From the front seat of Deanna’s car, Bennet bounced like an over-sugared toddler. “I’m so excited to finally see the place!”
Deanna only managed a tight smile that she suspected was more of a grimace. The idea of showing the house to her friends had sweat breaking out along her spine. But she was past the point of no return. Her lease had officially been broken, and several of her closest girlfriends were presently caravanning out to Blackborne Hall with all of her worldly possessions. Not that she had all that much after her divorce.
Over the past week, she and Wyatt had worked like dogs to make the house habitable for the duration of the renovation. They’d each chosen a room, and he’d determined the functionality of the bathroom they’d be sharing. Once they got into the walls to find out whether the rest of the plumbing had ever been replaced, they’d be able to determine whether that had to be on the immediate agenda. Traps had been set to deal with the rodent issue, and he’d re-homed a raccoon that had taken up residence in the laundry room via the hole for the dryer vent—now covered. The vines growing into the dining room had been removed and the windows temporarily boarded up. Above all, they’d cleaned and aired the place out. According to Wyatt, she’d gone above and beyond on that front, given demolition was slated to start as soon as the dumpster was delivered, but damn if she was moving her things into what felt like decades of nasty. She’d accepted she was moving into a construction zone, but she still had standards. It was far better than it had been the day she’d first seen it, but it was still rough, and she worried about what her friends would say.
As they turned into the drive, Bennet clapped her hands. “We’re here! We are here, right? This is the driveway?”
“Yes.” The closer they drew to the house, the tighter her chest got, until they broke free of the trees. The breath exploded out of her in shock.
In the two days since she’d last been out here, Wyatt had cleared away much of the overgrowth, fully exposing the front facade of the house, revealing shades of the grand dame she’d clearly been. Sunlight glinted off the freshly cleaned windows, and the yard, such as it was, had been mowed.
“Oh, wow,” Bennet breathed.
“Welcome to Blackborne Hall.”
Deanna parked to one side, leaving room for Jasmine to pull her SUV with the U-Haul trailer by the front steps.
They spilled out, automatically craning their necks to try to take in the whole thing.
“This place is gigantic!” Wendy exclaimed.
Jasmine stared at the house over the tops of her sunglasses. “I can’t believe you’re taking all this on.”
Feeling defensive of her baby, Deanna aimed for a confident tone. “It’s ambitious, but I’m really excited about it. One of the previous owners replaced the roof, so that’s one big expense I won’t have to take on. The rest, I’ll simply deal with as I go.”
They all exchanged a look.
“Are you… sure you really want to live here while you reno?” Adry asked.
“I don’t have much choice. Look, I know it needs work, but that was the point. I wanted a project. It’s going to be beautiful when I’m finished.” Even as she said it, Deanna realized she’d be making it beautiful for someone else.
A sick feeling set up in her gut. She didn’t want to put in all the time and effort only to lose the place in the end. But it was the only reasonable alternative, and she hardly had a right to be upset about it. In the long run, Wyatt was giving her an amazing deal. Not that she’d mentioned the terms of that to her friends. Her new roommate was something else she worried about their reactions to.
Bennet squeezed her shoulders. “I’m sure it will be lovely.”
“It’s got a damned sight more personality than that palace to modern architecture Blake talked you into,” Jasmine observed.
The palace he’d somehow won in the divorce.
Save it for demo day. Wyatt promised you a sledgehammer.
Wendy clapped her hands. “Okay people, let’s get unloaded. Everybody grab something.”
As they converged on various vehicles, Deanna went to check the door and found it locked. Where was Wyatt? She didn’t see his truck. Unlocking the door, she pushed it open, wondering if there were any other surprises waiting inside.
Now that the power was on, lights illuminated more signs of rot and decay. But it didn’t smell disgusting anymore. Not in here, anyway. The kitchen… Well, it needed a lot of help and was first on the list for demo day. As her friends came in, hauling boxes, she waited for their commentary on the state of the place.
“Does anybody else feel like they just walked into Mrs. Havisham’s house, southern edition?” Wendy asked.
“With all that rolling land, I’m kinda feeling a Jane Austen aesthetic,” Adry said. “Like one of those genteelly impoverished ladies. Can’t you totally see a fainting couch in front of that big window?”
“Are we hoping for a gentleman of means to come woo Deanna?” Jasmine asked.
“I am not interested in being wooed, thank you very much.”
“Maybe just a hot stableboy for a steamy affair. There should totally be one with a place like this,” Jasmine mused. At Deanna’s bland stare, she just shrugged. “What? You’ve got needs that deserve to be met from something other than your toy collection.”
Cheeks on fire, Deanna was suddenly grateful for Wyatt’s absence. “Can we not talk about that?”
“I’m getting strong post-war Tara vibes,” Bennet observed.
“I think there might have been a sweet potato in the last of the food we packed up from the kitchen. If you like, I can do my best Scarlett O’Hara impression about how I shall never go hungry again,” Deanna offered. “Or I can give you a quick tour of where we’re putting stuff.”
“I mean, if you want to be all practical about it.”
Because the vast majority of the house would have work being done, everything that wasn’t an absolute necessity was staying in boxes and being piled into the downstair room that needed the least work. As projects were completed, she’d shift things around to a more permanent home. She led them upstairs to the room she’d earmarked as hers, at least for now.
“Just put stuff in the corner, so there’s room to assemble the bed.”
Bennet carried her box into the adjoining bathroom. “Uh, Dee? I think you’ve got a problem.”
“Is something leaking?” Paranoid, she stepped inside, only to find that Bennet had gone all the way through to the bedroom on the other side.
There was a cot with a sleeping bag in one corner and a duffel bag of clothes. A series of milk crates lined one wall and organized some other stuff.
“I think you’ve got a squatter,” Bennet hissed.
“No, she’s got a contractor.” Wyatt stepped into the room.
Bennet’s eyes went wide, and she blindly slapped at Deanna’s arm. “Girl. You got DIWyatt to renovate your house?”
He grinned. “That is the plan, yes.”
“What’s going on?” Jasmine came through the bathroom, trailed by Wendy and Adry. She drew up short as she spotted Wyatt, her mouth forming into an O before melting into a wicked grin.
Before she could share whatever observation she was about to make, Deanna leapt in to make introductions. “Wyatt, these are my friends, Bennet Hartley, Jasmine Meecham, Wendy Coolidge, and Adry Patel. They’re here to help me move. Y’all, this is my contractor, Wyatt Sullivan of DIWyatt. He’s going to be filming the renovation for his show, and I’m going to be helping him with PR in exchange for his assistance.”
Bennet pointed to the cot. “And that?”
“He’s living here during the renovation,” Deanna explained.
“So you’ll be roommates,” Jasmine clarified.
“And business partners,” Wyatt confirmed. “Speaking of which, the dumpster should be delivered this afternoon, so we can get started on demo. I’m scheduling a volunteer workday on Saturday and Sunday. The more hands we can get on deck, the faster that part will go, and the faster we can get into guts of the restoration.”
Deanna certainly liked the idea of that. “Do you have plans for lining up volunteers?”
“A bunch of my family is coming. They might bring friends.” He flashed another smile. “Yours are welcome, too.”
“Oh, no way am I missing this,” Bennet declared.
“Come ready to get dirty.”
More footsteps tromped down the hall. “Wyatt, bro, where do you want the kitchen set up?”
A younger guy with smooth, bronze skin and close-cropped black hair stuck his head through the door. Deanna pegged him around twentyish. At the sight of everyone else, he paused, then flashed a blinding white grin. “Ladies.”
“Y’all, this is Simon Boyd, my right-hand man. Excuse us.”
As they trooped back downstairs, Deanna found herself the center of everybody’s attention. Per usual, it was Jasmine who said what they were all thinking. “You’re gonna be living with your hot contractor?”
“Not like that. We’re just sharing space under the same roof. It’s a big house.” Although it didn’t feel that big when she realized they’d only be separated by one little bathroom at night. Not that she was gonna bring that up.
“Not that big,” Bennet muttered, as if reading her mind.
“Can we not? Please? I’d really just like to get everything unloaded.”
They got to work, emptying vehicles, making endless trips up the stairs and to the temporary storage room. By the time they were ready to start with the furniture, Simon and Wyatt had the temporary kitchen set up in the front parlor. Sawhorse counters were arranged in an L-shape. A microwave, slow cooker, and a hot plate were ranged across the top, and a series of more stacked milk crates made a sort of cubby system underneath for supplies and cookware. A dorm-sized mini-fridge sat at one end, with a plastic bin of the kind used for bussing tables perched on top.
Deanna went brows up. “This is really well thought out.”
“Well, I’ve been doing it this way a long time, so I’ve more or less got the system fine-tuned. The microwave is also a convection oven, and there’s a grill out back, too.” At her blink of surprise, Wyatt just grinned. “Did you think I lived off of takeout all the time?”
“I mean… kinda.” She’d just assumed he worked hard enough that he burned it all off. There was no sign of a gut beneath that T-shirt.
“I eat my fair share, but it’s usually cheaper to cook. And I make a mean grilled pizza and burgers.”
Her stomach growled at the mention of food. “Saying so without being prepared to immediately back up the claim is just mean.”
“Still gotta stock the actual food, but soon. I promise.”
He was going to cook for her? Blake had certainly never lifted a finger to prepare a thing. The idea of a guy who could not only cook but actually wanted to was novel enough to make her stare. Realizing she’d been doing just that, she dropped her gaze and brushed her hands off. “We’ll have to discuss how we’re gonna do groceries and meals and stuff.”
“We’ll work it out. Need some help with the furniture?”
Kicking her brain back in gear, she nodded. “Yeah. There’s not too much left. I’m not quite sure we can get the bed upstairs by ourselves.”
“No problem. Simon.”
“Your wish is our command, my lady. But your worthy knights would appreciate payment in traditional Italian pies with extra cheese.”
Wyatt hooked his arm around Simon’s neck. “He’s both a goofball and a bottomless pit.”
“Attempting to fill the pit is the least I can do. Pizza and beer are the traditional moving day payment for a crowd.”
Simon laid a hand over his heart and sketched a bow. “A noblewoman, indeed.”
“This one’s not legal drinking age yet.”
“Dude! Nearly!”
“Two more months, little bro.”
Deanna was still laughing at Simon’s affront as she pulled out her phone to dial the order in.
Wyatt strolled through the house, excited as a kid on Christmas morning as he got footage of the Before. Demolition was often his favorite part of a project, ripping out the damaged, the dated, and the disgusting to reveal the canvas beneath. Sometimes it meant finding unexpected treasures, like original hardwoods or brick. Just as often, it revealed some kind of problem he wasn’t expecting. He wondered what it would be today.
After the dumpster got delivered, he’d put out a call for volunteers on the family group text that included all the greater Nashville area foster siblings. Over the past couple flips, that had resulted in a solid showing of extra hands. He’d met a bunch of them at the last family reunion and had enjoyed getting to know the sibs he hadn’t met during his time with Joan and hearing stories that were much like his own.
The front door opened and Simon called out, “Knock, knock!”
“Doesn’t count as knocking when you’re already inside.” Which normally wouldn’t bother him, but he had a roommate to consider on this flip. Deanna might not be comfortable with more folks just randomly walking in.
“Yeah, well, you’ve got incoming, and it looks like Mateo brought donuts.”
The man in question stepped inside, bakery box in hand. “It’s why I’m everybody’s favorite brother.”
“You’re topping my list this morning.” Wyatt lifted the lid and grabbed a chocolate glazed.
“I figure we’ll work them off.” Mateo handed the box off to Simon, who filched two and went to set the rest in their makeshift kitchen.
“That’s for damned sure. It’s a big house. A lot of work to do.” Wyatt turned to take in the foyer, already imagining the wallpaper gone, though that wouldn’t happen today.
“Room for two more?”
Wyatt turned to see Caleb Romero stride in, a willowy young woman behind him. In the entryway to the temporary kitchen, Simon made a choking noise, his mouth full of most of a donut. Hastily, he tried to swallow and fell into a fit of coughing.
Wyatt stifled a laugh and turned to Caleb and his step-daughter, Fiona. “Didn’t expect you to be here. Isn’t Emerson about ready to pop?”
Caleb’s wife was very, very pregnant with their first child.
“That’s exactly why we’re here,” Fiona explained. “She’s due in a month, and Caleb’s hovering is driving her nuts. She basically threw him out of the house. I’m here to make sure he stays out.”
Simon swallowed and finally found his voice. “And Emerson is your…?”
“Godmother. Mom. Aunt. It’s complicated.”
“We kinda specialize in complicated family situations around here.”
Fiona’s mouth curved into a smile. “So I hear.”
Wyatt could practically see the cartoon hearts popping out above Simon’s head. This was gonna be interesting.
More vehicles pulled up out front. Griff and Levi came inside, trailed by Bennet and Jasmine.
“Thank y’all for coming.” Wyatt made introductions.
“Where’s Deanna?” Bennet asked.
“Stuck on a client call. She’ll be down as soon as she shakes loose.”
As everybody laid siege to the rest of the box of donuts, Wyatt briefed them. “So here’s the plan. We’re ripping up carpet everywhere there’s carpet. Hopefully, there will be hardwoods throughout, but even if there isn’t, the carpet’s gotta go. In the rear section of the house, we’re tearing out walls to open bigger rooms back up. I’ve marked all those with spray paint. In the kitchen, we’ll be ripping out all the cabinets and walls. Ultimately, the brick floor will need some love, but we’ll skip that for the moment. Most of these walls should be lath and plaster. If you come across any tongue and groove as you rip layers out, come find me. We want to salvage any wood we can. That includes any of the original trim. Pry bars, hammers, and sledgehammers are here. Let’s talk about who’s doing what.”
Wyatt was in the middle of handing out assignments when Deanna thudded down the stairs. He caught a quick flash of fury on her face before she spotted the gathered volunteers and pasted on a facsimile of a smile.
“Good morning.”
Despite the shorts and tank top, this was the PR professional, not the woman who’d been getting up well before the crack of dawn and putting in several more hours on the house after she got home from work. Wyatt found he preferred the unfiltered version of her. “For those of you who don’t know, this is Deanna James. Blackborne Hall belongs to her.”
He could still sense the simmer and bubble of her temper beneath the surface as he introduced the others. Rolling with the understanding that her client call hadn’t gone well, he offered her a sledgehammer. “The lady of the house gets first swing. Where do you want to start?”
She curled her hands around the handle. “Kitchen.”
“Perfect. Simon, go kill the power in the relevant sectors before we start tearing things down. Then you’re on camera duty.”
“You got it.”
The others followed as Wyatt trailed Deanna into the kitchen. She eyed the room as if it had personally offended her. What the hell had happened on that call?
“Nothing in here is salvageable. We’re tearing it down to studs.” He steered her toward the water damaged wall and nodded toward the sledgehammer in her hands. “You know how to use one of these?”
“Heavy end hits the idiots in the head.”
“I mean, that’s one way.”
“Wait, wait! I’ve got you, girl!” Bennet pulled a giant sharpie from somewhere and drew a stick man on the wall. Beside it, she added a stick woman. Above them, she scrawled “Blake” and “Mercy Lee,” then stepped back with a flourish.
Jasmine snickered.
Before he could offer any instruction, Deanna hefted the hammer, slamming it straight into Stick Mercy Lee’s face, caving in the plaster and laths beneath.
“Well, okay then.” He’d known she had work ethic, but maybe those pretty, manicured hands were more capable than he’d expected. “Why don’t we give you some time alone.”
He redirected everyone else to other rooms, pausing to open all the windows for cross ventilation. When he came back to the kitchen, Deanna was still systematically destroying the wall. Stick Mercy Lee was already half gone. Keeping one eye on her, he began prying up countertops.
“So was it Mercy Lee on the phone this morning?”
“Of course it was.” She swung the sledgehammer into Stick Mercy Lee’s knee.
He’d been hearing bits and pieces of the bullshit she’d had to deal with as they’d worked together the past week. “Wasn’t the interview and photoshoot for that magazine spread today?”
“Yep.” Another leg caved in.
“Did she try to get out of it?”
“She tried to change the location at the last minute, when the photographer was already set up at the spot designated weeks ago. When all the staff and the reporter and a dozen other people are already on site preparing to make her look amazing. Because inconveniencing people means nothing to her.” She knocked out the rest of Stick Mercy Lee.
“I’m afraid to ask if the shoot got moved.”
“It did not get moved, and she will be where she’s supposed to be—albeit late.”
“Do I want to know how you convinced her of that?”
“Voodoo.”
Wyatt couldn’t tell if she was joking and decided it was safer not to ask as she started in on Stick Blake.
“What about Blake? Is he a client or the ex-husband?” He wondered which had inspired this fury of destruction.
“Ex-weasel.”
“Got it.” He ripped off trim from the side of the cabinets. “What’d he do to merit having the shit beaten out of him in effigy?”
With a savage glare, she growled again.
Wyatt lifted his hands in surrender. “Whatever it was, he obviously deserved it.”
Deanna swung, taking out Stick Blake’s arm. “I was fool enough to support the lazy son of a bitch while he pursued a music career—for a decade. I paid for the too lavish lifestyle he insisted he needed. I made a career entirely around learning how to make him look good. I fucking made him. And he thanks me by banging his mistress in our bed.” She drove the hammer through Stick Blake’s crotch. “And yet somehow, when I divorced his ass, I’m the one who got saddled with alimony and most of the debts he ran up in my name. Because it happens the judge was one of his daddy’s golf buddies.”
That explained a lot about her financial predicament. Wyatt couldn’t fathom taking advantage of someone like that.
“Damn,” Simon muttered. “Need someone to help you beat his ass for real? Because he totally deserves it.”
When the hell had he wandered in?
Deanna whirled, her face going a little pale as she spotted the camera. “You can’t post that.”
“We won’t post any footage of you without your express permission,” Wyatt assured her. “Nobody will get used unless they sign a release.”
“Offer still stands,” Simon added.
One corner of her unpainted mouth quirked as she cleared broken laths with one gloved hand. “As gratifying as that would be, I’d be better off with a matchmaker. The only way I get free of him is if he marries someone else. Well, or pisses off someone else enough that he gets run over by a bus.”
“Afraid I’m fresh out of matchmakers and buses. But we’ve got plenty of stuff for you to break.” Wyatt yanked the counter away and dragged it to the pile on the other side of the room. “C’mon. Take a shot at this base cabinet.”
“I’ll take it.” Choking up on the handle, she swung, crashing the sledgehammer into the end of the cabinet. Wood splintered and a satisfied grin peeked out.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Yes, it does.” She swung again.
Wyatt couldn’t help but notice the bunch and flex of her surprisingly toned arms and the long, smooth legs exposed by her shorts. He really dug capable women, and Deanna James was proving to be both a quick learner and extremely competent. But beyond all that, he was finding all these brief glimpses of the woman underneath the mask as intriguing as the potential of Blackborne Hall itself. He remembered that unguarded moment here when she’d said that this house was like her life.
What would Deanna herself look like if all the bullshit in her world were stripped away and she could actually be herself? Would she even know what to do with that? And why did it feel just as important to help her with that as it did with the house?
She’s a client, idiot.
Determined to redirect his attention from wondering if her skin was as soft as it looked, he reached to yank at the loosened base cabinet and found Simon with the camera pointed in his direction, tongue firmly in cheek.