Page 25 of Written with Love

Chapter Eight

By the time the men hung the drywall on the new walls, the other crew had demolished the one wall and cleaned up and patched all the walls that would stay. Shortly after those tasks were done, the crew left for the night.

He wanted to see if Juliette could stick around a little longer, but she had disappeared without him noticing. No doubt she’d left along with everyone else.

Once the house was quiet, he stood in the kitchen, assessing the day’s work. The cabinets were still in their boxes, unopened, shoved against the dining room wall, along with the new appliances he’d ordered. He’d been told they’d be opening the cabinets and putting them together in the coming days. He couldn’t wait.

He could just imagine how the room would look months from now—the warm honey color on the walls, the rich color of the wood cabinets, the sanded wood floors gleaming. There’d be bread baking in his new double oven. Maybe cookies? The smell of spring would be gently blowing through the windows. The sound of laughter and music… he stilled and cocked his head to the side a little as he frowned.

Was that “Let Me Call You Sweetheart” playing softly from somewhere in the house?

“It looks amazing,” Juliette said beside him. He jumped and covered his heart with his hands. “Sorry.” She chuckled. “I forgot my bag.” She held up her bag and waved it at him. “Gosh, you look like you saw a ghost.”

“No,” he said quickly, but he was pretty sure he’d just heard one. He’d never believed in ghosts before. Why now? Something about this old place had him questioning his sanity. He must be overworked, sleep deprived, and under sexed.

But he wasn’t afraid of whatever was there. After all, the only feelings he’d gotten around the property were love and excitement.

Maybe it was the young couple that had lived here before? Maybe an old lighthouse keeper?

Whoever or whatever was lingering, it was obvious they meant no harm.

He shook his head to clear the stupidity from his foggy mind and then, without thinking, driven by some unknown force, he took two steps towards Juliette until he was less than a breath away. Then he leaned down and kissed her.

The moment she melted against his chest, he knew he was a goner. She tasted like he’d imagined she would. Sweet, sensual, full of heat. He knew in that second he would do whatever it took to keep her right there.

They jumped apart when a door somewhere in the house slammed shut.

“What was that?” she asked, her eyes wide as she glanced down the now dark hallway.

“I’m guessing one of the guys is still here.” He narrowed his eyes at the darkness.

“No,” Juliette said slowly. “Everyone is gone. I walked out with them. My car is the only one left.” She took a step behind him. “Go check.”

He chuckled. “Not alone.” He took her hand and flipped on the lights as they went. They checked every single room and closet. When they headed up to the top of the lighthouse, she assured him that it was probably the wind that had shut an almost closed door, though she was chatting nervously.

“That happens all the time at my parents’ place. Their bathroom door slams shut every time one of their windows is cracked open.”

Since he didn’t want to worry her, he agreed. Hell, if it meant keeping her here a little longer so he could enjoy her company, he’d agree to anything.

They stood once more looking over the town lights as the last rays of sunshine disappeared over the horizon, and he turned to her.

“I was going to head into the Golden Oar for food. I still don’t have a working kitchen. Do you care to join me?”

She glanced at her watch and then bit her lip. “I was going to try to pick up a shift tonight. My bills don’t pay themselves,” she joked.

He frowned. “Oh! I…” He cursed himself under his breath. “I meant to talk to you about that.”

“About? My bills?” She frowned.

“No, about your pay.”

“My…” Her frown increased. “What?”

“Here, I have…” He patted his back pocket and came up empty, then remembered he’d put the envelope with the check he’d written earlier that morning in his shirt pocket. Smiling, he pulled it out and handed it over.

“What is this?” she asked, holding the envelope like it was going to bite her.

“Your cut of the first month’s revenues.”