Always the Last to Know by Kristan Higgins Page 0,59

course I do!”

“Then stop being so pessimistic! A caregiver’s attitude can really affect—”

“Get in the car, okay? I have to help Brianna with a history project.”

* * *

— —

Two days later, it was official. I was a property owner.

My house—such nice words, my house!—did need a bit more work than perhaps I acknowledged, now that I was here. Alexander, who was in Sausalito at the moment, the poor bastard, had very sweetly covered the cost of moving my furniture from Juliet’s to here, and the movers had just left after cursing and sweating and wrestling my bed up the narrow stairs, for which they received a generous tip. Otherwise, I had a couch, a table for two, a chair and some pots and pans and kitchen stuff. A couple of lamps. My books and pictures were still at Juliet’s, but I wanted to sleep here tonight and get the feel of the place.

I also wanted to put some distance between my mother and me. Her disapproval of whatever I did, had done and would do seeped into every interaction we had. Even my care of Dad seemed to irk her, and her own lack of tenderness irked me right back. I had paintings to do, and she hated the smell. Even though their house was huge, there never seemed to be enough room for the two of us.

Hence, my purchase.

Perhaps not the best decision.

Did I mention I had no neighbors? Fifteen years in New York City had made me used to that safety in numbers thing. In the entire time I’d lived there, I’d never once been scared.

But I was kind of scared now. What if Connecticut had a serial killer? What if those giant coyotes that ate cats marked me as a slow runner?

I should get a dog. I would get a dog. I glanced at my watch. Shit. Six o’clock and already dark. Allegedly, my heat was on, but it was cold in here. I did have a fireplace, but Jules told me I’d burn to death if I tried to make a fire.

Maybe I’d go to my parents’ house to sleep. Get the dog tomorrow, preferably a large, vicious, loyal-to-only-me type, and see if Alexander would be back from California and wanted to spend the weekend in scenic Connecticut doing a little house renovation. We’d be a team, like that irritating couple on the house-flipping show that I did indeed watch. Except that we’d be adorable. In fact, maybe we’d get our own show. I knew art and had great taste, and Alexander was rich and photogenic. What else did you need?

The knock on the door made me scream.

“Jesus!” yelled the person. I peeked out the window.

It was Noah.

No baby this time. Just him, looking irritable and beautiful.

“Hi,” I said, opening the door.

He didn’t answer.

“Hello, Noah,” I said, enunciating.

“Your mother sent me.”

I sucked in a breath of cold air. “Why? Is my dad okay?”

“He’s fine. She wanted me to check your house.” I closed my eyes in relief. “But I can go if you want. Which would be my preference.”

“You’re so very sweet, Noah. Come on in. What little heat I have is racing out of here.”

He came in, brushing past me.

Damn. He smelled so good—wood and polyurethane and laundry detergent. “How’s your baby?” I asked.

He deigned to allow half his mouth to twitch in a smile. “He’s great.”

I nodded. “Good. Well. What do you think?”

“Money pit.”

“That’s what Jules said. I’m glad you let your hair grow again, by the way.” No, Sadie. Nope. Don’t say that. Too late. You did. “I saw your picture on Facebook. That’s all. Nothing big. I wasn’t stalking you.” Please stop. “It was when you were engaged, that’s all. All our classmates were talking about it.” Sigh.

He just looked at me with those dark, dark eyes. As opposed to looking at me with his teeth, for example. God. I needed a drink.

You have a boyfriend, some distant part of my brain sang happily. He’s very nice to you! You almost always have an org—

“I don’t like the sound of that furnace,” Noah said. “Okay if I go downstairs?”

“Sure! Yeah! It’s super dark, though, because there’s no light down there. Which is what happens in the absence of light. Darkness.”

“Are you drunk?” he asked.

“I wish. I’m just feeding off all that brooding masculinity of yours.” I snorted and regretted it deeply.

Noah sighed, took a flashlight out of his toolbox, which I hadn’t noticed before, and found the cellar door, which was easy,