Page 7 of Salvage Him

"It's interesting." I tried tosmile.

He kissed me on my cheek and grabbed my hand. He pulled me up three wobbly narrow steps to the porch. He dropped my hand and used his weight to open thefrontdoor.

We stepped into the foyer, and my eyes fell on the high polishedcement.

It was an open-floor plan, but the ceiling hung low and straight, nothing like the pitch suggested from the outside. The walls were painted black. The designer of the house did the exact opposite of every lesson they taught me in designschool.

"What’s really great is the place doesn't need a lot of work. Maybe a touch of paint here and there and you know, furniture." Paul gestured with hishands.

I narrowed my eyes and turned, but stopped when a screech from the second floor echoed throughout thehouse.

"What was that?" I asked as I took a tentative step toward thefrontdoor.

"Oh, you know these old houses.” Paul looked up at the ceiling. “Probably just the housesettling."

"Or the ghost of bad taste coming to say hello," Iwhispered.

Paul heard me. My snide comment was met with afrown.

"Jesus, Brooke." He held up hishands.

I cringed. I didn't mind when he called me Brooke except when hescoldedme.

"You said you wanted a house. You were tired of living in apartments. I buy you a house, and you still give me attitude." He rolledhiseyes.

Not sure why he wassurprised.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be ungrateful, but Paul . . ." I looked around and raised my hands. "This place is so darkand. . .old."

"It's a classic Highland ParkMansion."

He said it like it was supposed to mean somethingtome.

"I bet it has a great story." He walked toward a door and pushed, but it wouldn'tbudge.

"Yeah, I guess." I wrapped my arms around my torso as a draft crawled across the back ofmyneck.

I shuffled toward the back of the house, opened the back door, and my legs tensed. Out the back door across a two-foot wide deck of rotting wood, the landscaped dropped down into the Amazon jungle. The dense foliage made it hard to gauge the size of thebackyard.

A bush rustled on my left. I shut the door and ran back into thehouse.

"I can't live here," I said as I shookmyhead.

Paul had his backtome.

I placed my arms around his waist. I laid my head on hisshoulder.

They shook. His hand covered hismouth.

"What's so funny?" I stepped in frontofhim.

He couldn't hold it in any longer. He busted out with a howl andbentover.

"What's so funny?" I stomped my foot and pushed my hair off my neck. It suddenly grew hot andhumid.

"You really . . ." He couldn't continue. He coughed and held hishandup.

"Paul."