I jerk back.
His eyes shut. “Shit. Sorry, Dahlia. That was unfair of me.” The iciness in my chest that seems to vanish in Julian’s presence returns with the strength of a blizzard.
“No worries. I’ve dealt with worse comments.” I walk around Julian, ignoring the spark that flares between us when his skin brushes against mine as I head toward the next room.
“Wait!” He yanks on my arm.
“What are you doing?” I shake him off.
He tightens his hold, making my stomach dive in the process. “You almost walked into a spiderweb.”
I look up from his arm wrapped around my middle to the massive web hanging like a curtain under the archway.
“Oh God.” I shudder.
I freaking hate spiders.
Julian releases me, taking his warmth with him. “I’ll take the lead.”
I wave a shaky hand toward the spiderweb. “Go ahead.”
“You could at least try to put up a fight about wanting to be in charge.”
“Sorry. The feminism left my body the moment you mentioned spiders.”
His lips curve at the corners. “Some things never change.”
It only takes a single smile from him to make me forget I was mad in the first place.
He used your relationship with Oliver as a weapon. Act like it!
I kill whatever buzz I felt as Julian leads the way.
Julian and I make our way through the entire house, cataloging each room and all the work that needs to be done. He writes diligent notes on his phone while I take photos of every room.
Tension between us builds with every pass of the measuring tape, leaving me cranky and desperate to go home as we get to the seventh bedroom. When I hold my hand out in a silent request, Julian holds the tape hostage.
“What?” I grind out.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Should we mark this special occasion?”
A wrinkle cuts across his forehead from how hard he frowns. “I’m sorry for what I said downstairs.”
“Fine.”
Do I forgive him for losing his cool? Yeah.
Does that mean I’m not pissed about what he said? No, seeing as this is the second time he has used my failed relationship as a weapon against me.
I bite down on my tongue hard enough to taste blood. “Tape, please.”
He doesn’t make a move to pass it, so I lift my hand and wiggle my fingers.
His deep sigh of resignation echoes off the high ceiling. “I haven’t been able to go into my dad’s woodshop since he passed away.”
My arm drops like a dead weight.
Julian continues, “I’m not sure why I’m telling you this.” He pauses for a brief second. “I mean, I know why. I feel shitty for snapping at you earlier, and this is my way of making up for it.”
“I appreciate the thought, but please feel free to stop sharing at any time.” I keep my voice flat despite my rising heart rate. Julian confessing his deepest feelings isn’t part of our arrangement.
Neither is you feeling sorry for him in light of it.
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.”