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The man’s face did not look welcoming at all.
Miss Charlene had failed to mention about the scars. On purpose, maybe? It wouldn’t have made any difference to her, but it might have helped if she had had some warning.
There were definitely scars. Unlike her scars, they were visible.
His lips twitched, the scars keeping them from moving naturally, and Peyton studied the angle of his chin, the nose that slashed like a blade through the center, and the full lips.
Even without the gorgeous blue eyes, the man must have been extremely handsome at one point.
That made her even more leery, because in her experience, handsome men were often snakes.
Several long moments passed while the man stared at her.
She was about to drop her gaze when his eyes dropped, and his hand came out, just as scarred as his face, gripping her hand with the three fingers he had left.
“I’m Bryce. I’m wondering how you know my name.”
His voice did not sound welcoming.
His cold manner made her hesitate, and she pulled her hand back.
Miss Charlene had made it sound like the man wanted his library cataloged. Like he was looking forward to it. After all, if he was willing to pay for it, surely that meant he would welcome her presence.
But there was nothing welcoming about him.
He must have rushed to the door, because he wore no coat and stood before her in a T-shirt and jeans, with stocking feet, short-cropped hair, and what she was pretty sure was a scowl under his scars.
She had other things to think about, but her eyes dropped again to the hand that she had just shaken. Missing the pinky and ring fingers.
She looked over at the other hand; it looked whole, although long, thick scars with jagged edges ran up his arm to where they disappeared underneath his T-shirt.
“Maybe I was given information that was not accurate,” she began, speaking carefully, because somehow his attitude rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe he had a lot of people visiting that were trespassers, wasting his time, or vandals, expecting the mansion to be unoccupied. She wasn’t sure, and she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, keeping her voice even. “But Miss Charlene from Sweet Water, a member of the Piece Makers, told me that she had spoken with you.”
The man didn’t move while she waited, looking at him, waiting for him to confirm that he had indeed spoken with Miss Charlene.
“Go on.”
He was tall, much taller than she, and she had to crane her head to look at him, but that was okay, because it helped her keep her chin up.
“She said you were willing to pay for someone to catalog your library. I had asked for contact info so I could contact you about the job, but she told me that I could just come out. I hope that was okay?”
“It’s really not. I don’t like unexpected visitors.”
He stopped speaking, and Peyton wasn’t sure what she should say in return. Because, after all, she was an unexpected visitor, and he had basically said he didn’t like her.
She didn’t want to take it personally, but how did a person respond to a comment like that and to the obvious expression that the man didn’t want her there?
“Well then, if you’re truly interested in having your library cataloged, I can take your info and contact you so we can set up a time for me to come out. If not, I’m sorry I wasted your time this morning.”
Her time had not been wasted. The sunrise had been gorgeous, and she’d watched it the entire time she’d been driving out.
If she left now, she might possibly get back before the Piece Makers had served many customers, and no one would know that she’d abandoned her store in order to come to this...this crumbling mansion with this sour man who reminded her way too much of her ex.
The man just stood there, like he didn’t want to give her any information about himself.
She had decided to go when he finally said, “Pull out your phone, and I’ll give you my number. I don’t want you to bother me before nine o’clock, and no texts or calls after six in the evening.” His eyes narrowed. “And I’m honestly not sure I want to hire you for the job. It’s a big one and needs to be handled correctly, not by some slapdash girl who thinks she somehow has some qualifications because she read a book once ten years ago.”
His words were uncalled for, and Peyton almost forgot the ten years she’d spent working on loving her mother-in-law, despite the unkind comments, verbal jabs, and the muttering under her breath.
