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“But I thought you were prepping to build a studio in the back yard.” The concrete slabs he had poured are supposed to be for his studio.
“I don’t need a studio.”
“You tricked me?”
He grins. “I tricked you.”
“But why is Uncle Mercury saying the tiny house is his home? He already has a home.”
“The house is yours,” Mercury says.
I try to find some patience. We’ve been arguing over who owns the house for months. I say it’s his. He doesn’t agree.
“As long as you’re alive the house is yours,” I start.
He smirks. “Not any longer.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “What did you do?”
He waves his cane at Gibson. “Not me. Your boyfriend.”
I switch my glare to Gibson. “What did you do?”
He grasps my hand and pulls me forward. “Why don’t we check out Mercury’s new house first?”
Sneaky bastard. He knows I hate fighting in front of my uncle since Mercury doesn’t hesitate to give his opinion. And he tends to agree with Gibson more often than not. The two men are always ganging up on me.
“Fine,” I mutter and march to the tiny house. I open the door and help Mercury inside before scanning the area.
“This is the living room slash kitchen dining area,” Gibson explains. “To the left is the bathroom. On the opposite side is the bedroom. There’s even a small washing area.”
I snort. “Because Uncle Mercury does so much laundry.”
“Why would I do laundry when I’ve got an able-bodied niece to do it for me?” Mercury asks.
My uncle is perfectly cable of doing everything by himself unless it involves washing clothes, cleaning dishes, or cooking meals. Anytime one of those activities comes up, he’s suddenly unable to stand and his bones ache.
“What do you think?” Gibson asks.
“It’s adorable. It’s perfect for us.”
He tweaks my nose. “Nice try. We’re living in the big house, sassy girl.”
“My show is on,” Uncle Mercury announces. “I’ll meet you back at the house.”
I hurry to help him but he shoos me away. “I can walk.”
I help him out of the door anyway and then watch as he maneuvers the path to the house. Only once he’s climbed the three stairs and entered the house do I turn around to confront Gibson.
I plant my fists on my hips. “What the hell is going on?”
He steps toward me but I hold up my hand. “Stop. You are not using your charm on me today, guitar man.”
He winks. “But you admit I’m charming.”
“I admit I’m going to use the plot of land I picked out to bury you in if you don’t explain yourself soon.”
“Uncle Mercury wants you to have his house.”
