I stare.
He keeps going, all proud of himself. “They are saving as much of the original trim as they can. The third floor is already cleared. They’re working their way down.”
My jaw drops. “They already started?”
“Yep.”
“Without permits?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. That part is above my pay grade.”
I drag both hands down my face. “Paul, if this entire thing ends with us on an episode titled Renovation Gone Wrong, or I end up walking in and get killed from a fallen beam because some hack didn’t know what a load-bearing wall is, I will haunt you.”
He grins like he is immune to consequences. “Then I’d better make the kitchen nice. Ghost you will no doubt be sniffing around my girls and expect dinner or some shit.”
My girls. Any other man said that, his age or not, and it would have my hackles rising, but I like that he calls them that. I like it a lot.
I clear my throat, needing neutral ground before my brain runs off a cliff.
“So. How’s PT?”
“I like him. Better than the one they sicked on me after my hip replacement and knee surgery. He actually knows what he is doing, and he does not baby me. Says I am ahead of schedule. Which means by the time summer hits, I might even ditch this thing.” He holds up his cane.
“That is great.” And I mean it. “Going from walker to cane in what, a week? That is insane.”
He nods, pleased. Then he levels his gaze at me. “You better make a move on Legs before I’m back to top physical shape. Because once I’m one hundred percent again, Claudia might start looking at you like Dash Sterling does. I am not dealing with that tension in my house.”
I choke. “What?”
“You heard me.” He points the cane at me. “Make. A. Move. Before someone else does. Preferably someone with worse hair and fewer abs so I can laugh about it later.”
“She is not looking at me like that.”
He snorts. “Keep lying, champ. It’s cute. Temporary, but cute.”
I ignore him and grab the last box sitting against the wall. Time to get this stuff back to the hotel and make room for the next line to jump in.
“You sure, you don’t want the extra room at my suite? It’s empty. Quiet. Comfortable.”
He waves his hand. “I am not living in some fancy hotel like I am a washed-up Vegas magician trying to reboot my career.”
“It has a kitchenette.”
“So does a jail cell.” He counters.
“You would get maid service.”
“I have Sterling,” he deadpans.
I huff a laugh because he’s right. Dash will fawn over him. “That you do, but the offer stands.”
He taps his cane on the floor twice, smirking. “Save it. You get your head out of your ass, you might need it.”
Challenge accepted.
As soon as I get in the car, I tap out a text.
Me:
