“So. You sure you want that house?” he asks. “It doesn’t seem that nice. I mean, not worth marrying a stranger for.”
“You haven’t seen the house I want.”
“Your grandmother’s house isn’t the one? Where we had dinner?”
I shake my head. “My parents’ home is sitting empty. Max and I hired a cleaning crew to go every month, since Grandma won’t do anything with it.”
He frowns a little. “Shouldn’t she pay for that? It’s her house.”
“She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to pay for any utilities, either. She actually tried to cut power and water.”
“No power? Around here? The humidity would rot the place out in a month.”
“Exactly.” That’s another reason I resent that Grandma wouldn’t even consider selling the house to me or Max. It’s obvious she doesn’t really want it. She just doesn’t want us to have it, probably because Max and I don’t suck up to her the way she expects to be sucked up to.
“Well, we’ll figure something out.” He leans closer and lowers his voice. “Hey, why don’t we go back upstairs? You don’t have anything to do, do you?”
That sexy, hot scent is hitting me again. My mouth dries, and I quickly
take a sip of coffee. The smell of fresh java calms my raging hormones somewhat. What kind of black magic is Devlin doing that I need caffeine to settle my libido? “I have a lot to do. I need to work on some commissioned pieces. Contrary to what people think about artists, I am actually a busy person.”
He makes a neutral noise deep in his chest.
I inhale, straighten my shoulders and brace myself for an argument.
Oh, come on. It can wait.
It’s just some doodling.
It’s not like anybody’s checking up on you. You can cram it in later.
All the things my ex-boyfriends said. I’ve heard them so many times that I have perfect responses ready.
“Okay,” Devlin says. “I’ll entertain myself, then.”
His easy acquiescence makes my shoulders sag a little. I force myself to keep my spine straight. There could be a gotcha.
You know you’ve had some shit-tastic boyfriends if this man being agreeable is making you nervous, a small voice in my head says.
And I’m not going to act weird around Devlin for the entire year we’re together, just because of my crappy past experiences. It wouldn’t be fair to him or me.
I put my plate and mug in the dishwasher. “Okay, then. I’ll see you later.” Then I walk toward the studio in the back, leaving Devlin behind.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Devlin
It’s disappointing that Becca has to work, but of course she has a life and commitments. It isn’t like she’s just coming off a world tour. If she and I had gotten married in the middle of Axelrod’s latest one, I wouldn’t be around much either.
Still, she can’t paint twenty-four seven. Everyone needs a break. So I can look forward to that.
With Becca gone, the house feels creepily silent and empty. I look around for a TV, but…there isn’t one. And there weren’t any in the bedrooms upstairs…
Oh… Shit.
Becca doesn’t watch TV at all? How is that even possible? What am I supposed to do? My gaze lands on the bookshelves lining the walls, but I’m not reading. It isn’t like I have a writer to suck up to like Killian, which is why he reads books with titles like Christmas with the Extra Large Bratwurst.
I go to Amazon. I’m going to Prime-deliver a new TV, whichever one has the biggest screen.