He cackled with a condescending tone, and it hit her last nerve.
She covered her breasts tighter. “Is something funny to you?”
“No. But it’s not trespassing when you have a signed document from the owner.”
“What?” Her posture shifted. How could he possibly have a note from Lil? “Um, I don’t know what you think you have, but my aunt passed away a few months ago, and there’s no way she could have signed anything.”
He lifted his T-shirt to wipe his mouth, showing the contours of his chiseled stomach. Her breath hitched. “Well, she did.” He handed her a paper he’d tucked beside some tools on a shelf, like he knew he’d need it someday soon. He had a goofy grin on his face and sawdust in his ’stache. His hands were sweaty and dirty, yet her stomach took flight when his hand grazed hers.
Dahlia opened it and read it to herself, going right to the crux of the letter.I hereby give permission to Noah Sterling, who is residing at 8 Meadow Lane, Southold, NY, to use and share my barn with my niece, Dahlia Newberry. He may enter and use at his convenience until my house at 6 Meadow Lane is sold.Sure enough, the signature was Lil’s. At that moment, she felt betrayed. Twice in the last twenty-four hours, Dahlia was hoodwinked by a woman whom she’d thought she knew better than herself. How could she have given him permission to be here when she knew the only thing Dahlia wanted was to be alone? She leaned back onto the workbench, speechless, feeling the paper crinkle in her grip.
“Bruce is my uncle. He said I could crash here this summer while they were in Italy. During the winter, he reached out to Lil to see if it would be okay if I used the barn to build furniture. Andshe mailed him this note.” He paused, taking a sip of water. “My guess is she figured you’d give me a hard time.”
“Well, she was right.” Dahlia wanted peace and quiet, not this kind of noise all summer long outside her window. What was Lil thinking? “But it’s my house now, so my rules,” she said with a firm nod.
“What?” He set his water jug down.
“You’re going to find another barn to borrow.” Dahlia looked away.
“Another barn?” He moved closer, and she could smell his sweat. “Like it’s that easy?”
Adrenaline rushed through her body. “I don’t care what you do.” She didn’t care how hot he was, either. “But you’re not sharing my barn.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious.” And with that, she stomped her barely dressed self out of the barn.
“I know women like you,” he called after her. “You want to give a guy a hard time just for breathing.”
She marched back; she could feel her face getting hot. The audacity of him. She already couldn’t stand this man. “Listen, bucko. I know plenty of guys like you too.”
“Oh, do you now?” He folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb.
“Yes, entitled and ego-driven. You may have everyone fooled, but not me.” Dahlia waved her hand toward her dog in a come-here motion. “Harry, come!”
Harry didn’t budge, just sat there happily on the cool barn floor.
Noah smirked. “I think he wants to stay with me. Maybe until you cool down.”
“Ugh!” Dahlia tossed her long hair as if such a move came naturally to her and headed back to the house.
The man was infuriating. He had to go. Dahlia felt deceived by Lil; first the letter, and now this? Kara was going to need to be resuscitated after this little update.
After Dahlia collected herself from the morning face-off, she called Kara. She filled her in on her new neighbor and the argument that still had her frazzled. To say Kara was in shock was an understatement. She implored Dahlia to give him a chance, at least for her sake, and was suddenly all too eager to come for an impromptu visit. After ending the call where Dahlia essentially softened, ever so slightly, she went in search of the mysterious and elusive key. Like it would be that easy. The first stop on this puzzling mission was the home office. Dahlia yanked the drawers open in Lil’s library desk and riffled through her papers. Something as small as a safe-deposit box key could be anywhere, but this was the likeliest of places.
She poked around the hunter-green built-ins her pop painted back in the eighties when it paired well with mauve. She flipped through a random biography of Hollywood actor Charles Halston, calledRags to Riches, and shook a ratty paperback beside it, as if Lil were the type of person who would hide something important in a book. She sat on the floor, the scattered papers around her, and hugged her legs. All she wanted to do was cry. Maybe if she gave in to it, it wouldn’t feel so overwhelming. She tucked her head into her knees, about to succumb to her grief and frustration, when there was a knock at the front door.
Maybe it was Jean with the appliance parts. Perhaps she had good news and found someone to help. Dahlia rose from the dusty floor and wiped the dirt from her shorts.
Harry was already at the door when she opened it.
“Hello,” said a rugged voice attached to a cleaned-up version of the man from earlier.
Dahlia bravely faced him head-on despite the belly swoop that made her want to sink her teeth into her lip.
“Listen, I’m sorry about this morning,” Noah said, putting his hands in his pockets. “I shouldn’t have been causing such a commotion that early. I couldn’t sleep, and I thought, well … Anyway, it was a bad idea. I take full responsibility.”
“Okay.” She stepped into the doorway with folded arms. So, he could admit when he was wrong. She felt a slow smile building, but she couldn’t show her hand just yet. Harry parked himself right next to the man as if telling her to hear him out.
