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Chapter Nineteen
Harper
I can smell the coffee the moment I step out of the bathroom. Forgetting all about the towel wrapped around my head, I follow my nose through the tiny apartment. Latham is leaning against the counter, his work jeans hanging dangerously low on his hips and looking totally doable in a well-worn Douglas Hardware T-shirt and work boots. Snuggles clearly thinks so too, since she’s sitting at his feet, practically panting with excitement.
“Morning,” he says, his voice deep and rich. It’s like a direct line to my panties.
“Good morning,” I reply, taking the towel off my head and meeting him at the coffeepot. He pours a cup for me and passes the milk and sugar. “Thanks,” I say before taking my first sip.
“Your phone was ringing a few minutes ago,” he says, nodding toward the counter where both of our phones are charging.
Not a lot of people call me before seven in the morning, so my heart rate kicks up a few beats per minute with worry. When I see the name on the screen, a different form of worry slides down my spine. “It was Mandy, my realtor. I wonder what she wanted so early in the morning?” I question aloud, watching to gauge his reaction.
“Not sure, but you should probably call her back,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the counter, giving nothing away.
“Hey, Mandy, it’s Harper. Sorry I missed your call.”
“It’s okay. Sorry to call so early, but I was heading to the gym and trying to get a few things crossed off my list.”
“No worries. What’s up?”
“I heard from my aunt. She’s making her final decision on the bids Monday. She promised to call me as soon as she decides which one she’s going with.”
“Really? She didn’t say which way she’s leaning or who the other is?” I glance over my shoulder to Latham, but find him crouching on the worn linoleum, giving Snuggles a little rubdown. I can tell he’s listening, though. I can practically see his ear turned my way and tuned in.
“No, sorry. I tried to get it out of her, but she refused. My uncle is coming down this weekend and is supposed to help her make the decision. So whatever you’re going to do, do it fast.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, looking out the window at Main Street below.
“Kiss up to her. She loves flowers and cheap red wine. Anything to help you get a leg up over the competition.”
“Good idea,” I reply, glancing back over my shoulder at Latham. This time, he’s looking right at me, and I swear he can hear both sides of the conversation and not just mine.
“I’ll talk to you as soon as I know more,” she says before signing off.
I hang up the phone and turn back to the kitchen. “Everything all right?” he asks, his gait still casual as he leans against the counter and sips hot coffee.
“Fine,” I reply, shoving my phone into the pocket of my capris.
He watches me for several seconds before asking, “Are you in the market for real estate? I thought you owned your home?”
This is where I have a choice. I can tell him about the building next door and call him out on being the other bidder, or I could give him an opening to come clean himself. While option one could potentially result in my twisting his balls until he cries for his mama, it’s option two that I go with. “No, no home. I do own my home, and have the monthly mortgage payment to prove it. I’ve been considering…investing.”
Latham nods. “Investing in real estate is a good idea, if you’ve got the capital. There are plenty of good homes in the area you could get for cheap, flip, and sell for profit.”
Not exactly what I was going for. Do I just come out and ask about the building next door? See if the other bidder is, in fact, Latham? Before I can ask, his phone rings. He takes the call, disappearing into the bedroom, my dog hot on his heels. I want to follow, eavesdrop by the doorway, but I don’t. As much as I really want to, I don’t snoop on his conversation.
Instead, I head into the bathroom and flip on the hair dryer. I mentally run through my day, which will end with a pizza date with Latham and my nephew. Free will be coming in this afternoon and on Saturday, so I’m hoping to slip out for a little bit and pay a quick visit to Mrs. Morton. Flowers and cheap red wine, huh? I think I can manage that. Then, I’ll have time to go home and meet my brother with Max, and wait for Latham to pick us up.
Satisfied with my afternoon plans, I flip off the dryer and set it on top of my bag. Latham steps up to the doorway, leaning against the aged, scarred wood. “That was Dad. The delivery truck we were expecting later this morning is arriving early. I’ve got to go down and get ready to unload a shipment of lumber. You’re welcome to stay until you need to open your store.”
I glance his way, abandoning my makeup bag. “I’m going to head over and get a few things done before I open.”
He nods. “Okay. I’m taking Killer down with me. She can hang with Dad while I’m on the forklift.”
My eyebrows quip upward. “Killer?”
“Way cooler than Snuggles. At least with a badass name like Killer, no one will make fun of her ugly face,” he teases, the corded muscles in his arms flexing as he pushes off the door frame.
