Read Online Better Homes and Hauntings by Molly Harper - Free Book Online
Authors: Molly Harper
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Deacon’s name, his parents honored the family tradition of rummaging through the house for any overlooked knickknacks that could be hocked or sold outright.
Nina’s background check had been an interesting, but troubling, read. He knew about the bankruptcy, the fraud charges, the trouble she’d had obtaining her own business loans and license. He felt a certain kinship with her. That combined with the fact that she was so lushly beautiful had made him fidgety and somewhat awkward during their initial interview at his office. He’d tried to converse with her professionally, as if she was any other contractor involved in the Crane’s Nest project, but he’d ended up dropping the cup of piping-hot espresso his assistant had just delivered directly onto his left hand. Nina had rounded the desk in no time, quietly and competently using her purse-sized first-aid kit to apply ointment and a bandage to his burned skin. The fact that she was so ill at ease but still managed to function and care for another person told him all he needed to know about Nina Linden.
But still, possible shared trauma and his family’s sordid financial history seemed like a lot of information to pile into a near-stranger’s lap. So instead, he finally answered, “For years, this house was a symbol of my family’s bad luck, of failure, shame, tragedy. I want to be able to show people that things have changed, to restore the family name to where it was, maybe even a little bit better.”
“I suppose adding ‘because now you have more money than they do’ is a vulgar way to put it?”
Deacon chuckled. “Probably, but no less vulgar than me wanting to prove that I’ve made something of myself. Genes, even if they link you to some of the unluckiest bastards on the planet, do not determine destiny. So we’re going to fix this place up and prove it to the world.”
Nina’s expression slid from concerned to slightly disappointed. His answer made sense. It was a crappy, shallow answer, but it made sense.
Deacon noticed Nina’s frown. “Hoping for something a little more altruistic?”
Before she could respond to his oh-so-cheerful observations, Nina turned toward the sound of loud arguing as Cindy and Jake, yelling at the top of their lungs, were practically jogging across the lawn toward the fountain, arms waving. Anthony followed at a leisurely pace, as if his colleagues weren’t going insane before his very eyes. Deacon sighed and walked toward them.
“What now?” he huffed.
Anthony continued past them, taking a seat next to Nina on the fountain. “Did Jake go too far with his version of quote-unquote flirting?” she asked quietly.
Anthony shook his balding gray head, folding his hands over his beer belly. “I’m not sure. I was in the grand ballroom with my crew and ran to do damage control when I heard the yelling. Blood is hell to get out of parquet flooring.”
“Surely it won’t go that far,” Nina murmured.
“You missed the part where she threatened him with grout cleaner.”
“Well, there’s a complex history there,” she started, but Anthony cut her off.
“They’ll either stab each other or sleep together before the first month is out. Given the grout cleaner, I’d be willing to put a twenty on stabbing.”
“That would be completely wrong and unethical and . . .” Nina said just as Cindy called Jake an “overgelled, classless troll” in a tone so sweet it sounded like a compliment. Nina lowered her voice to say, “I’ll put thirty on sleeping together.”
Anthony gave an exaggerated mock gasp. “And you seem like such a nice girl!”
“Whit, would you tell this woman that she has no right to move entire rooms around on my blueprints?” Jake demanded.
Cindy was all acidic smiles and saccharine sweetness. “Mr. Whitney, would you please explain to your architect that these storage areas are part of an organization plan that you approved?” she practically cooed. “You asked Anthony to
Nina’s background check had been an interesting, but troubling, read. He knew about the bankruptcy, the fraud charges, the trouble she’d had obtaining her own business loans and license. He felt a certain kinship with her. That combined with the fact that she was so lushly beautiful had made him fidgety and somewhat awkward during their initial interview at his office. He’d tried to converse with her professionally, as if she was any other contractor involved in the Crane’s Nest project, but he’d ended up dropping the cup of piping-hot espresso his assistant had just delivered directly onto his left hand. Nina had rounded the desk in no time, quietly and competently using her purse-sized first-aid kit to apply ointment and a bandage to his burned skin. The fact that she was so ill at ease but still managed to function and care for another person told him all he needed to know about Nina Linden.
But still, possible shared trauma and his family’s sordid financial history seemed like a lot of information to pile into a near-stranger’s lap. So instead, he finally answered, “For years, this house was a symbol of my family’s bad luck, of failure, shame, tragedy. I want to be able to show people that things have changed, to restore the family name to where it was, maybe even a little bit better.”
“I suppose adding ‘because now you have more money than they do’ is a vulgar way to put it?”
Deacon chuckled. “Probably, but no less vulgar than me wanting to prove that I’ve made something of myself. Genes, even if they link you to some of the unluckiest bastards on the planet, do not determine destiny. So we’re going to fix this place up and prove it to the world.”
Nina’s expression slid from concerned to slightly disappointed. His answer made sense. It was a crappy, shallow answer, but it made sense.
Deacon noticed Nina’s frown. “Hoping for something a little more altruistic?”
Before she could respond to his oh-so-cheerful observations, Nina turned toward the sound of loud arguing as Cindy and Jake, yelling at the top of their lungs, were practically jogging across the lawn toward the fountain, arms waving. Anthony followed at a leisurely pace, as if his colleagues weren’t going insane before his very eyes. Deacon sighed and walked toward them.
“What now?” he huffed.
Anthony continued past them, taking a seat next to Nina on the fountain. “Did Jake go too far with his version of quote-unquote flirting?” she asked quietly.
Anthony shook his balding gray head, folding his hands over his beer belly. “I’m not sure. I was in the grand ballroom with my crew and ran to do damage control when I heard the yelling. Blood is hell to get out of parquet flooring.”
“Surely it won’t go that far,” Nina murmured.
“You missed the part where she threatened him with grout cleaner.”
“Well, there’s a complex history there,” she started, but Anthony cut her off.
“They’ll either stab each other or sleep together before the first month is out. Given the grout cleaner, I’d be willing to put a twenty on stabbing.”
“That would be completely wrong and unethical and . . .” Nina said just as Cindy called Jake an “overgelled, classless troll” in a tone so sweet it sounded like a compliment. Nina lowered her voice to say, “I’ll put thirty on sleeping together.”
Anthony gave an exaggerated mock gasp. “And you seem like such a nice girl!”
“Whit, would you tell this woman that she has no right to move entire rooms around on my blueprints?” Jake demanded.
Cindy was all acidic smiles and saccharine sweetness. “Mr. Whitney, would you please explain to your architect that these storage areas are part of an organization plan that you approved?” she practically cooed. “You asked Anthony to
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