Man's Best Friend (The Dogmothers #5) - Roxanne St. Claire Page 0,103

Declan extended his hand and forced a smile. “Nice to see you.” Now take your money and leave our house.

“Oh, you know each other?” Evie asked, surprised.

“We met briefly on the street,” Bell said. “Declan. Nice costume.”

Declan let the compliment—which didn’t exactly sound like one—pass as he looked beyond the other man. “Is your fiancée here?” he asked. “The one who’s in love with the house?”

“I didn’t dare bring her,” he said on a laugh. “Because, trust me, she wouldn’t leave until this woman right here signed a contract.” He jabbed Evie with a playful elbow. “You still have my offer. I can have a deal drawn up by tomorrow.”

“Mr. Bell, now is not the time,” Evie said gracefully. “But please, I know you wanted to have a look around, so you should enjoy our Living Museum.” She turned when someone called her name.

“I really wanted to see it all,” he said, undaunted. “Could I just—”

“I’ll show you around,” Declan said, easing the man away from Evie.

She gave him a grateful look and mouthed, “Thanks.”

And just to let this rude guest know what’s what, Declan leaned down and added a light kiss on her lips. “I got this, E.”

She slipped away, and he turned to the man who might have missed the whole exchange as he gaped around.

“We can start in the dining room,” Declan said, aware of a burst of laughter that came from some members of his family, making him really hope this diversion didn’t last long so he could get back to people he’d rather be with.

But he wasn’t going to let this guy ruin Evie’s big night with talk of offers and contracts.

“The dining room?” Bell sounded less than enthused.

“Where two governors dined.”

“Hmm.” His gaze still scanned the area quickly, his interest in the dining room was pretty low. For all his money, he probably couldn’t even appreciate the unique beauty of that ceiling or the finishings or the history.

He didn’t deserve this house.

“Folklore has it that Amelia Bushrod almost had a baby on the table,” Declan added, waiting for at least a surprised look, but getting none.

“I heard there’s quite an art and jewelry collection.” Bell leaned in. “You think she’ll sell it all with the house? Because, I’m telling you, I want it all.”

Annoyance slithered through Declan with every word the guy spoke. “I can only tell you that she isn’t selling the house in the foreseeable future, so if I were you, I’d seriously think about finding another.”

“Mmm.” Bell seemed to ignore the warning as his gaze darted around the dining room again, then back into the crowded entry. Across the hall, Declan saw his uncle and Katie had joined a growing group of family, and Evie was right there with them. Irritation kicked again, because that’s where he wanted to be.

“So, enough of a look?” Declan asked. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, no, I’m not nearly done.” Bell headed around the stairs. “I want to see every inch I can. I’ve waited a long time to get back…” He pointed. “There. To the museum room? Is that what they call it? I saw an article in an old issue of North Carolina Living.”

Declan blew out a breath and tipped his head. “Follow me.”

As they rounded the steps, Bell inched closer to whisper, “What’s it going to take, you think? I mean, you’re obviously her main squeeze. More money? Some kind of guarantee that I’ll keep everything as is?”

Declan had to dash some hopes, and fast. “Look, you want me to be honest?”

“Yeah, man. Help me out here.” They stepped into the double doorway of the museum room, and Bell’s eyes widened like a kid’s in a candy store. “Are you kidding me?” His gaze lingered on some paintings, a display of necklaces, the large shelf full of lighters, then slid to the piano. “Would you freaking look at that thing?”

That thing…where a sweet old lady hid a twenty-year-old piece of paper that meant the world to him. That thing…that Evie played during a recital he sat through because he already loved her when they were kids. That thing…that maybe his own little girl might someday play Beethoven on and impress a boy.

“That’s not for sale,” he said quickly.

“Anything? That big portrait?”

Of Glory Bushrod herself? Was he kidding? “No.”

“That settee?”

Where he and Evie made out for the first time as adults? “No.”

“That lighter collection?”

“Nothing is for sale, Mr. Bell. Not anything in this room, and not this house.” He kept his voice