Read Online Home Sweet Home (A Southern Comfort Novel) by Sarah Title - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Title
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forget what a snob she was, and how she wasted beer. She’d only talked to Mary Beth and Todd, and Missy a little bit. Actually, she’d talked to most of the women at the party. And most of the single men. But she always had this weird look on her face like she couldn’t wait to get out of the conversation. Like she was scared of talking to regular people.
That’s what Mary Beth got for bringing a professor to a townie party.
And now he was stuck driving her home.
Which was also Mary Beth’s fault. Grace had a mouse, apparently, although she repeatedly referred to it as a “hell-beast.” So Big Manly Jake had to get involved. All the stores were closed for the Fourth of July, so they couldn’t get any traps, and he was going to have to use all of his MacGyver skills to catch this sucker. He had to admit, he was a little excited about that. Poor mouse didn’t know what was coming at him.
If the mouse was smart, it would get out of that house fast, and not just because of Jake’s ingenuity. The house was falling apart. No, that wasn’t it. It was a good house, solid bones, and, frankly, it was in excellent shape for its age. Jake probably would have passed on a house like that. There wouldn’t have been enough work for him to do to justify flipping it. Maybe he could have updated the kitchen. But he liked that old gas range and the big checkerboard tiles. The built-in glass cabinet was in kind of a strange spot—across from the stove and the sink, totally inconvenient for fast dish-reaching—but it was a beautiful piece of carpentry.
Whenever he bought a house to flip, he would walk through each room and close his eyes until he got a vision for what it should look like. Then he had to think about neutral décor and neighborhood comparables and all the stuff that made his job work. Then he’d measure and calculate and make it happen.
He’d have to spend some time in Grace’s house. He’d barely seen the living room when he came in to do the wallpaper, and was so annoyed with her when he left that he forgot all about his curiosity. But he was curious. He wanted to see how Grace envisioned the rooms, how she used the unusual spaces in the house. Probably a lot of throw pillows. She probably embroidered them. With pictures of cats.
By the time he pulled into her driveway, he realized he’d barely said two words to her the whole ride over. A taste of her own medicine, he thought, but that idea didn’t turn out to be very appealing. He didn’t have to sink to her level.
She climbed out of the car and yanked her sundress down. She’d seemed uncomfortable all afternoon in that thing. Why did she wear it, then? What was she trying to prove?
“Would you mind going in first?” she asked, holding out her keys. “I’m sorry. I know this is ridiculous, but it has been a very strange and stressful day, and I’m pretty sure if I see a mouse, I’ll cry.”
The only thing Jake disliked more than snotty professors was a crying woman. He took the keys from her and led the way up the stairs. But when he turned the key, nothing happened. He tried jamming it to the left, then to the right, but it was so stuck that he was afraid he was going to break the key off in the door.
“Is it stuck again? Here, let me,” Grace said, reaching around him for the key. She reinserted it into the lock, jiggled it up and down twice, pulled it out a little, and turned. The door opened.
“Interesting,” he said, stepping into the house in front of her.
“I like to think of it as a home security system.”
“Grace, I don’t think a burglar is going to try the lock.”
He could see on her face that she was working on a pithy comeback, one of her self-deprecating little barbs that would have him laughing despite himself. But then her face turned ghost-white and he could actually see the scream working its way up her throat.
He turned just as she threw herself onto his back. The scream worked its way out, straight into his
That’s what Mary Beth got for bringing a professor to a townie party.
And now he was stuck driving her home.
Which was also Mary Beth’s fault. Grace had a mouse, apparently, although she repeatedly referred to it as a “hell-beast.” So Big Manly Jake had to get involved. All the stores were closed for the Fourth of July, so they couldn’t get any traps, and he was going to have to use all of his MacGyver skills to catch this sucker. He had to admit, he was a little excited about that. Poor mouse didn’t know what was coming at him.
If the mouse was smart, it would get out of that house fast, and not just because of Jake’s ingenuity. The house was falling apart. No, that wasn’t it. It was a good house, solid bones, and, frankly, it was in excellent shape for its age. Jake probably would have passed on a house like that. There wouldn’t have been enough work for him to do to justify flipping it. Maybe he could have updated the kitchen. But he liked that old gas range and the big checkerboard tiles. The built-in glass cabinet was in kind of a strange spot—across from the stove and the sink, totally inconvenient for fast dish-reaching—but it was a beautiful piece of carpentry.
Whenever he bought a house to flip, he would walk through each room and close his eyes until he got a vision for what it should look like. Then he had to think about neutral décor and neighborhood comparables and all the stuff that made his job work. Then he’d measure and calculate and make it happen.
He’d have to spend some time in Grace’s house. He’d barely seen the living room when he came in to do the wallpaper, and was so annoyed with her when he left that he forgot all about his curiosity. But he was curious. He wanted to see how Grace envisioned the rooms, how she used the unusual spaces in the house. Probably a lot of throw pillows. She probably embroidered them. With pictures of cats.
By the time he pulled into her driveway, he realized he’d barely said two words to her the whole ride over. A taste of her own medicine, he thought, but that idea didn’t turn out to be very appealing. He didn’t have to sink to her level.
She climbed out of the car and yanked her sundress down. She’d seemed uncomfortable all afternoon in that thing. Why did she wear it, then? What was she trying to prove?
“Would you mind going in first?” she asked, holding out her keys. “I’m sorry. I know this is ridiculous, but it has been a very strange and stressful day, and I’m pretty sure if I see a mouse, I’ll cry.”
The only thing Jake disliked more than snotty professors was a crying woman. He took the keys from her and led the way up the stairs. But when he turned the key, nothing happened. He tried jamming it to the left, then to the right, but it was so stuck that he was afraid he was going to break the key off in the door.
“Is it stuck again? Here, let me,” Grace said, reaching around him for the key. She reinserted it into the lock, jiggled it up and down twice, pulled it out a little, and turned. The door opened.
“Interesting,” he said, stepping into the house in front of her.
“I like to think of it as a home security system.”
“Grace, I don’t think a burglar is going to try the lock.”
He could see on her face that she was working on a pithy comeback, one of her self-deprecating little barbs that would have him laughing despite himself. But then her face turned ghost-white and he could actually see the scream working its way up her throat.
He turned just as she threw herself onto his back. The scream worked its way out, straight into his
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