1Love Redesigned (Lakefront Billionaires, #1)(35)



The crease between his brows disappears. “So I’m forgiven?”

“I forgave you after you stopped me from walking into a spiderweb, so yeah, we’re good so long as you don’t do it again.”

“Deal. Now, will you explain what you said earlier?”

“About opening up the kitchen so more natural light can come through?”

He scowls. “Déjate de tonterías. What did you mean about hearing worse comments?”

“Oh. Pass.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Don’t make me resort to extreme measures to get the information out of you.”

I scoff. “Nothing you say or do will get me to open up to you about that part of my life.”

“Wanna bet?”

It’s funny how two words can open a floodgate of memories I banished. From money to bragging rights, Julian and I spent years wagering bets.

Julian’s phone rings. He looks down at the screen before cursing to himself. “I need to take this.”

I wave him away. “No problem. I can finish up the last room on my own and lock up after.”

“You sure?”

I fight the dryness in my throat as I nod. “Yup.”

He ignores his annoying ringtone. “I’ll give Sam your information, and he can coordinate the meetings.”

“You’re willing to let me speak to your assistant after last time?”

“Of course. I had him sign a new contract with a nice pay increase and a promise to never work for you so long as he lives.”

Déjate de tonterías: Stop fooling around.



“I hate how you’re always one step ahead of me.”

He laughs for a second time today, throwing me off. “There’s a reason I always kicked your ass at chess.”

I flip him off, and he says goodbye with a smile on his face that remains with me long after he leaves.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Dahlia


Although I planned on heading home after finishing up with the final bedroom, I quickly changed my mind once I found a set of stairs leading up to the attic.

I love exploring attics, although not many people understand, thanks to their bad rep for being creepy and haunted. There is something special about appreciating a home’s history, whether it be old diaries, letters to a lover, or a discarded trunk full of worldly treasures.

“Wow.” I take a look out the round porthole window facing the valley and lake beyond. The sheer size of the attic itself is incredible, with enough space to create a whole in-law suite if I wanted.

Wood planks creak beneath me as I search all the nooks and crannies for anything worth salvaging. Unfortunately, I find nothing of value during my sweep.

“Huh.” I turn in a circle. Usually, I find something—even a random journal or a forgotten Christmas present gathering dust.

The loud chime of my cell phone echoes off the high ceiling. A photo of Julian holding his Second Best trophy on graduation day covers the lit screen, along with his nickname in bold beneath.

I slide my thumb across the screen and answer. “Julian.”

“Did you lock up?” he asks while a door shuts in the background.

I snort. “You can’t trust me to do that right?”

It’s not difficult to imagine him glaring as he answers, “You Mu?ozes can’t be bothered to lock your front door at night, so forgive me for making sure.”

“I’ve been locking doors since college, so never fear. I’ll do so when I’m done.”

“You’re still there?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

His silence only lasts a beat. “What are you doing?”

“Exploring.”

“Couldn’t that have waited until Ryder is there tomorrow?”

The wooden floorboards groan from all my pacing. “There are some things I like to do alone.”

He pauses. “Like what?”

“You’re going to think it’s stupid.” At least that’s what the producers thought whenever I dragged a film crew around during my searches.

“What’s stupid is you making assumptions about me without asking.”

“Umm.” When did Julian become so assertive, and why am I finding it kind of hot?

He huffs something to himself before speaking louder this time. “Be careful.”

Two little words have my thoughts reeling and my pulse skyrocketing.

Shit. I’m not equipped to handle feelings right now. In fact, I wish I could replace my heart with a motor that runs on iced coffee and paint fumes while I work through my issues.

I fight the tightness in my throat. “When did we start caring about each other’s well-being?”

“Since you’re not covered under my liability insurance.”

I fake a sniffle. “For a second, I thought you had feelings for me.”

“Only the negative type.”

“Please stop now before I swoon.”

His chuff of air could be interpreted as a laugh. “Jokes aside—” He is interrupted by someone in the background calling out his name. “Sorry. I gotta go.”

“It’s fine. I should get going anyway.”

“Dah—”

Lauren Asher's Books