by T. K. Leigh
After touring the bedrooms on the upper level and the enormous covered rear porch just off the kitchen that I can picture as the perfect entertaining area, we head back toward the front door.
Julia turns to me. “So what do you think?”
“It may be an old house, but it has great bones. Based on what you told me about wanting to update the electrical, plumbing, and HVAC, the interior will need to be taken down to just its frame. I know some great contractors who will be able to rewire this place and not destroy its character. We’ll need to test for asbestos, but since it was built in the 1850s, I doubt we’ll find any. That wasn’t really commercially available until later in the century, and not used regularly until the 1900s, so that definitely works to our advantage.”
“Guess it’s a good thing we bought an ancient house instead of one that’s just really old.” Julia laughs.
I smile. “Always good to look on the bright side, especially with historic renovations. You have to go in with the mindset that anything can go wrong, and probably will. With all that said, I have no desire to completely redo this house. Like I mentioned, I’m not interested in tearing down the walls. I want to keep as much of the original ceiling, flooring, and hardware as I can. And definitely the fireplaces and the stained glass throughout. Where you see walls right now, you’ll see walls when I’m finished. The kitchen will be updated and modernized, but it will still have a historic feel to it. I’ve seen state-of-the-art stoves and refrigerators that have a more antique style. I don’t enter into a historic remodel to destroy. I do it to preserve. So I’d like to save everything I can. Maybe recycle some of the broken fixtures into art pieces.”
The more I speak, the more animated my voice becomes, idea after idea popping into my head. There’s so much potential here. It’s an interior designer’s wet dream. At least it’s my wet dream.
“This is an incredible house that’s filled with history. The last thing I want to do is erase that history. In fact, I want to weave its history throughout the renovation.”
Julia exhales a long breath, almost out of relief. Then she grabs my hands in hers, squeezing them. “You’re the first designer I’ve spoken to who gets it.”
“I hope so. And if you hire me, I promise to treat your baby with the care and attention she deserves. With the care and attention necessary to preserve your memories of spending summers here with your grandparents. This is a stunning house, and I promise to make it stunning again. Will make it somewhere you can create new memories.”
“That’s it. You’re hired. When can you start?” She laughs, and I join in. Then she levels her gaze on me. “But seriously. Do you have other pressing projects, or can you get started right away?”
I furrow my brow. “You’re serious?”
“Absolutely. When you know, you know. And with you, I know.”
I blink, caught off guard. I didn’t expect to get hired on the spot, especially without drawing up any sort of budget. “I didn’t even tell you what it’s going to cost.”
She waves me off. “Doesn’t matter. You can’t put a price on history. Plus, my brother has more money than he knows what to do with, and I don’t mind spending it.”
“But I really should—”
Before I can finish my statement, the sound of barking cuts through, followed by a rambunctious dog flying through the now-broken screen door and jumping on me, panting and tail wagging.
“Oh god.” Julia’s expression turns horrified as she peels the Pointer mix off me. “No, Zeus. Down, boy.”
I inhale a sharp breath at the name. Most people wouldn’t think twice about a dog being named Zeus. It’s a common name for dogs. But most people weren’t betrayed by a man obsessed with Greek mythology. I wonder if this is a sign I shouldn’t be here.
“Your dog’s name is Zeus?” I ask in a small voice, telling myself it’s just a coincidence, that I can’t allow the memory of him to destroy one of the first good things to happen to me in years. If I avoided everyone who named their pet Zeus, or some other character from Greek mythology, I doubt I’d have many acquaintances.
She struggles to hold the dog back from jumping up on me again. “A Greek god he is not, I’m afraid.”
“Well, he seems just as promiscuous as Zeus. He couldn’t keep it in his pants, either.”
“Zeus!” a deep voice calls out, followed by heavy footsteps on the front porch. “Get back here, you obedience school dropout!”
Every muscle in my body stiffens and I whip my head up, a rush of adrenaline filling me when I see a man stride purposefully into the house, a beautiful little girl with golden curls in his arms. I blink, convinced I must be imagining this. But there’s no mistaking the buzz of electricity filling me.
The same buzz that coursed through me a week ago.
The same buzz that grows even more intense when I peer into Weston’s blue eyes once more.
Chapter Five
Weston
Mouth agape, eyes wide, I stare at Londyn, dumbfounded. How did this happen?
When Julia told me she thought she found a good fit for a designer, never once did I expect it would be Londyn. I want to pinch myself, make sure this is actually happening and not the result of my subconscious playing a trick on me.
“Glad you made it back,” Julia says, yanking me back to the present. “Wes, this is—”
“Londyn…” I lower Imogene to her feet and extend my hand toward her.
With slow motions, she allows me to take her hand in mine, inhaling a barely noticeable breath when our skin touches. My pulse steadily increases, a pulling sensation settling low in my stomach.
Over the past week, I’d convinced myself I imagined the magnetism I experienced when we met. Convinced myself it was simply from the adrenaline rush of putting my own life at risk to save hers.
But now that I’m here, that she’s here, I realize that’s not the case. This pull toward her is real, palpable…powerful.
“Yes…” Julia’s analytical gaze ping-pongs between us. “Londyn, this is my brother, Wes.”
Londyn briefly closes her eyes, her shoulders seeming to relax. “He’s your brother,” she states more for herself than anyone else.
“Yes. My brother.” Julia scrunches her brow. “Why?”
“No reason.” Londyn pulls her hand from mine. “I thought maybe he was your husband or something.”
“Definitely not.” Julia grimaces. “No offense, Wes.”
“None taken.” I chuckle, then face Londyn, gesturing to the little blonde at my side. “And this is Julia’s daughter, Imogene.”
Londyn crouches down to be eye level with my niece, a brilliant smile lighting up her face. “Hi, Imogene. That’s such a pretty name.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” she says with all the manners my sister has ingrained into her. “Mama says I’m named after Meemaw. She used to live here, but I never got to meet her. She went up to heaven before I was born.”
She offers Imogene a sincere look. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I promise to help your mama and uncle bring this house back to life so you’ll have a piece of your meemaw. Okay?”
Imogene nods. “Okay.” She cranes her head up toward Julia. “Can I go play outside with Zeus?”
“Of course, lovebug. Just be careful and stay out of the brush. There’s no telling what kind of critters are out there.”
“I will,” Imogene promises, already running down the long hallway toward the back porch, Zeus following loyally behind her, barking.
“She’s a beautiful little girl,” Londyn offers as she stands.
“She is. But she’s certainly a handful.” Julia rolls her eyes in feigned annoyance, but no one can ignore the love and absolute wonder in her gaze as she looks out the open back door at Imogene and Zeus chasing each other, her giggles making their way into the house.
I shove my hands into my pockets, feeling awkward in Londyn’s presence. I’m generally calm and confident around women. But with her, I seem to forget
how to speak, my mind only able to focus on her addictive scent and glossy, heart-shaped lips.
“So…,” Julia begins, her voice snapping me out of my trance yet again.
“Do you have any design experience?” I ask quickly, praying Julia didn’t pick up on the fact I’d just been staring at Londyn’s lips. Hoping Londyn didn’t, either. “I know you refurbish old furniture, but there’s a big difference between fixing up furniture and fixing up an entire house.”
“I have a bachelor’s in art history, where I specialized in architectural preservation, as well as a master’s in interior design from the Atlanta School of Design.”
“You didn’t know she was a designer?” Julia counters. “Why else would you leave her card for me?”
“To be honest, I didn’t. Her card was…” I scrape my fingers through my hair, chewing on my lower lip. “Well, for me.”
“Is that right?” Julia smirks, giving me a look reminiscent of one she gave me in our teenage years whenever I came home smelling of perfume.
“Yes.” I narrow my eyes, silently telling her not to press the subject.
“Well…” She plasters a bright smile on her face. “I’m glad I found her card on your desk. I checked out her webpage and Instagram, loved what I saw, and reached out. When I learned she just got fired from Margo St. James due to staff reductions, I knew I had to swipe her up before someone else did.”
I shoot my wide eyes to hers, stunned at this revelation. “You worked for Margo St. James?” I didn’t know what I expected to learn about her design background, but never did I think she’d worked for one of the top interior designers in the state, perhaps the entire country.
While I had stalked her website and Instagram, I hadn’t noticed any mention of the job she’d just gotten fired from the day we met. Probably because I was too focused on admiring her photos to look at anything else.
“You know who she is?” She arches a perfectly manicured brow.
“Our paths have crossed a time or two.”
“Wes is an architect,” Julia explains proudly.
“You are?” Londyn blinks repeatedly, just as taken aback by this revelation as I was about who she worked for.
I nod. “I am.”
“You two have quite a lot in common,” Julia encourages.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she’s trying to do. Sometimes she’s just as bad as my mother. As least I know Julia won’t try to set me up with someone who’s only interested in the size of my bank account. Still, I’m not sure I’m ready to put myself through another relationship. Not after the disaster and heartache of my last one. I have everything I need. The architecture firm. The charity work I do. And, occasionally, Julia and Imogene. They offer me love and companionship. That’s enough for me.
After several moments of uncomfortable silence, Londyn looks at Julia. “Well, I should get back to the city. I have so many ideas floating in my head. I can’t wait to get started. Like I said, I promise to honor the history and memories you have of this house.” She glances in my direction. “Both of you.”
My sister smiles appreciatively, taking her hand and squeezing. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” She holds her gaze another moment, then peers at me, an unexpected shyness about her. “It was nice to see you again, Wes.”
I smile. It doesn’t escape my notice that she’s finally dropped the formality of Weston and called me Wes.
“Wonderful to see you again, Londyn,” I say smoothly as I extend my hand toward her. She takes it, and I wrap my fingers around her, delicately brushing my thumb along her knuckles, causing a subtle shiver to roll through her. “Surprising, yet wonderful.” I maintain my hold for a protracted moment, turning a simple handshake into something more, not caring Julia’s witnessing our interaction.
“Thanks again for this opportunity.”
“No problem at all.” My sister smirks, a devilish glint in her eyes.
I reluctantly release Londyn’s hand. She steps back, flashing a smile at Julia.
“I’ll have Wes get in touch with you sometime over the next few days to talk about the next steps.” Julia waves her hand around. “While I can make some mean macarons and other pastries, Wes is the expert when it comes to building stuff.”
Londyn tilts her head, squinting at Julia. “That’s why you look so familiar,” she exclaims after a moment. “Do you work at The Mad Batter in Buckhead?”
Julia laughs, nodding. “I’ll do you one better. I own it.”
“I love your peanut butter and jelly cookies,” Londyn says excitedly.
She snorts. “You can thank Imogene for that creation. One day, she asked what good a peanut butter cookie is without jelly.”
“Next time I see her, I’ll be sure to do that. Until then…” She nods at Julia before lifting her gaze to meet mine once more.
Then she turns, making her way out of the house and into her SUV, leaving me reeling at the prospect of seeing her again.
Chapter Six
Weston
“Okay. Spill,” Julia orders the second Londyn’s car disappears from view.
“Spill what?” I turn from her, retreating down the hallway and into the kitchen. Opening the cooler, I grab a couple of beers, pop the top off each, then hand one to Julia.
“You know what.” She follows me onto the covered back porch, sitting beside me on the top step. “Londyn. There’s obviously some sort of attraction between you.”
“Nah.” I brush her off, peering out over the expansive property, almost able to see the ghosts of my childhood dancing before my eyes. Except now it’s just Imogene playing with Zeus.
Buying back this house was a rash move, especially once I saw all the work that needed to be done. But now I look forward to spending time here again, doing this exact thing with my sister as we watch Imogene run through the fields and jump into the lake, like we did years ago.
“Don’t even try to dismiss it. I saw that shit with my own eyes. Hell, I felt it. The electricity…” She shivers dramatically. “It was strong enough to power all of Atlanta for the next century, Wes.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Why?”
“It’s just not.”
“How did you meet?”
“She fell in a crosswalk during a torrential downpour and was about to get hit by some asshole in a pickup truck. I was in the coffee shop around the corner from the office getting Omar his coffee and saw it all happen. It was stupid, considering I could have been killed, but no one else seemed to care. Hell, some people were even recording it.”
“What the hell is wrong with people?”
“I ask myself that on a daily basis,” I sigh as I bring the bottle to my lips and take a swig, the drink refreshing in the muggy air. “So I ran out, pulled her out of the way, and carried her into the coffee shop. We talked for a few minutes. Then she left.”
“But she gave you her business card. Obviously, there’s more to the story if she did that.”
“I asked for her number.” I chuckle, smiling at the memory. “Shouted it so everyone could hear.”
“Really?” She tilts her head, lips pinched together. “That doesn’t sound like the Wes I know. The Wes who is the antithesis of spontaneous. The Wes who certainly wouldn’t draw attention to himself like that.”
“I don’t understand it, either, Jules. It’s like some other power took control and forced me to blurt out those words. So she gave me her business card.”
“And?” Her eyes light up in anticipation of the story I’ve kept from her this past week. A story I thought I’d keep to myself the rest of my life. I assumed Londyn would eventually fade into the recesses of my brain, apart from a memory I’d smile at every time I passed that crosswalk and remembered the day I pulled a woman to safety. But now our paths have more than just crossed. They’ve collided.
“I texted her to make sure she got home safely.”
“That’s it?”
“Afraid
so. End of story. Until today.” Avoiding her curious stare, I peer ahead, unusually preoccupied with Zeus as he marks his territory on a nearby tree.
“You’ve got a thing for her,” Julia states after a pause.
I roll my eyes, but don’t look directly at her. She knows me better than anyone. She’d be able to tell in a heartbeat I’m not being completely forthcoming. Hell, she probably already knows that.
“I’ve told you repeatedly. I don’t have time for a relationship. Not with taking over the firm.”
“You have time to oversee this.” She waves her hand around the massive property I now hold the deed to.
“Oversee,” I emphasize. “Nash and Londyn will be doing most of the work.” I take another long pull from my beer, exhaling on the finish.
“But you’ll be checking in. Occasionally helping out. Working closely with Londyn.”
I shake my head, knowing all too well what she’s getting at. “All the more reason why I shouldn’t get involved with her. If it doesn’t work out, and I guarantee it won’t, it would be awkward.”
“Ah-ha!” Julia slams her beer onto the step. The liquid fizzes over the bottle neck, but it doesn’t faze her. “I knew it!”
“Knew what?”
“You just admitted it!” She nudges me, her laughter filling the air.
“I didn’t admit anything.”
“You said it yourself. You don’t want to get involved with her because I hired her for the design job here.”
“I was speaking hypothetically, Jules. You’re only hearing what you want to. But for argument’s sake, let’s say you’re right. You’re not, but let’s say you are. It would still never work out.”
“Why do you say that?”
I narrow my gaze on her. “You know why.”
Julia edges toward me. “Because she’s black?” she asks quietly.
I pinch my lips together, shrugging.
