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He chuckles, “Hardly, I’m a cop, not a doctor. And you?”
“Oh, no. Way out of my range.”
Kat pops back into the room. “So, you two—I have a crazy idea. I know this is very unorthodox, but, Rachel, since we’re friends, and you two are friends, we could look at houses together. I think you’re looking at similar properties. But only if you’re interested.”
I can’t believe it. “Um. I…”
Hunter advances on me, his eyes dangerously locked on my lips. “Come on, Rachel. It will be fun.”
I’m glad he thinks it’s fun when I’m pretty sure this is going to be torture.
I stomp out of the house. I’m tapping my foot on the sidewalk when Hunter and Kat walk out all chitty-chatty. She’s got her eyes on him and they’re dangerously gaga. I see he’s still got his charm.
We all pile into Kat’s car. Joy-oh-joy. I take the back and fidget with my phone to avoid having to talk. Kat and Hunter talk houses.
I, on the other hand, try to figure out how to get enough air in my window to stop breathing his scent.
Thank god, the drive is short. Two minutes later, we stop in the driveway of a tan stucco cottage. A for sale sign is wedged crookedly in the front yard. There’s barely any grass on the dusty patch of earth.
I lean up between the seats. “Hey, Kat. What happens if we both want the same house?”
She shrugs. “Bidding war? Arm wrestling? Sharing it?”
I see Hunter’s muscular chest shaking in laughter. “Mud wrestling works for me.”
Gritting my teeth, I bite out, “God, can we be adults here?”
Kat pulls out two papers from a leather folio and passes them to each of us. “This one’s a fixer-upper. Be warned, it’s going to take some work. But the price is decent.”
I glance around at the dilapidated flower beds, the cracked sidewalk, and the broken garage door as Kat fiddles with the lock box. Hunter stands back and appears to be looking at the roof.
“It’s got good bones,” comments Kat as she pushes open the door. A wave of patchouli strong enough to float a boat comes flowing out the door. I grab my nose. “Ick.”
I have no clue how Kat does this job. I couldn’t take all the weird shit she sees… and smells.
Hunter follows her inside. I hear him chuckling. Oh boy.
If he finds it this amusing, I can only imagine. This must be bad. When I step inside the doorway, it’s like I’ve stepped into the bottom of a swimming pool. Everything is blue—I mean, literally everything.
Hunter is belly laughing now. “Looks like a smurf threw up.”
In my nose-pinched voice, I mutter, “Oh, my god. Is this a bad dream?”
“Some paint will do this place wonders!” Kat chirps.
I grumble, “I’m thinking more like a bulldozer.”
Hunter has wandered off. I hear him closing doors and talking to no one. I’m ready to run, but he takes more time, looking over the space. “Kitchen would be decent once you got the blueberry cabinets redone. Paint and a new backsplash would do this room wonders.”
I tilt my head and study him as he measures the room. I’m surprised at how domestic he seems now.
The four-years-younger Hunter I knew back in Pismo Beach slept on a mattress on the floor in a bachelor-pad house shared with five guys. They weren’t domestic. They were dudes.
Kat bumps my arm with her elbow. I’m still holding my nose against the offending amount of incense. “What do you think, Rach?”
“Blue tile? Blue cabinets? Blue carpet? Blue ceiling? I like fish, but I don’t think I’m ready to live in an aquarium.”
Hunter looks up at the ceiling. “Come on, try to have some vision. There are lots of famous sky-blue ceilings in Italy.”
