Ghouls Rush In Page 3

  “Well, let’s just say that if I realized you were such a drill sergeant, I would’ve pretended not to have a phone,” I finished, sounding haughty despite my amusement.

  “No more excuses, Ms. Grumpy-Pants.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said and attempted to stifle a yawn as I stretched my legs out before me. Standing up, I lumbered over to the electric heater, which began making a zapping sort of sound it hadn’t been making yesterday. Maybe Ryan was right about it being a fire hazard. Surprisingly, I hadn’t electrocuted myself or burned my house down yet, considering a portable heater and ancient electrical outlets weren’t exactly ideal bedfellows when mixed with water.

  “I’ll meet you in the hotel lobby at noon with a list of some reliable general contractors in the area, should you need one.” He said the last part without even trying to conceal the smile in his tone—making it more than obvious that Ryan thought I needed a general contractor or two. Or maybe even three.

  “Thanks,” I answered, feeling somehow deflated that our conversation switched from heated flirtation to mere business so quickly. I reminded myself that first and foremost I had a mission to see to fruition—remodeling my house. Flirting with Ryan Kelly didn’t fit into my plans. That’s all there was to it.

  “And another thing, Peyton, I know the contractors on this list personally, so I’ll make sure they give you a good deal,” he added.

  “The neighborly rate?” I asked with a laugh. Luckily for me, my divorce settlement was a decent one, which would allow me to rebuild my dream home. Granted, it wasn’t going to see me through the rest of my life, but I figured the settlement would last me a good year. By that time, I’d very happily be ready to work again. Actually, the idea of getting a job didn’t depress me at all. During the stint of my marriage, Jonathon forbade me from working. I was convinced he didn’t want anything to detract from him being the center of my world.

  Because I didn’t work during my marriage, I never felt as if anything surrounding me was mine. I’d had zero say in the purchase of our home—Jonathon had just shown up one afternoon with the news that he’d bought a house. My car appeared one day just as mysteriously as the house; even the clothes in my closet bore Jonathon’s stamp.

  A successful Los Angeles attorney, my ex-husband had more money than he could spend. And despite the fun of never having to worry about anything financial, I would have traded the Bel Air mansion, sports cars, fair-weather friends, and all the rest of it for real love—for a husband who loved me for the true me, not the woman he wanted to me to be. And, even if I could’ve changed myself into that Stepford wife, I still doubted Jonathon would really have loved me. Nope, the only person Jonathon could love was Jonathon.

  Thankfully, I wouldn’t have to worry about finding a job for a little while but when the time came, I would welcome it because it would be another example of how I was now living for myself. And what was more, I was excited about the prospect of actually being able to put my flare for history to use. Maybe I’d take up a position as a museum docent or a librarian at the historical society. Whatever job I ended up with was really beside the point at this stage. What mattered to me most was that every decision I made would be just that—a decision I made.

  “No,” Ryan chuckled. “It’s not the neighbor rate. It’s the ‘I better get someone to lowball the job so this girl will hire someone to renovate her deathtrap so I can sleep at night’ rate.”

  The Omni Royal hotel was a nineteenth-century marvel of vastly high ceilings, ornate crown molding, vanilla-colored walls, expansive white marble floors, and elegant crystal-prismed chandeliers. True to his word, Ryan hooked me up with a room, and his sister, Trina, was kind enough to comp the entire thing. A free room at the Omni Royal was beyond generous in its own right, but I was more than shocked to find that my “room” was actually a suite, complete with a living room separated from the bedroom by double doors. With a wrought iron balcony overlooking the very fashionable Royal Street, I swallowed a large gulp and took in the plushness of a velvet gold sofa and mahogany table with two dark-brown velvet club chairs. All faced a flat-screen TV that was at least sixty inches wide. Rich coppery drapes trimmed the sides of the French doors, which opened to the wrought iron balcony. The room was stylish with the essence of ornate finery.

  Just as awe-inspiring as the living room was the bedroom. A king-size bed first captured my attention, with its rich mahogany headboard and the taupe silk pillows piled high in front of it. A mahogany bench upholstered in gold velvet occupied the end of the bed, a nice contrast to the two chocolate boudoir chairs that faced the room.

  “This is too much for me to accept,” I started, turning to face Trina and shaking my head. Trina was tall, eye to eye with me. I had more of a curvaceous body—natural C-cup boobs and wide hips that would have made me look like a pear were it not for my bust—while she was rather slender and small-framed. She looked younger than Ryan…I would have pinned her around thirty, maybe. Ryan appeared to be in his late thirties. Trina’s eyes were hazel with flecks of gold in them, making them look more amber. Full lips, oval face, high cheekbones, and golden hair, Trina was definitely a looker. And very definitely Ryan’s sister. The family resemblance was uncanny.

  “Don’t be silly,” she started in a voice reminiscent of Scarlett O’Hara. I was just waiting for her to bust out with “fiddle-dee-dee!”

  “Please, I insist you let me pay for it,” I continued. I was entirely uncomfortable with accepting Ryan and Trina’s generosity, especially since it wasn’t like I couldn’t afford it.

  The attractive blond shook her head with a duplicate expression of her brother the previous night. Apparently, obstinacy ran in the Kelly family. “I’m goin’ to give you a brief lesson on Southern hospitality,” she interrupted. “You’ll find people down here happily go out of their way to help you. That’s because we like doin’ it, honey. So please, just let us.”

  I laughed and nodded my consent, feeling immediately drawn to her easy yet direct manner. “Point taken and lesson learned. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” she finished, dismissing the conversation with a French-manicured hand. I noticed she wasn’t wearing a ring on her graceful fingers, so I assumed she wasn’t married. Not that I could swing both ways…Nope, I was very happy in my fully convinced heterosexuality. But I could also appreciate true beauty—be it male or female.

  But while I could recognize Trina as a beautiful woman, it was her brother I couldn’t seem to get out of my mind. Which in a word…sucked. My rational side kept insisting that my attraction to Ryan Kelly wasn’t part of my plans. I was newly divorced and needed to focus on living by myself, for myself. In no way was I ready for any sort of romantic liaison, not that Ryan was looking for one…

  While the rational side of me could see things plainly in black and white, the emotional side of me, also known as the idealistic, girly side, couldn’t stop thinking about Ryan. His dimpled smile and the way his Southern accent sounded so lazily relaxed…as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Besides, this hotel already owes my brother quite a few favors,” Trina continued with a knowing smirk. “And he phoned in one of those favors for you, so you better accept it!”

  I laughed and nodded, liking how immediately at ease I felt around her. So at ease, as a matter-of-fact, that I dared to do some digging where her brother was concerned. “The hotel owes your brother some favors?” I repeated. “Why is that?”

  She shrugged like I should’ve already known the answer to my own question. “Ryan was the general contractor on the remodel.”

  My eyebrows raised up in surprise as I studied my surroundings again with renewed interest before bringing my confused expression back to Trina. “He was the general contractor?” I repeated dubiously. Something here didn’t ring true…hadn’t Ryan told me he only “dabbled” in construction? Looking around myself again, there was no way a “dabbler” could have achieved such a magnificent result.

 
“You better believe it, honey,” Trina said, nodding all the while. “If my brother excels at anythin’, it’s his talent to accurately restore old mansions.”

  “Hmm,” I said with a deep breath. I wasn’t sure if I was setting myself up for an unpleasant outcome, but I wanted to get to the bottom of whether Trina or her brother was stretching the truth. “Ryan told me he only ‘dabbled’ in construction?”

  Trina nodded without surprise. Then she sighed. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

  “So there’s a disconnect there somewhere?” I spoke before thinking I might be treading into personal territory where I had no right to intrude. “I’m sorry…it’s none of my business.”

  Cocking her head to the side, Trina didn’t argue with me. Instead, her attention was on the French doors, where she seemed to zone out on the view just beyond them. “Ryan used to own the largest construction company in N’awlins,” she said with a wistful smile. “Kelly’s Construction,” she finished softly.

  I glanced around myself again, taking in the lushness of the living room before recalling the immense foyer of the Omni Royal. If Ryan could manage a project this massive, Trina was right—he was well beyond talented. Even more, he was easily more than qualified for my remodel. Well, that is, if he was still in the construction business. Seeing the nostalgic expression on Trina’s face, I got a feeling the answer to that question was a resounding no. “So, is Kelly’s Construction still around?” I asked sheepishly.

  Trina immediately shook her head as the wistful, sad smile returned to her lips. “Unfortunately it hasn’t been around for the last—what?—four years now.”

  “What happened?” I asked even though I knew I was becoming nosy again. “Did business dry up or something?”

  Trina shook her head. “Findin’ jobs and keepin’ clients have never been a problem for Ryan. He’s always gotten more work than he could handle. He actually had waitin’ lists.”

  “So why isn’t he still doing it?”

  Wrapping her fingers around the back of her neck, a general expression of worry came over her face, like she wasn’t sure if she should tell me or not. Reluctant to corner her into a tough position, I interrupted. “Trina, you don’t have to tell me, really. I’ve already asked you too many questions and stuck my nose where it doesn’t belong. I have a tendency to do that,” I continued apologetically. I sighed. “I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable and I apologize.”

  “No,” she said with authority. “It’s better I tell you than for you to ask him, especially since you are lookin’ for a contractor to remodel your home.” She continued nodding vehemently, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as me. “It’s probably just a matter of time before the conversation comes up anyway…” she said mostly to herself.

  “Well, as for contractors, Ryan said he would meet me in the lobby at noon with a list of names.”

  She nodded, but didn’t seem convinced. Then she sighed despondently. “I’m sure they are all good, Peyton, but not one of them is Ryan Kelly.”

  I shook my head, failing to grasp what she was trying to tell me. “But, by the sound of it, Ryan’s no longer available?”

  She nodded again with a deep breath, only to exhale it for a count of three. She cleared her throat and brought her eyes to mine. “Ryan was married for maybe six years,” she started. I felt a spire of disappointment jet through me at the thought that he was off the market…or was. Irritated, I shoved the thought right out of my head. “Elizabeth was his whole life,” Trina continued, smiling fondly as if she were looking at a picture of them together. Then her smile fell. “One day, she was visitin’ one of his job sites. While she was waitin’ for him to free up, she took a walk around the property and…just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “What happened?” I asked quietly, dreading the answer but unable to hide my curiosity.

  “One of the foremen was workin’ on the balcony a few floors above her, and somehow or another, the balcony collapsed right on top of her. She was killed instantly.”

  “Oh my gosh,” I whispered, suddenly understanding why Kelly’s Construction was now silenced. “And the foreman?”

  “He broke his back and remains paralyzed,” Trina answered and sighed as she turned away. Even though the accident happened years ago, it was still very obvious she was haunted by it. She shook her head and dropped her eyes onto her fidgeting hands.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, at a complete loss as to what I should say.

  “It hit Ryan hard,” she continued, glancing up at me. “He closed shop that day and never worked on another construction job again. Luckily for him, he’d made enough money that he didn’t need to.”

  I was quiet, searching for something to say. But everything I thought of just seemed to fall flat, sounding inauthentic or flimsy. “I don’t know what to say except I’m really sorry,” I managed at last.

  She nodded as if she understood my loss for words. I had nothing to offer that could in any way ease the pain her family had to have endured. “I have one favor to ask you,” she started with a sweet smile.

  My eyebrows rose up on their own accord. “Sure.”

  “I would really love it if Ryan were the general on your job.”

  My eyebrows rose even higher. “Trina,” I started, shaking my head at the realization of the monumental task that would surely be.

  “I know what you’re goin’ to say,” she interrupted me. “And the chances of him takin’ your job are next to nothin’; but I’m his sister and I want to see him get better, Peyton.” She was quiet for another few seconds. “It’s been a long time,” she continued. “I expected him to be back in business one or two years ago.”

  “Maybe he just doesn’t enjoy it anymore,” I started.

  She shook her head. “Ryan loves construction. He often said how restorin’ historical places gave his life meanin’. I know he misses it.” She chewed on her lower lip. “I really want him to put the past behind him, to move on.”

  “I definitely get that…”

  “Will you please just ask him to take on your job?” she interrupted. “All I’m askin’ is for you to ask him to be the general, and if he says no, we’ll have to leave it at that.”

  I studied her for a second and saw the fight in her eyes, which I admired. She was a good sister. But, good sister or not, I didn’t want to disappoint her. “You realize, of course, he’s going to say no, right?”

  She shrugged. “You never know until you ask, right?” Then she smiled knowingly. “Besides, I have a feelin’ he might have a soft spot for you.”

  “For me?” I asked incredulously. I shook my head and took a few steps away from her, as if my whole body resisted the very idea. “I don’t even know him!”

  “I know, I know,” she said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “But he did tell me that he went to check on you in the middle of that nasty storm last night…”

  “Hank was the one who suggested it,” I interrupted, feeling as if I were trying to talk not only Trina out of this ridiculousness but myself also. There was no reason to get caught up in thinking that Ryan might be interested in me because there was also a good chance that he wasn’t. Furthermore, I wasn’t shopping for anything romantic…

  She frowned at me. “Well, did Hank call me to say I’d better set you up with a free room for as long as you needed it or he’d disown me?”

  I laughed. “I’m guessing the answer to that question is no?”

  She nodded. “I’m just sayin’ I think my brother has a soft spot for damsels in distress, and given the shoddy nature of your roof, I’d say you’re in dire distress, honey.”

  “I guess I can’t really argue that one.”

  “So just do us all a favor and tell him you want him as the general. And, trust me,” she continued as she opened the doors to the balcony, and the transparent white curtains beneath the gold tapestry drapes fluttered in the breeze, “he’ll do an amazin’ job on
your renovation. He’s remodeled most of the renowned mansions in the Garden District and the French Quarter. He’s sort of a household name around these parts…well, at least he was.”

  “I can tell he is very good at his job,” I admitted before returning my attention to Trina, who was smiling back at me.

  “Will you ask him, Peyton?”

  I nodded but frowned all the while. “Of course I will.”

  “That’s all I want,” she said, suddenly excited again, almost like a child. “Who knows, the obstinate man might even say yes!”

  Speaking of the obstinate man, I spotted a clock hanging above the dining table and saw it was already noon. Ryan would be waiting in the lobby for me. Trina followed my gaze and nodded, escorting me to the door.

  “If you need any help retrievin’ your belongings from your house, just let me know. I can send one of my bellmen.”

  I shook my head. “I think I can at least handle packing my own clothes,” I laughed. “Thank you though.”

  I followed her down the hallway and into the elevator. In true elevator protocol, neither of us said anything for the entire ride down. When we reached the lobby, Trina held the door for me and I walked out, immediately noticing Ryan’s imposing form on a chair beside a baby grand piano. As soon as he saw us, he stood up and, with a boyish smile, approached us. He immediately threw his bulky arms around his sister, enveloping her until she nearly disappeared.

  “You’re gonna suffocate me, you big brute!” she called out as she playfully swatted him away.

  He shrugged. “I can always put you in a headlock instead?”

  She laughed, taking a few steps away from him before facing me. “He would too.”

  I laughed even though I couldn’t help feeling awkward, like I was a third wheel. Ryan cleared his throat and gave me a smile, his big brother antics apparently now behind him. “Did Trina set you up with a nice room?”