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I could hardly resist a snort, but somehow, I did.
“God no. I hope to be done with this entire mess in less than a month.” I folded my hands in front of me and stared across the wide expanse of land, the tall trees and mountain peaks in the distance. “Someone will find this place just to their liking, but I can promise you it’s not me.”
So far, I’d driven from the airport in my rented car to this house, and I was ready to go back home. On a short detour through downtown to find a place with coffee, I’d garnered enough stares to know that I’d be the recipient of small-town gossip whether I wanted to be or not.
Ian glanced around the land. “Oh, it’s not so bad here.”
“I’m sure everyone who lives in places like this says that,” I answered coolly.
He met my gaze unflinchingly, and now it wasn’t so polite. “Considering I’ve called London home the last eight years, I’d say I’m fairly unbiased in my opinions, but what do I know?”
I sighed, conceding that with a brief arch of my brow. London was one of my favorite places in the world, but I had a feeling he didn’t want to hear that, considering the slight edge of friendliness was completely gone from his expression.
Cameron still watched me with understandable wariness, like I was a chained up dog he wasn’t sure if he could trust not to bite his face off.
“What brought you back from jolly old England?” I asked with delicate precision.
“My dying father,” he said. There was a bold dare in that answer.
I didn’t meet his challenge, finally deciding to slide my sunglasses up into my hair. The armor didn’t feel so necessary at that moment, only made me feel like an asshole. A lump of regret lodged in my throat, but I swallowed it down.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I told him.
“Yeah, you sound like it,” he muttered.
Cameron swiped a hand over his mouth, pinning his brother with a warning glance. “Why don’t you go wait in the truck while I finish this up?”
Ian jerked his chin in a nod and walked away. I watched him with narrowed eyes. “He’s friendly.”
“Cut the shit, Ivy.”
My eyebrows arched slowly, and I managed a glacially slow pivot to face him. “Excuse me?”
Cameron took a step closer, and dammit, I had to lift my chin to meet him in the eye. Why the hell was he so tall?
“I don’t know why you’re lying, but we both know it was you. I won’t pretend otherwise.”
My stomach trembled at his nearness, and that same muzzle I used with my father—to subdue everything in me that needed subduing snapped neatly back into place.
“You don’t know me, Cameron. And I don’t know you.” I held his gaze, which was fierce and bright and focused. “I won’t be pretending otherwise because you met me during a weak moment. That girl in the elevator wasn’t me.”
He searched my face, finally nodding slowly. “So this is you. The real you,” he added.
“It is.” My cheeks felt warm, but I refused to concede this little eye-contact pissing match.
He had no clue how well-prepared I was to remain unbowed in situations like this. My whole life, I imagined someone using a giant metal hook on the edge of my chin, hoisting it sky high so I had no choice but to keep it where it belonged.
This man met someone unrecognizable. If I faced her in a mirror, she’d be a stranger.
Had to be a stranger. The alternative was impossible.
“All right then,” he said easily, crossing his arms over his chest. “Wilder Homes is happy to help you with whatever you need.”
I sniffed. The sarcasm wasn’t appreciated, even if he kept it skating just under the thin line of civility.
“Work up an estimate for a minor remodel,” I told him. “Gut what’s not working, new floors, new light fixtures and hardware if necessary. If the windows and roof are in good shape, even better.” I pulled a key from my purse and held it out. He took it carefully enough that our fingers didn’t brush.
He turned his attention to the house. “Furnished in there?”
