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His red-and-black eyes narrow. I smile.

“I’m Belinda.”

Something flickers across his face.

“Belinda?”

The way he says my name does something strange to my insides.

Low.

Rough.

Almost like he’s tasting it.

I clear my throat.

“Belinda Ramos.”

His nostrils flare again.

Is he sniffing me?

“I live here now.” I point at the Victorian. “This was my aunt’s place. She left it to me.”

His expression changes instantly.

“Your aunt was Margarita?”

Okay. That surprises me.

“You knew her?”

His jaw flexes.

“I did. She was my neighbor.” His voice loses some of its bite. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

A beat passes. Something almost human moves behind those strange eyes. Then he ruins it.

“Fine, I’ll buy the property.”

I blink.

“What?”

“Retail value. Cash. No financing. No inspections. You can be gone by tomorrow.”

My mouth drops open. He just keeps going.

“I’ll cover your moving expenses too. Whatever you've already spent getting here⁠—”

I lose the rest. Because he shifts the bucket from one hand to the other and his abdominal muscles flex.

Good Goddess.

Those should be illegal.