much of her personal life today to keep digging without pissing her off further.
“So, if you could just put your opinion of me aside for the next ten minutes and listen to what I have to say, that’d be great.”
I shrug. I’m not going to change a design that Ethan Fucking Wilde has already approved for a woman I met an hour ago, but for her sake, I’ll play along. “You got it.”
“Good.” She nods, then gestures to the row of windows in front of her. “These need to stay.”
“Mm,” I say, strolling lazily over to stand next to her and survey the windows that stretch across the wall. I point to the top row. “Eight-over-twelve sash windows. They do give it a New England feel.”
“And the bay windows.”
“I like those too,” I say. “They let in a lot of light. But they’re not historically accurate.”
Lydia’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“Exactly what I said. If you’re trying to preserve the colonial features of the building, the bay windows aren’t going to help. Judging by that multi-pane glazing, I’d say they were installed sometime in the mid-twentieth century.”
I can tell I just knocked the wind out of Lydia, and honestly, it’s pretty hard to hide the smirk I feel coming on. Leaning against the wall, I cross my legs and look up, gesturing toward the ceiling. “That dormer, though?” I whistle. “That’s original. See how it’s got those segmental, arched panes? That’s representative of when the place was built, and I worked it into the designs. What else you got?”
“Okay, smart ass,” Lydia snaps. She stalks to the other side of the room, and I follow her into the foyer, trying not to laugh. She’s so small, but she’s mad—and she’s absolutely dripping venom. Her eyes land on the banister that spans from the main level down the half flight of stairs to the main entrance. “If you get rid of this banister, you’re getting rid of a piece of history. I happen to know for a fact that this has been here since the building was constructed in?—”
“1779,” I finish. I wince, though, as I follow her gaze to the banister. “Unfortunately, if you’d paid attention to the presentation instead of texting under the table, you’d already know that it’s being taken out.”
Lydia’s cheeks go pink. “Are you kidding me?”
“I’m very much not kidding, no. It’s beautiful, but it doesn’t fit the aesthetic we’re going for. Would it help, though, if I told you I’m keeping the transom above the main entrance?”
Lydia stalks toward me. Her gaze is still hard, but the little wisps of hair that have fallen down to frame her face look sodelicate, so soft. I actually feel a little bad for popping holes in all her hopes like this, especially after that story she shared about the banister. And with how close she’s standing to me now, I find my mind straying back to that text. Goddammit.
“You’re a real dick, you know that?”
“I’ve been told that before.”
I need to get a handle on myself. I can feel my dick starting to harden again, and I think frantically of kittens. Of vomit. Of kittens vomiting. Anything to keep me from thinking abouther, and the way she’s got her dark eyes fixed on me. I can already tell she’s going to be a thorn in my side until this project’s done—for more reasons than one.
Lydia scoffs. “I guess someone told you you were funny, too.”
