Page 32 of Someone to Have (Skylark #3)

TAYLOR

“I can’t speak for your sister, but this is right off my vision board.” I laugh even as sweat pools between my shoulder blades. “Does she like older homes?”

“I think so.” He turns off the truck and massages the back of his neck. “She liked shopping at thrift stores when we were younger. And not just because we couldn’t afford the mall. She was into the whole vibe of it, you know.”

“I know.”

We both stare through the front windshield at the house. Snow dusts the roofline and clings to the bare branches of the oak trees in the front yard, making the property look cute and cozy despite the home’s obvious need for repairs.

“Is it for sale?” I ask, my voice rough with emotion I can’t quite disguise.

“Not officially, but the owner recently moved to assisted living, so her son is planning to put it on the market.” He pulls a key out of his jacket pocket.

“I found out about it from your brother. He was considering buying the house as an investment property or flipping it. When I mentioned that Rhett wants to stay in Skylark, and if that’s going to happen, I need to find a place for them to live, he offered it to me. ”

“Do we get to go in?” I rub my hands together. “I’ve always had a thing for old houses. You can’t build character from scratch these days. Even the quirks that drive my dad crazy during a renovation.”

“Your brother says it needs some TLC.”

I think about asking whether he would stay to fix up the house for her, but I don’t—because it shouldn’t matter to me. I shouldn’t care.

We walk up the porch steps, and he unlocks the front door.

“Damn, she must have been a smoker,” he says as the scent of stale cigarettes hits us.

“And a fan of wood paneling,” I add with a laugh. The entire front living room and entryway is covered with dark planks.

Eric shakes his head. “It’s too much work, right?”

His uncertainty is abnormal, and oddly appealing. It makes him seem less confident hockey stud and more regular human. More at my level, which I like a lot.

“So far it’s just cosmetic. We need to see the kitchen.” I take his hand without thinking about it, but don’t let go, even when I realize I probably should.

“Wow.” I smile as we come around the corner. The kitchen isn’t big, but it’s been remodeled recently in the ubiquitous farmhouse style. The cabinets are white with dark metal pulls, and the counters are marbled gray granite.

“So she likes wood paneling but also HGTV. This update is right out of a home improvement show.”

He runs a hand over the smooth surface. “Jen doesn’t cook.”

“I don’t cook,” I say, walking forward. “This is still my dream kitchen. Stainless steel appliances. A gas range. I’m kind of in love.”

He flashes a self-satisfied smile as if my approval means something to him. “What would you use a gas range for? ”

“Boiling water,” I answer without a shred of embarrassment. That’s the nice thing about how Eric and I started. I don’t feel the need to impress him.

Or maybe he’s just made it clear that he likes me for who I am.

I’m sure it will be the same with Bryan once I get to know him.

Once I’m comfortable enough to let him know me.

Which is the whole point of me and Eric being together, although sometimes I have to mentally smack myself as a reminder that this isn’t real and I’m interested in somebody else. Why do I need to remind myself of this?

“How many bedrooms?” I ask.

“Three. Two upstairs and one in the basement,” he says.

“Perfect for a teenage boy. Let’s look around the rest of it,” I suggest.

We do, and while both bathrooms need updating, they aren’t horrible.

“There’s the backyard,” he says, pointing out a bedroom window. “It’s fenced. Jen always liked animals, so maybe...I don’t know, she could get a dog or something.”

“My friend Sadie is a dog trainer in town, so she could help.”

He turns and looks at me for a long moment. “We probably shouldn’t be planning my sister’s post-rehab life. I’m not exactly an expert on setting down roots.”

I tilt my head. “You came when she needed you most. You bought a truck, clearly overcompensating by buying the biggest one on the lot. You’re helping Rhett feel settled and secure. All of that speaks to?—”

“Hold up there.” He lifts a hand. “As you are well aware, I’m not compensating for anything. I have a great tool belt.”

“Larger than average,” I agree, stifling a giggle.

One minute he’s standing in front of the window, and the next he’s across the room and hauling me against his body so I can very much feel the weight and size of his “tool belt” pressing against my belly .

“How long do you get for lunch, Tink?” he asks, already nibbling along the underside of my jaw.

“We are not christening your sister’s potential new home on my lunch break.”

I hear—or rather feel—the rumble of his laugh against my skin. Desire skitters up my spine.

“Do we have time to stop at your apartment?”

“No,” I tell him even as I nuzzle the underside of his jaw. “Not even five minutes.”

He lifts his head and stares at me. “What if I only need one?”

“Like this is all about you? Maybe I need more than one.”

“I can get you there in less,” he promises. It’s true, but I’m not going to admit that out loud.

“Think of it as an extra coaching session. Your first rehearsal of the week is tonight, so you should be extra relaxed for it.”

It’s a fair point, but that’s not why I want to make this lunch into an afternoon delight. I simply want to be with Eric. Any time. All the time.

“I guess I can extend my lunch hour for the cause. That’s what this is all about, after all.” I feel the need to remind both of us.

His eyes narrow slightly, and I wonder if he’s going to call me out on the lie. But he only takes my hand, linking our fingers together.

“If I put the pedal to the metal, we might have two minutes,” he says and drags me through the house.

Laughter bubbles up in my throat, then dies when we enter the family room.

My brother’s big body fills the doorway, hands on his hips, glaring at us.

“What the fuck is happening here?” he demands, his voice a low growl. Toby stands stock-still in paint-splattered jeans, his thermal henley rolled up to his elbows, and narrows his eyes as he looks between us.

Eric immediately releases his hold on my hand, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more alone than I do in this moment. What did Toby see? How much of our conversation from the bedroom did he overhear?

“I’m getting your sister’s opinion on the house,” Eric says like it’s no big deal.

“That’s why I’m here—to give you my opinion.” Toby scoffs. “Why would you want hers?”

Oh, right. I should be less worried about him thinking something’s going on between Eric and me and more broadly offended at my older brother once again dismissing me.

“Because I have great taste in houses,” I say, stalking forward and poking Toby in the chest. “And believe it or not, I have opinions and viewpoints—good ones, ones that people want to hear. Not anyone in my family, of course.”

“You’re not a contractor, Tink,” he says. “Don’t get all butt-hurt.”

“I’ll get butt-hurt if I want to,” I snap back. “My closet might not be full of Carhartts and work boots, but Marty Maxwell is my dad, too, Toby. I spent plenty of time during my childhood trailing him around job sites. I’m not a complete moron when it comes to evaluating a property.”

“I never said you were a moron.”

“No, just somebody whose thoughts, opinions, and life don’t matter compared to you and Elise.”

“I never said that, either.” He looks legitimately shocked that I’d suggest it.

“Actions speak louder than words,” I tell him.

He glances over my shoulder toward Eric.

“Hell, no.” Eric holds up his hands. “Don’t look at me for rescue. I fucked up with my sister way worse than you. But listen to what she’s saying, okay?”

“What do you think of the house, Taylor?” Toby grumbles.

“I think there’s a lot of updating to be done, but it’s got good bones.

The kitchen is perfect just the way it is, which will save money.

The tile in both bathrooms is neutral and in decent shape, so most of the work there is cosmetic.

You’ll need an oil-based primer for this paneling, both because it’s dark and smells like a decade’s worth of Marlboro Light cartons died in the walls. ”

I take a breath but continue before Toby can stop me. “Nothing on the inside gives me any pause. I haven’t looked at the plumbing or electrical, but?—”

“They’re in good shape,” he says, sounding slightly gob-smacked.

“What about the foundation and roof?”

“Both solid.” He reaches out and grabs me around the neck, pulling me forward and rubbing the knuckles of his free hand against the top of my head. “Just like my baby sister. You nailed it, Tink.”

“Stop, Toby,” I squirm against his grip, my dignity dissolving with every passing second, but he holds tight. “I hate noogies.”

“You love mine. Don’t lie. I’m legit impressed, lil sis. We should have put you on the payroll years ago.”

“I have zero desire to work for the business.” I reach around to pinch the skin under his armpit.

He lets out a yelp of pain and releases me.

“But it would be nice for you all to admit on occasion that I might have something to contribute above and beyond being the punchline of most of the family jokes.”

“We tease you,” he says as I straighten my hair and pretend my fingers aren’t shaking.

I’ve never called either of my siblings out on how they treat me like I don’t matter, or how much it bothers me.

To be honest, I’ve always worried that if I didn’t take the ribbing from them, I wouldn’t have any place in my family.

“It’s all in good fun. You know that, right? ”

I don’t answer. I can’t because I’m trying hard not to cry.

“Jesus, Tink, you’re the best part of this family. You’re smarter than any of us, and...well, we love you. Duh.”

“Duh,” I whisper. “I love you, too. ”

“You seriously nailed all the things.” He glances at Eric again then back at me. “Which is the only thing getting nailed, right?”

My cheeks bloom with color, which I hope he attributes to him making a public spectacle of me again and not the secret I’m keeping. I swat his arm. “Don’t be a jackass, Toby. You know fuckboy athletes aren’t my type.”

The awful words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. It’s nerves and fear about my brother’s reaction that cause them, but as I meet Eric’s steady gaze, I hate myself for going so far. “No offense,” I mutter, like that should make a difference.

His smile holds no humor. “None taken.” The response is casual, but I don’t miss the muscle ticking in his jaw.

“A fuckboy.” Toby laughs and shakes his head. “Our girl Tink has teeth. Who knew?” He chucks me on the shoulder. “Nice burn,” he says, then turns to Eric. “She started it, so feel free to let loose on how granny-panty-wearing bookworms aren’t your type either.”

Here it comes. I steel myself for the retaliatory burn. One that I deserve.

He stares at me for a long beat then shrugs. “I need to drop a form off at the high school on my way back to the job site. Can you drop your sister at the library?” He makes a show of checking his watch. “I think her lunch hour is over.”

My stomach twists with guilt as Eric walks away. The distance in his eyes feels like a wall I’ve built with my own stupid words. He has to know I didn’t mean it, but I can’t help but think I’ve ruined something special before it really had a chance to begin.