Read Online In Love Again by Megan Mulry - Free Book Online Page B

wanted.
    “Yes, all business.” She smiled, this time with more feeling, but even she knew the feeling was probably regret for what would never be. How could she possibly launch into some playful, romantic walk down memory lane when everything inside her felt so raw and confusing?
    They spent the next two hours going over the paperwork. The endless paperwork. Claire was almost maniacally particular. He tried to wave his hand over a few order forms, mumbling, “Fine, fine, whatever you decide on the baseboards in the guest bathroom is fine.”
    “No, pay attention! It’s the little details that will make all the difference!” She hadn’t come all this way to have him fade out after a few hours. She wanted to show Boppy and everyone in the office that she could get results.
    “What?” He was obviously ready to be finished. With the house. With the lingering attachment to his ex-wife that this renovation had become. And now he appeared to be adding her to his mental list of people who were not living up to his expectations. He almost growled. “Now, see here, Claire. I’ve had enough . I don’t know what you’re playing at but I’m the customer here. You’re here to serve me, remember?”
    She flushed horribly. “I— I’m so—”
    “Oh, quit it. You know what I mean. I’m paying Boppy Matthews’s stupid hourly fee to get you and your nest of vipers up here every few weeks so we can get this stupid job finished and put an end to this entire farce. If someone wanted to buy it as is, I’d sell it this instant.” He looked so angry; she wasn’t even sure he knew what he was saying. “Just put whatever baseboards in that bathroom that you would put in one of the gamekeepers’ cottages at one of your castles and let’s call it a day. Cheap and cheerful and all that. I’m done.” He stood up abruptly, nearly kicking over the metal folding chair as he did.
    Claire felt as though every word was a punch. He didn’t respect her job. He didn’t respect her past. He didn’t respect anything about her. She refused to cry. It would be much easier to channel her shame—like a weak stream redirected with a few leaves and pebbles—right over to indignation. She stood up, leaving a stack of work orders for him to review, and slid her own papers neatly into the blue leather case. She smiled her thinnest, meanest smile. “Very well then. Good day.”
    She walked out of the cluttered living room with as much dignity as she could muster, which was pretty much, considering. She got to the car and put the key in the ignition, started it up, and felt the chill in the air.
    “Damn.” She’d left Bronte’s jacket. Was it worth six weeks’ pay to never speak to him again? If she hadn’t seen the price tag, she might have left it and asked one of the other designers to retrieve it in a few weeks’ time at the next site visit…or she could send an email to Ben asking him to bring it to New York when he returned. She could send a messenger over to his apartment building and get it back that way.
    She slammed her palm against the steering wheel then rubbed her hands together. That actually hurt more in real life than it looked like it would when angry people in movies did it. Claire swore again then turned the car off, got out, and walked back up the wide steps to the beautiful wraparound porch. The wood was primed and repaired and the final coat of deck gray was set to go on next week. From the outside at least, the house was beginning to look finished.
    She rang the bell reluctantly.
    Ben opened the large door and said nothing.
    “I forgot my jacket…my sister-in-law’s jacket, actually…”
    “You must have closets full of jackets, Claire . What’s one more?”
    She hated how he said her name like a little stab.
    You are rich, Claire.
    You think you’re so great, Claire.
    You are nothing to me, Claire.
    Or at least that’s how it sounded to her.
    “May I have the jacket, please?” Her voice was so weak,