“But everyone says those are the sorts of upgrades that add value to the house.”
“That’s true, but around here, it’s the land itself that has the real value. Still, those old Craftsman houses go for a nice chunk of change, and there are always people looking for weekend places. I’m just suggesting that you don’t pour a lot of cash into upgrades.”
“There is one project I’d like to do inside that I think will make a big cosmetic difference in the living room.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to restore the fireplace to its original condition. It really was beautiful.”
“I remember it,” Mason said. “There was a lot of nice stonework around it. You don’t see good craftsmanship like that anymore.”
“Unfortunately, Aunt Sara covered the entire front of the fireplace with tile.”
“Huh. Wonder why?”
“I’m not sure. She never mentioned it, so when I walked into the house yesterday I was surprised to see what she had done. I do remember that she complained from time to time. She said the fireplace sucked up almost as much heat as it put out. But she loved to sit in front of the fire in the evenings and read.”
“She probably just got tired of hauling firewood,” Mason said. “Can’t blame her.”
“No, but I wish she hadn’t done such a poor job of putting in the tiles. The original fireplace would have been a huge selling point. Now it’s a giant negative. It’s the first thing you see when you walk into the house, and it’s ugly. She must have done the job herself.”
“Typical DIY disaster, huh?”
“Yes, and what’s more, it feels unstable. I could take it down with a hammer and chisel, but I’m afraid of damaging the original stonework behind the bricks.”
“Let’s hope she didn’t ruin the original. Tell you what, why don’t I drop by after work and take a look at it? I’ll bring some tools with me. Maybe I can take care of those tiles for you this evening and save you a few bucks.”
The offer left her openmouthed for a beat, and then, for some inexplicable reason, her pulse kicked up. It took her a few seconds to pull herself together.
“That’s very nice of you,” she said, suddenly cautious.
“No trouble. It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do this evening.”
“I see.” She gave him a chilly smile. It was always good to know where one fit into a man’s list of priorities.
Mason did not notice the ice in her smile. “Why don’t I drop by around five-thirty? Does that work for you?”
Cocktail hour. Interesting. She tried and failed to suppress the whisper of anticipation that sparkled through her.
“That will be fine,” she said smoothly. “It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do tonight, either.”
“Ouch. Guess I didn’t phrase my offer in the most diplomatic way.”
“As I recall, you always had a very direct style when it came to communicating,” she said.
“Yeah, my ex-wife used to complain about that a lot.”
Lucy felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Sara mentioned that your marriage did not work out.”
“No.”
Another wound, she decided. Not a giant blow, but he had definitely taken a hit. He probably blamed himself for the failure of his marriage. Typical Mason. At least he had been brave enough to give it a whirl. She was still hanging back, afraid to make the leap.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Heard you called off your engagement a while back.”
“Yes.”
“Sorry about that.”
She smiled. “We seem to be saying sorry a lot to each other.”
“Look on the positive side—my screwed-up marriage and your screwed-up engagement give us something in common.”
“Two screwed-up relationships is supposed to be a positive?”
“You know me, I was always a glass-half-full kind of guy.”
“Gee. That’s not how I remember you at all. I always saw you as a worst-case-scenario kind of guy.”
An unreadable expression lit his eyes. “And I always thought of you as a dreamer.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t remind me. You were convinced that I needed someone to look after me and make sure I didn’t get into trouble.”
He hesitated, evidently sensing a trap. “Not exactly.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Well, damn, I knew we would get back to the night that I pulled you out of the party at the ranch. You really know how to hang on to a grudge, lady.”
“Nonsense.” She sniffed. “I don’t hold grudges.”
“Yeah, right. You’re never going to thank me for what I did that night, are you?”
“Probably not.” She turned on her heel and started toward the door. “I’ll be going now. I’m staying at the house, so I’ve got some grocery shopping to do.”
“See you at five-thirty,” he called after her.
She stopped short at the door. “I almost forgot, I need lightbulbs. A lot of them. Half the lamps and wall fixtures at Sara’s place are burned out.”
“We’ve got a fine selection of bulbs. You want the energy savers?”
“What I want are really, really bright bulbs. I swear that old house is as dark as a cave.”
“Sounds like you need halogen for at least some of the fixtures.” He came out from behind the counter and led the way to a display of lightbulbs. “I’ll bring takeout with me tonight.”
He intended to arrive at the cocktail hour, and now he was telling her he would bring dinner with him. Somehow her little home-improvement project had just been transformed into a date with Mason Fletcher.
A deer-in-the-headlights sensation made her go very still. They had been together for all of fifteen minutes and Mason was already taking charge.
On the other hand, she had to admit that she liked the idea of having company for a few hours that evening. Last night—her first night back in Sara’s house—she had discovered that she did not like being alone in the place. Something about the atmosphere bothered her in ways she could not explain. Maybe it was because it held too many memories of Sara, or perhaps it was simply because the place was so dark, due to the lack of bulbs.
Nevertheless, she could not let Mason take full control of the situation. He meant well, but he needed some pushback. For his own good, of course.