“We need this project done within the next three months.”
His brows rise toward the edge of his hard hat. “What?”
“Do you think it can be completed by the end of January?”
Ryder’s gaze bounces between the decrepit house and me. “Depends on what we find on the inside.”
“We can modify schedules and postpone other projects if it means getting this one done faster. I want all hands on deck here.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the rush?” he asks.
The answer to his question drives up to the house, blasting Ozuna loud enough to be heard through the sealed windows.
Dahlia climbs out of her sister’s car in a pair of leather boots, a thin sweater that can’t do much to fight the late October chill, and a designer skirt custom-made to drive me crazy.
God give me the strength to make it through this meeting with my team while fighting a hard-on.
A flicker of hesitation crosses her face before she props her sunglasses on her head and holds her hand out for Ryder to grab. “Hi, I’m Dahlia.”
“Ryder. I’m the project manager.” His gaze doesn’t drop from her face.
Dahlia introduces herself to the engineer and architect next, both of whom check her out.
Are you seriously going to get jealous of your own employees?
With the way Dahlia looks up at them with her big brown eyes and wide smile, hell yeah I am.
“Let’s start,” I lash out, wanting to get this walk-through over with before I fire someone.
At first, Dahlia was hesitant to speak up, allowing me to take the lead, but after ten minutes, she warmed up to my team and started acting like her typical self.
I find myself at a loss for words as I watch her collaborate with my team like she’s spent years working with them rather than an hour. I’m impressed with her wealth of knowledge, and Ryder seems equally blown away by her experience with Victorian homes.
He scribbles something down on his clipboard. “With the changes you want, I feel like we could definitely have this thing done within the three months Julian requested.”
“Three months?” Dahlia glances over her shoulder. “I thought you said it could take six to eight.”
I tip my chin. “Change of plans.”
Her eyes narrow. “How fortunate.”
Except since Dahlia crashed back into my life, I’ve felt anything but.
She carries on, and my men do everything they can to support her. I take a step away from the team to answer a call, only to come back to the crew laughing at something she said.
“What’s going on?”
Ryder grins. “Dahlia was telling us a story about the difference between real-life home renos and the ones she did on TV.”
“And?”
“Turns out production filmed another construction worker’s hands for certain scenes since her fiancé had no idea what he was doing.”
“Ex-fiancé.” I have no idea why I choose to clarify, but I regret it the moment I say the word.
Dahlia’s hands clench by her sides. “Julian. A word?”
My stomach drops as she storms off toward the kitchen, leaving me alone with my crew.
Ryder winces. “Damn. Was it something we said?”
“Just me being a dumbass. Carry on.” I turn in the direction Dahlia headed. It takes me a minute to find her outside, staring out at the lake with her good arm tucked against her sling.
“What was that back there?”
“A mistake.” I’ve been stumbling my way across a tightrope of emotions, and one mention of Oliver had me tumbling straight into a pit of jealousy.
Her eyes remain focused on the view. “Do you like trying to make me feel small?”
My head rears back. “Of course not.”
Dahlia turns. “If this is your plan to run me out of town, you better try harder than that. I didn’t spend the last five years of my life dealing with internet trolls and a future monster-inlaw to back down at the first sign of adversity. That much I can tell you.”
“I’m not—” I try to center myself. “You’ve got this all wrong.”
Although I want her to leave Lake Wisteria, I wouldn’t embarrass her in front of my team to speed up the process, especially not when I see how much she struggles around people lately.
Her eyes narrow. “Then feel free to explain.”
Thing is, I don’t want to explain because then I would need to admit I’m still jealous of Oliver after spending years convincing myself I was over everything that went down between him, Dahlia, and myself.
So, instead of admitting the truth, I stick to my comfort zone.
I tuck my hands into my pockets. “I could have gotten rid of you weeks ago instead of going through the trouble of working together.”
Her head tilts to the side. “Oh, really?”
“The mayor still has a reward listed for any information about who egged his Jaguar twelve years ago.”
Dahlia’s eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Keep assuming the worst of me and I might.”
Her nostrils flare. “If you don’t want me to assume the worst, keep the blackmail to a minimum. It tends to send the wrong message.”
I fight a laugh. “Fair enough.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Julian
Expanding my company beyond Lake Wisteria’s borders was always part of the plan. I spent the last year researching neighboring lake towns, attending town hall meetings, and visiting countless open houses to make sure I picked the right second location for Lopez Luxury.
I should be ecstatic about purchasing my first house in Lake Aurora after how hard it was to get the town to warm up to my plan to drive up tourism and triple property values. Instead, I’m stuck with a hollow feeling while my signature dries on the dotted line.
My real estate agent tucks the contract into her file. “I’ll reach out to your assistant once the owners of the manor on Juniper Lane agree to sell.”
“You’re confident they will?”
She slides the file into her briefcase before throwing the strap over her shoulder. “Oh, yeah. It’s only a matter of time. Plus, I already have two other families ready to sell a chunk of their land. It seems people are more willing to part with their properties after seeing what you did with the town.”
“Great.” My enthusiasm falls flat.
Her gray brows scrunch. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No. Keep Sam posted about the other sales.” I stand and walk her out of my private office.
Sam drops his sandwich and takes over walking the real estate agent out to the parking lot.
“The floors have to go,” Dahlia’s voice announces.
What the hell?
I scan the room and hallway for Dahlia, only to find them empty.
“We don’t have the budget for that,” Oliver’s cheery voice follows.
An episode of Dahlia’s show plays on Sam’s computer monitor. I reach to pause the episode, only to stop before I hit the space bar.
Dahlia looks over at Oliver with a frown. “You told me yesterday we were under-budget and on track to finish early.”
“That was before we found out about the issue in the attic.” He tucks a screwdriver into his tool belt.