Page 8 of Haden

“I see they were updated,” he muses as he turns off the water, “but I bet the wiring behind them will make me cringe.”

“Probably.” I haven’t thought much about it. My hairdryer works. That’s all I care about.

“Can I see some of the other rooms?”

“Sure.”

For the next two hours, I lead Haden on a tour of the house. He doesn’t really need me. I’m just tagging along because I’m fascinated by every facet of him. Most of the time, he’s serious and pensive. Occasionally, he cracks a smile, but it’s more of a smirk.

I’m used to smirking men. This house is filled with them.

I should tell Haden I have other things to do and leave him to explore on his own. It would seem he could spend days wandering from room to room, taking in every detail. If he were anyone else, I would be bored out of my skull.

But this is Haden. The man I’ve secretly lusted over for four years. I enjoy watching him. He’s fascinating.

“What about the third floor?” he suddenly asks, jerking his gaze toward me.

I’m kind of shocked he’s even remembered I’m following him around. He hasn’t addressed me in a while. It’s like he goes into his head and zones out, high on the most exciting subject—this mansion’s structural integrity.

“Uh, there is a third floor. Yes.”

He gives me that smirk again. “I could see that from the outside, jitterbug. Let’s go check it out.”

A strange warmth spreads through me when he calls me that new nickname he’s apparently assigned me. I’m not sure I want him to use it in front of other people, but I doubt he will. He’s probably just teasing me. Jitterbug is ten times better than squirt, plus Haden came up with it on his own. Not my brothers.

I jump down from the desk I’ve been sitting on in a random room no one has claimed and skip toward the door. “This way.”

He follows me.

“There are several large rooms on the third floor,” I tell him as we climb the stairs. “Tiago claimed one of them for an art studio. He’s a painter. I don’t think we should go in that room unless he or Reagan is with us.”

“Okaaay…”

I giggle at his confusion. “The thing is that Tiago paints a lot of nudes of Reagan. She refuses to let him share most of them.”

“Ah. I see. Well, we won’t go into his studio then.”

I guide Haden into one of the other spaces. It’s mostly empty.

Haden stands in the middle of the room and turns in a slow circle before tipping his head back to examine the ceiling. The man is incredibly intense about his job. I’ve never seen him at work, so I had no idea. It’s always a holiday break when I see him.

Suddenly, he looks at me. “I think we’re done for the day. Thank you so much for the tour. I have a lot to think about. This job is going to be enormous.”

I nod. “Yes. I assume so.”

He glances at his watch. “What time is dinner?”

“Six.”

“Is there a dress code?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Most of us clean up a bit, but we don’t dress fancy or anything. And sometimes we have no choice but to come straight from working hard in a dusty room. It’s no big deal.”

“Good. I think I can make my way back downstairs without getting lost. I should probably find your brother and get moved into the RV before dinner.” He hesitates for a moment and then strides quickly out of the room as if he just remembered he left the burner on in the kitchen.

I’m dizzy from the change in the atmosphere and his absence. It takes me a few minutes before I head back to my room. What a mess. I’m so infatuated with Haden that I can’t think straight. It’s a wonder I’m able to remember where my room is.

After spending several hours watching the man, I’m trembling. His worn jeans fit him like a glove and made his ass look like it belonged to a butt model. He’d been wearing a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and there’s nothing sexier than a man’s forearms.