Julia
“It’s… Well, uh–”
“Can you imagine it, Julia? The garage will go there, and over here–” He waves his hand to the far side of what looks like it used to be a driveway of some kind, but grass has started spreading through every crack in the concrete. “I’m thinking three, four stories. With a pool, of course.”
I cross my arms under my breasts, my heels clacking on the concrete. “I’m not seeing it, Jake.”
Jake, my husband, rolls his brown eyes as he turns his back to me and spreads his arms wide. “This is twenty fucking acres, babe. We can’t get this in New Orleans.”
“I wanted ocean views.”
“Then I’ll cut down some trees, baby. Hell, the Gulf is right out there.” He whirls back to me, giving me that charming, cocky smile that made me fall in love with him three years ago. “I promised I’d build your dream house, didn’t I?”
“My dream,” I remind him as he nuzzles my neck, “was a pristine, white mansion on the beach.”
“I’ll build you another one then,” he laughs. “I’ll build you three mansions.”
“Fine, but I get to pick out the paint and flooring.”
“Oh, of course.”
He wraps his arms around my waist, but the sound of a large vehicle bumping down the severely overgrown driveway catches our attention.
I smooth the fabric of my tight white sundress and push my Gucci sunglasses up the bridge of my nose. “What the hell is the fire chief doing here?”
“He’s the volunteer fire chief, Julia. He’s also our contractor,” Jake says, running his fingers through his hair, his gold Rolex gleaming in the sun. “Listen, babe. I got a screaming deal on this property. Pennies compared to what it’s worth. We’re gonna build this house, and if you don’t love it, we’ll sell it for millions. I’ll buy you a fucking island in the Caribbean after this with the money I’m going to make. Just wait and see.”
I hum my approval. Jake is good with money. He can turn a penny into a million dollars in a blink.
Still, this place gives me the creeps.
I frown at the shaded groves of trees choked with vines that surround the cleared center of the property.
The fire chief, who is a lot younger and far more handsome than I envisioned, steps out of his truck and starts talking to Jake.
Bored, I start walking, acting like I’m entirely invested in this place and find every blade of grass interesting. I hear them talking, but I’m not paying attention. I lift my head and peer out in the distance, trying to see the Gulf.
I see something else instead.
“Is that a fucking cemetery?” I almost squeal before scoffing, and turning my back to the headstones rising in the distance. “Jesus Christ.”
“Julia, come over here and meet Tanner Hendricks.” Jake waves me over, and I reluctantly obey, casting a glance over my shoulder at the creepy cemetery and the standing water all around it. We’ll have to do something about that.
Tanner is tall with dark brown hair and a ruggedly handsome face. He looks like he chops wood and drinks straight whiskey. He probably wears flannel and has a Labrador, too.
“You must be a busy man,” I drawl, shaking his hand. “Fire chief, contractor, and… what else?”
“Just that, ma’am,” he says with a smile. “The fire department is volunteer, so I have to make a living somehow.”
“Speaking of fire,” Jake says, “The old house burned down, right?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Last summer.”
“I’ve seen pictures of the original house,” Jakes says, blowing out his breath. “What a loss.”
“Yeah, well, no one was more disappointed than the historical society. They were supposed to get the house when the last Gregory died. The family has owned this place for as long as anyone can remember. You’re the second owner in its entire history.”
“Lucky us,” I say sarcastically.
Jake shoots me a look then asks, “Why did the previous owner sell so cheap? Nobody’s been able to tell me that, but seeing as you’re local–”
“Penny Gregory passed away a few months ago. The land went to historical society, who see no need for it now that the house is gone. Her distant relatives didn’t want the property, so they sold it.”
“Is that who we contact about the cemetery?” I ask.
“If you want to know about who's buried there, the local archives–”
“To remove it,” I correct.
Tanner gives me an odd look, but Jake cuts in. “Let’s get down to business, shall we? I have a few things I want to run by you…”
Jake leads him away, leaving me in the center of the decaying driveway. I huff out an annoyed breath and pull my phone out of my purse. I barely have service. Is Jake really serious about this place?
I turn back to the marsh beyond the overgrown patch of flat land where the house used to sit. We’re supposed to be building a house to raise our future family in.
This isn’t what I envisioned.
I squint into the glare of the sun. Did I just see a man standing in the cemetery?
* * *
Tanner
I unlock my front door and walk inside my craftsman style house in the outskirts of Hahnville. It’s quiet. It usually is when Bailey isn’t home. She works three-twelves in New Orleans right now, and won’t be home until sometime tomorrow.
When she’s not in NOLA, she’s been staying here lately. I like having her around. We haven’t officially moved in together yet. I should ask her formally, I think. I should get down on one knee for that girl, honestly.
I should spread her legs and nibble down her inner thighs, then swipe my tongue through her folds until she squirms and starts begging for more.
“Christ,” I say out loud, scratching my head before running my hand down my face. I don’t know where those dominant thoughts came from, but my balls are tight and my cock is aching against my jeans.
I try to ignore the image of Bailey sprawled out beneath me, my hand squeezing her neck while she spasms around my cock. We’ve had sex lots of times, but we’ve never done anything like that.
I sit down at my desk in the living room, blinking to clear my mind as I boot up my computer and try to get some work done.
The couple who bought the old Gregory property are from Texas, apparently. They have big dreams for the massive mansion they’re wanting to build, but the wife isn’t so sure about the property itself.
I don’t blame her.
That place has always given me the creeps.
The fire last year had been a brutal reminder of how quickly these old plantation homes can wither to ash and dust. The Gregory estate was one of only a handful left.
Now, it will be a massive modern house with gold finishes.
My mind drifts back to the night of the fire as I go through blueprints. I get a text from one of my guys at the station just checking in. It’s a quiet night. No fires to put out, no car accidents. No need for me, at least not yet.
I have all night to start implementing the changes Jake wanted to see, but I find it hard to focus. Bailey keeps crowding my mind.
I get up an hour later to pour myself a drink. The house is too quiet without her laughter, so I hook up my phone to my Bluetooth speaker and put my music library on shuffle.
A song I don’t think I’ve ever heard before starts to play. I like the sound of it, but I don’t know where it came from. I look down at my phone. I must have added it to this playlist by accident at some point.
I tuck my phone in my pocket and sip my drink, leaning on the archway leading into the kitchen as I listen to the lyrics.
Bailey creeps back into my mind–naked, and looking over her shoulder. She beckons to me, her lips parted in a sly smile.
“Claim her,” comes a whispered voice from everywhere, and nowhere.
I blink. The vision of my girlfriend shatters, and I find myself alone again.
“Folks, I’m going down to St. James Infirmary–see my baby there. She’s laid out on a long white table. So sweet, so cold, so fair.”