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Cameron: Anything you need, boss.
Two very different reactions warred in my head. First, the obvious eye roll because his sarcasm was loud and clear. And maybe there were still roots of that weed left behind because it curled up, winding around the bottom of my ribs.
My lips tugged up in a smile.
Then I blew out a harsh breath, wiping it away with the exhale. The drive back to the house was quick, but I slowed as I drove through downtown this time, studying the businesses stacked neatly along Main Street.
Everything was clean and well-kept, the people all smiling and friendly and waving.
At me.
People waved at me.
“What the hell,” I whispered under my breath, lifting my hand off the steering wheel because it felt like a total asshole thing not to wave back. “Who are these people?”
My conversation with Amanda set me back a few minutes, and when I pulled back into the driveway a few hours after I’d last left it, a dirt-coated Jeep was parked in front of the garage, and a short, curvy woman with shockingly red hair snapped pictures of the house.
There was no helping the slight furrow to my brow when I noticed she wore jeans and hiking boots and a T-shirt tucked into the front of the jeans. At the sound of my car, she turned, settling her camera around her neck. Her red hair was barely contained in a thick braid falling down her back, and her smile was so sunny and bright, I almost locked my car door and slid down in my seat.
Why was she so damn happy to see me?
She didn’t know me.
I could be a serial killer for all she knew.
Stowing the cynicism for a moment, I blew out a slow breath and fixed my lips in a polite, close-mouthed smile. Showing teeth in a smile was reserved for very specific situations, and this did not qualify.
I could hear my etiquette teacher’s nasally voice in my head. Unless you’re in a dentist chair, no stranger needs a front-row seat to your oral hygiene, Ivy.
When I exited the car, she approached with quick, energetic strides.
“You must be Ivy. It is so nice to meet you,” she gushed.
Then she opened her arms. Like she was going to hug me.
I reared back with a quick clearing of my throat, and she paused.
Then I stuck my hand out. “Pleasure to meet you,” I said.
She exhaled a laugh, eyes assessing me from head to toe.
Felt a bit different from when Cameron did it, I can tell you that much.
“Marcy Jenkins,” she said with a grin and a pleasantly firm handshake. “This house is fantastic. I was thrilled to get your message. I’ve always been curious about how it held up all these years.”
I hummed, giving the house in question another look. “My builder looked at it today and said it’s in surprisingly great shape.”
“Who are you working with?” she asked.
“Wilder Homes.”
Her cheeks flushed red, and that smile came back. So big. So many teeth.
“Cameron?” she asked. Marcy swallowed, her eyelashes fluttering. “He’s great.”
For fuck’s sake.
I gave her a long look. “Friend of yours?”
