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Authors: Denise Hunter
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understood.
“She also heard you’re going to be open for brunch on Sundays, once the restaurant opens. She’s worried about you.”
“It’s true I’ll be working Sundays for a while, but once my staff settles in, they’ll be able to handle it without me.” She’d get back to church once all the craziness passed.
Madison wandered into the dining room, and PJ followed, wanting to check the touch-up she’d done late last night.
“Hey, this is looking great. It’ll be romantic with some soft candlelight.”
“I think so too.”
Madison stopped abruptly. “Uh-oh.”
PJ looked over her shoulder, noticing the water that covered an entire corner of the room. She followed the source to the window. The curtains she’d rehung the day before slapped against the wall. Rain still pelted in.
“What in the world?” PJ hustled to the window and put the sash down. Water, an inch deep, seeped into her tennis shoes. She splashed back to the center of the room where it was dry. She’d closed that window last night. She knew she had. She’d been a little paranoid about having them open since Cole had complained about the air conditioning.
“You have any towels?”
“In the kitchen.”
“You should go downstairs and see if it’s leaking through.”
Madison soaked up the water while PJ checked the basement.
“Any leaks?” Madison asked when she returned.
“No, thank goodness.”
PJ grabbed a dry towel and helped with the last of the mess,water soaking through her jeans. “I thought for sure I shut this window last night.” She’d done it after putting the lid on the paint can and wrapping the wet brush with Saran Wrap. Hadn’t she? Yes, she was practically positive.
“At least there’s no permanent damage.”
That still didn’t explain the window. Had Cole opened it? But she couldn’t imagine why he’d need to. It had been hot and muggy, and she already knew he wasn’t a fan of open windows.
Unless . . . No, he wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t purposely flood her dining room.
Would he?
The suspicions she’d stuffed down over the past week rose to the surface again. Anyone could’ve taken the cookware. It was worth a lot. But who else would want to flood her dining room?
It had started raining right after she’d left last night. Could Cole have come down and opened the window? He wanted the house badly. As badly as PJ. But would he stoop to sabotage?
As a foster kid he’d probably scrapped for everything he had. Was he scrapping for the house too? At her expense?
She sat back on her haunches and opened her mouth to let Madison in on her suspicions.
“Unless you have a ghost, you need to be more careful, PJ. This could’ve been a lot worse, and you really don’t have the money to waste—or the time.”
She wanted to defend herself. Tell Madison it hadn’t been her fault, that she suspected it was Cole’s. But she’d been defending him since day one. Her family already thought she lacked good judgment—she’d been chided about the expensive cookware. She wasn’t setting herself up for a round of I-told-you-so’s.
Besides, it was possible it wasn’t Cole, right? He’d been distantsince she’d asked him to keep the house locked up. An image of him under the bathroom sink formed, his long legs extending out into the hall, his T-shirt riding up, exposing a couple inches of his muscled stomach. She’d almost forgotten what she’d come for until he’d snapped at her.
Stop that, PJ.
If she thought about it, he’d actually been distant since the tripping incident. Since he’d caught her against him. She’d found herself reliving those long seconds too often. The way he’d felt against her. The way his breath had stirred her hair.
The man is likely sabotaging you, and you’re getting swoony over him?
What was wrong with her? Was she just missing Keaton?
After piling the wet towels by the front door, the sisters started painting in the kitchen. Madison caught PJ up on her
“She also heard you’re going to be open for brunch on Sundays, once the restaurant opens. She’s worried about you.”
“It’s true I’ll be working Sundays for a while, but once my staff settles in, they’ll be able to handle it without me.” She’d get back to church once all the craziness passed.
Madison wandered into the dining room, and PJ followed, wanting to check the touch-up she’d done late last night.
“Hey, this is looking great. It’ll be romantic with some soft candlelight.”
“I think so too.”
Madison stopped abruptly. “Uh-oh.”
PJ looked over her shoulder, noticing the water that covered an entire corner of the room. She followed the source to the window. The curtains she’d rehung the day before slapped against the wall. Rain still pelted in.
“What in the world?” PJ hustled to the window and put the sash down. Water, an inch deep, seeped into her tennis shoes. She splashed back to the center of the room where it was dry. She’d closed that window last night. She knew she had. She’d been a little paranoid about having them open since Cole had complained about the air conditioning.
“You have any towels?”
“In the kitchen.”
“You should go downstairs and see if it’s leaking through.”
Madison soaked up the water while PJ checked the basement.
“Any leaks?” Madison asked when she returned.
“No, thank goodness.”
PJ grabbed a dry towel and helped with the last of the mess,water soaking through her jeans. “I thought for sure I shut this window last night.” She’d done it after putting the lid on the paint can and wrapping the wet brush with Saran Wrap. Hadn’t she? Yes, she was practically positive.
“At least there’s no permanent damage.”
That still didn’t explain the window. Had Cole opened it? But she couldn’t imagine why he’d need to. It had been hot and muggy, and she already knew he wasn’t a fan of open windows.
Unless . . . No, he wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t purposely flood her dining room.
Would he?
The suspicions she’d stuffed down over the past week rose to the surface again. Anyone could’ve taken the cookware. It was worth a lot. But who else would want to flood her dining room?
It had started raining right after she’d left last night. Could Cole have come down and opened the window? He wanted the house badly. As badly as PJ. But would he stoop to sabotage?
As a foster kid he’d probably scrapped for everything he had. Was he scrapping for the house too? At her expense?
She sat back on her haunches and opened her mouth to let Madison in on her suspicions.
“Unless you have a ghost, you need to be more careful, PJ. This could’ve been a lot worse, and you really don’t have the money to waste—or the time.”
She wanted to defend herself. Tell Madison it hadn’t been her fault, that she suspected it was Cole’s. But she’d been defending him since day one. Her family already thought she lacked good judgment—she’d been chided about the expensive cookware. She wasn’t setting herself up for a round of I-told-you-so’s.
Besides, it was possible it wasn’t Cole, right? He’d been distantsince she’d asked him to keep the house locked up. An image of him under the bathroom sink formed, his long legs extending out into the hall, his T-shirt riding up, exposing a couple inches of his muscled stomach. She’d almost forgotten what she’d come for until he’d snapped at her.
Stop that, PJ.
If she thought about it, he’d actually been distant since the tripping incident. Since he’d caught her against him. She’d found herself reliving those long seconds too often. The way he’d felt against her. The way his breath had stirred her hair.
The man is likely sabotaging you, and you’re getting swoony over him?
What was wrong with her? Was she just missing Keaton?
After piling the wet towels by the front door, the sisters started painting in the kitchen. Madison caught PJ up on her
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