“Of course, silly pants,” Daisy said in midskip.
“Okay then, let’s go get married, Daisy girl.”
What an omen that was. Nothing like a monsoon inside your house on your wedding day to bring you impending doom. She should have known that the dream would be better than the reality. And it most certainly was. It turned out that she and Daisy were mere pawns in his becoming the token family man in a well-crafted plot to take over the family’s wealth management business. Once Dahlia found out he’d lied, he treated her like the help. He was indifferent, emotionless, and cold. He was the same person he’d always been. She was told she was ungrateful many times and that any woman would die to be in her position. Who would have thought she’d feel more alone being married?
The old, rusted ladder wiggled as she climbed down. Every stain on the metal marked a project that still seemed relevant.Dahlia pushed it into the hallway, hearing the plastic feet skid across the floor. Her phone vibrated in her pocket; it was a text from Kara.
Is McHandy over yet?
Dahlia rolled her eyes and typed.He’s working on the porch. Just finished the refrigerator.
When am I going to get to meet him? How about a quick FaceTime?Kara asked.
God no. Not today. Not any day.
You’re crushing my dreams.
Lol. I doubt that. FYI, we’re making good progress. And we’ll need to continue since I’m now the chief curator at the swankiest gallery in Charleston.Dahlia felt an enormous sense of relief wash over her, knowing she wouldn’t have to run any more ridiculous errands or report to her a-hole boss ever again. Now she could focus on the job ahead and find a place to live in Charleston. She wondered if the cute apartment with the great kitchen and period details in the French Quarter was still available from her search before she left.
I’ll settle for a pic.Kara’s text interrupted Dahlia’s panic.
You’re incorrigible. Not happening.
Dahlia put her phone away, feeling a rush of anxiety swell through her veins. As soon as she picked the brush back up, she was greeted by loud music outside. “What the …?” she mumbled.
With each step, the song became louder. The lyrics to “Dancing in the Dark” echoed through the window screens. She peeked out the back door. And there it was, Noah karate chopping the air. He also kicked, swayed, and twerked his fine hips to good ol’ Bruce. Wow, he really likes him. It was another affirmation of the “old soul” that lived inside him. She could feel the heaviness lift, and all she wanted to do was join the fun-loving guy bobbing around the sawdust dance floor to her dad’s favorite song. Her smile extended ear to ear until he spotted her.
“Come join me?” He playfully summoned her with his finger from the back porch.
Lordy. “I’m good,” Dahlia yelled back, watching his hips move effortlessly with the rhythm. Her mouth was moist, and her chest fluttered. She couldn’t look away.
“Dancing is good for the soul.” He continued kicking and punching the air in his dingy baseball hat and a graphic tee while singing into a hammer.
Dahlia smiled, feeling her face blush. She held up the brush covered in white paint, hoping he would stop asking. Not because she didn’t want to, but because, deep down, she did. She wanted to feel his body next to hers and dirty dance with him into the sunset. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be Baby and him, Johnny.
She filled the cup next to the sink with cold tap water and gulped it as if she had been stranded in the desert for days. The gallery job was the right decision. The only decision.
“Got some for me?” Noah asked, bopping his gorgeous, dirty body through the back door.
“Oh, sure.” Her voice pitched embarrassingly high when he grabbed her arm and twirled her. He smelled like rugged goodness, like a cowboy at the end of a long, hard-earned day. Then he pressed her body into his and swayed. She had two choices: go with it or fight it. After taking a beat, she realized he wasn’t going to take no for an answer anyway. At least she’d be able to cross something off her summer bucket list.
His eyes were mesmerizing this close, like an ocean you could get lost in. His hold was firm but soft, like in a leading man kind of way. When his stare lingered a little longer, her body began buzzing with a joy unlike she’d ever felt. Then he dipped her, and she let out a sudden squeal.
“And that’s why they pay me the big bucks.” He laughed, setting her back on her feet.
“Water, right?” She cleared her throat, still reeling from what that was, and poured him a glass.
“Thanks.” After three large swigs, it was gone. “How’s that working?” He pointed to the cream-colored refrigerator that now had a consistent low hum.
“Great. It’s nice not having to pull things from a wet and leaky cooler. And to be able to cook if I want to. Not that I need to make this house any hotter.” Did she just say that out loud? She did.
“I’m almost done with the screens. Then I can get up to check out that chimney cap.” Noah wiped his ’stache with the back of his hand.
Dahlia gulped; this time, she was sure it was audible. “Are you sure? That’s pretty high.” Nothing could happen to him. She needed him. And … perhaps she wanted him too, despite what she found online.
“Yup, we’ve got a couple of ladders that will reach the roof.” He paused, putting the glass in the sink. “I was thinking. I’ve got to return to the island tonight to drop off the banquettes. Want to join me?”
She pushed the hair off her face. “I don’t know, I have a lot to do here. That long list of mine isn’t going to take care of itself.”
