His question confused her until she realized he’d pulled into her apartment complex. “Oh, building two.”
He pulled his truck around and slid it into the available guest slot in front of the glass entrance door before notching the gear into park. “And the house?”
She looked down at her phone and bit her lip, already feeling a little silly for bringing it up. Still, how often was she sitting next to a certified expert? “Okay, I know it’s late, but can you tell me if I’m an idiot for thinking about buying this?” She handed her phone over.
After a moment, recognition spread across his face. “This is one of the houses off Prospect Point.”
She nodded. “One of the smaller ones, yeah.” She kept talking as he swiped through the listing photos. “The only reason I could come close to affording anything on that street is because it needs so much work. What I don’t know is if it maybe needs too much work for me to afford.”
His large hand dwarfed her phone as he pinched and zoomed, the glow from the screen illuminating his furrowed brow. “It’s tough to tell just from the pictures. Considering the age of the house and some of these photos, I’m guessing it’s full of lead paint and outdated heating and cooling. Oh, and the basement probably floods.”
Her heart dropped. “You’re right. It was stupid to even think about buying it.” She inhaled hard against the sharp swell of disappointment and reached for her phone.
He refused to relinquish it, instead flashing that irresistible grin. “Are you kidding me? This is one of my favorite houses on the Point. All that Tudor architecture and brickwork. And look at the ceiling in the master bedroom here. It’s just begging for a skylight, don’t you think?” He tapped the photo in question with one long finger. “You should at least get someone with some expertise to walk through it with you.”
“Good idea. Do you know anybody?” she chirped, and as she hoped, it made him laugh.
“Sixteen years of construction experience at your service.” He waved a hand down his body with a flourish.
“Are you serious?” She held her breath, expecting him to brush her off. After all, he wasAiden freaking Murdoch, every woman’s fantasy fling and one of the busiest contractors in town. Why would he take the time to help her? They were friendly, but they weren’t exactly friends.
Then he almost killed her by flashing that smile and crinkling the corners of those hazel eyes. “If I wasn’t serious, I wouldn’t have offered.”
Her heart hammered at this unexpected turn. “Okay then. Would… would you be willing to walk through it with me sometime this coming week? Because I really love this house and I’ve been waiting for it to go on the market forever, and my Realtor friend told me to keep my eye out, and the listing just popped up, and I don’t want to wait.” More word babble, but Aiden just rolled with it.
“Sure. Make an appointment and I’ll be there. Here.” He tapped in a number on her phone, and a moment later an electric ringing sounded from his pocket. He hit End on the call and held her phone out for her.
His fingers brushed against hers as she reached for it, and she barely suppressed a nervous giggle at the zing of pleasure she got from the contact. Was she really ending her shit night by collecting Aiden’s digits? Most of the single ladies in Beaucoeur would slap their grandmas to get their hands on that. Although they’d known each other for two and a half decades, they’d never had a single reason to exchange phone numbers before, and for some reason this felt more intimate than knowing she could reach him through whatever social media accounts they were connected on. Then again, this was for work purposes, and he wasn’t exactly angling to come upstairs with her tonight, was he? Not that she’d say yes if he was.
Probably.
Her eyes cut over to the strong lines of his face, and she shifted at the thought of what bringing Aiden up to her apartment would actually be like. Then something sharp jabbed her in the butt. “Ow!”
She arced off the seat and groped around until she found the culprit: an earring.
“Um. Yours?” She held it out to him, all dangle and sparkles in the watery light of the parking lot, and he had the good grace to look chagrined.
“Yeah, no.” He plucked it from her palm and dropped it into the cup holder. “Sorry about that.”
The physical reminder of Aiden’s playboy ways was what she needed to get her sorry self out of the truck. This night woulddefinitelynot end with him following her up to the fifth floor. She sighed and started to shrug out of his jacket.
“Give it back on the house tour.” He reached for his seat belt. “I’ll walk you up.”
“No!” He’d called herkidnot ten minutes ago. No need for another reminder that their night would end with nothing more heart-racing than a platonic handshake. “It’s eight feet to the entrance, and you can see the elevator from here. Thanks though.”
He shrugged and tapped the steering wheel, and she slid out of the truck, praying that she’d stick the landing.
“Okay, thanks again!”
“Night,” he said. Then, “Hey!”
She turned quickly, heart in her throat and hoping for… What? That he’d invite himself up?
“You got a tire guy?” he asked. “For your car?”
She blinked. Right. Her car. “Uh, no.”
He nodded. “I’ll text you my guy’s number. Tell him I sent you.”
