His little squatter had been drinking. And by the empty martini glass in her hand and the slight tilt to her posture, she’d been having her fair share of divorce party festivities.
Never one to show up to a shindig empty-handed, Rhett stopped by the store on the way home to pick up a present. But seeing the exhaustion in her eyes and the forced way she was talking, he decided he’d save it for tomorrow. He also decided that, instead of crashing her party, he’d quietly go to bed. Getting upstairs to the master was out, since it would bring him straight through the crowd and straight into a night of selfies and autographs. More importantly it would insert him right into the middle of Elsie’s fun. And irritated or not, tonight he wanted her to have her fun. Because come tomorrow they’d discuss her new accommodations—across town.
Knowing he’d need his noise-canceling earphones to get even a wink of sleep, he snuck around the side hallway leading to the guest bedroom off the den. He was nearly out of sight when he spotted Elsie talking to some dude.
The bartender, who was putting another drink in Elsie’s hand while putting his hand on her hip. Then there was the prick’s expression, confident and zoned in on his target.
Rhett knew the look, wore it whenever he planned to hook up. And while Elsie was a grown woman who could handle herself, his brothers’ words kept playing in his head.
“Walk away,” he told himself. What happened was none of his damn business. Yet instead of walking into the den, he found his feet going in reverse until he was in direct line of sight with the guy. He stood there, waiting for the prick to look up, and when he did Rhett leveled him with a look and shook his head.
The bartender’s hand jerked back, and he wisely focused his attention on doing his job. Mission accomplished, Rhett made his way to the back bedroom. He left his shoes at the door and threw his jacket over the arm of an office chair.
From what he could tell, the room was part guest room and part studio. Based on the sketches hanging from the wall and the blueprints on the desktop, this was where Elsie worked—and she’d been working hard. The desk was covered in loose textiles, paint swatches, and hand-drawn floorplans, complete with dimensions and layout.
In the middle of the table was a large pad of art paper. It was her current project, he could tell. The sketches were rougher and there was no furniture included, simply the structural design with textures and architectural details. Even in their earlier form, the concept was eye-catching.
It was a music room and not any music room, but the one here on the main level, with a piano placed in the middle. She’d rounded the edges, the acoustic paneling looked like a piece of art, and the two-by-two decorative ceiling tiles were reminiscent of Carnegie Hall. It was modern and unique and stunning.
Wanting to see the rest of her plans for the house, he flipped the page to the outline of a two-bedroom bungalow. The address put it down the street.
“What are you doing?”
Rhett looked over his shoulder to find a very pissed off roommate with her lips pursed and her hands on her hips.
“Getting ready for bed,” he said casually. “Would you like to watch again or am I flying solo?”
She ignored this. “You’re on my side of the house.”
“I didn’t know we’d established lines yet,” he teased, but she was serious as hell.
“There was a hearing earlier. You missed it. It was thorough and detailed and, don’t worry, I presented your case.”
He rested a hip against the desk. “And what was the outcome?”
“I get the east side of the house, including the kitchen, guest rooms, family room, living room, garage, stairs, and,” she waved a hand to include the entire room, “the study.”
“Besides the master, what’s left?”
She looked up at the ceiling as if counting all the other rooms in the house. She finally held up a single finger—the middle one. “The master en suite.”
“And the music room?”
“That’s mine too.”
“Didn’t know you played piano.”
“I’m going to start taking lessons.”
“So the master and adjoining bath.” His lips quirked. “How will I get there if you possess the stairs?”
“There is a two-foot easement that allows you to walk through my property to get to yours,” she said as though she’d put great thought into it.
“And if I get hungry?”
She shrugged. “I hear Uber Eats is good or you can try, I don’t know, finding somewhere else to live.”
“Not happening.”
