Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“Right, well…um…this is the house!” I move away, refusing to look back at him and get stuck in the depths of his eyes again. “I’m sure Harry told you about it but it’s definitely a project. I think it’ll look so good when it’s done, though—”
“If it gets done,” Dylan grumbles, and I stutter, not knowing how to answer that.
“Well, I only just got here so my first step is making a note of everything that needs to be done in each room like here.” I lead us into the living space and sweep my hand at the wall separating it from the kitchen. “I want to knock that down to open this space up—”
“Is the wall load-bearing?” Dylan interrupts with his question. I make the mistake of glancing over my shoulder at him, finding his face in an expression I can’t understand as he stares at the wall I was speaking about.
“Uh…what?” I stutter out.
Dylan’s stare turns on me and I shiver, taking a step away to try to hide it. God, I’m making a fool of myself here.
“Load-bearing,” Dylan repeats slowly, raising one brow at me. I swallow thickly, shaking my head. “Do you not know what that means?”
I’m a little taken aback by how fast he’s jumped straight into this while I’m still remembering how to form words, and heat rises to my cheeks with embarrassment. Because his question feels as though he’s looking straight through me. I don’t know anything about this stuff. But that’s what he’s for, isn’t it?
“I’ll learn,” I answer, putting all my determination behind the words.
“This place is a mess, Dahlia.”
He says my name with a softness that surprises me. There’s no malice or judgment in his tone, just a sort of resigned groan. I swallow thickly. Oh, god. Does he notice the way I’m practically swooning over him? I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
Even still, I want to prove that I can do this. I want his respect. And there’s something in me to show him exactly how capable I am, to see a spark of approval in his eyes. I’ve left shy, scared Dahlia back home, and if I want to embrace this new, brave version of me. I can’t back down now.
“What about the wiring? Or the insulation? Or the weather damage? Have you even thought about checking for mold?”
“I only just got here,” I argue, putting my hands on my hips to hide the way they’re shaking with the need to reach for him. I raise my chin, refusing to back down from his heated stare no matter how badly I want to.
“But you’re living here?” He turns away just as I catch what I think is concern twisting his lips. I feel my heart deflate a little. Here I am, drooling over a man who clearly sees nothing except a silly little girl he has to take care of when he looks at me. I mean, he hasn’t said that but I can feel the worry radiating from this big bear of a man, and I can’t help but think it’s because he thinks I’ve made a mistake in buying this place.
“Yes.”
“Without even a structural check.”
“Well—”
“You need to get checks done before you know it’s safe to live here, Dahlia,” Dylan explains, turning his head and making his hair fall over his face. “Jesus, has your brother seen this place? Harry’s going to want to come drag your ass back home—”
“No!” I shout, interrupting him desperately. He turns to me, pinning me with a wide-eyed look that says I’ve got his attention. “Don’t call my brother. I can do this, Dylan. I just…I have some stuff to learn, that’s all.”
“You should’ve started learning before you got on that plane. You’re in way over your head here, petal.”
He doesn’t raise his voice, and once again the words are delivered with a gentle edge that tells me he’s worried. The nickname flies from his tongue with a kindness I didn’t expect, sending shivers through me. I bite my bottom lip, trying to think of a way to make this work. I won’t back down from my future or this house just because it presents a challenge.
“You don’t know anything about me!” I raise my voice even though he never shouted at me. I’m defensive and fighting both my attraction to him and my own self-doubt.
Dylan blinks at me. My body heats under his attention regardless of the serious conversation.
“I know that you have no idea what you’re doing,” he starts, then turns away as he walks over to the wall and raps his knuckles against it, testing for God knows what. “And before you argue with me, I’m not saying you’re stupid or incapable, Dahlia. But this is a huge project, one that’s going to take a whole lot of work. Are you prepared for that? For just how much learning you’ll have to do? It’s not too late to sell this place and use the money to travel or whatever it is college kids your age do.”