The House on Everly Lane: a paranormal romance by Layne Deemer

Author:Layne Deemer [Deemer, Layne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-08-14T18:30:00+00:00

JEREMY

* * *

I don’t know why I needed to say that. It’s not like she’s insinuated she wants anything more from me than friendship. But maybe I said it more for myself. Because the thoughts I’ve been having are not welcome and they’re not fair. Not to her.

This Silas guy seems to be interested in Darcy. There’s no missing the smolder in his eyes in the few pictures I’ve seen. And while the idea pains me more than I can say, the look she’s giving me now hurts more. All of this touching is muddying the water. Where there were clear boundaries before, now there are questionable lines drawn in chalk. And I’m ready to erase them altogether. Maybe she is, too.

“So, tell me more about Silas. What’s he do for a living?” I don’t want the answer to that question. Anything she tells me will only make me hate him more. It all serves as a reminder that he possesses the one thing I covet most. A heartbeat. But if he’s going to be the one Darcy ends up with, the least I can do is make sure he’s worthy.

She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, and I have to look away. “Well, he’s pretty nice, despite the Hemingway issue.” She chuckles, but I can’t make myself join. “Um, he owns a construction business and, actually, he told me his team is donating their labor to help rebuild the home that was destroyed by fire.”

Son of a bitch. How can I hate a guy who’s doing something as selfless as building a new home for a family in need and not getting paid to do it? “That’s very generous of him.” It takes everything in me not to grind the words out. I keep my voice even and tone light.

“I offered to help the crew paint when they’re ready,” she says with a half shrug.

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” She nods. “My parents like to keep themselves busy with house projects and they enjoy doing everything themselves. When I lived at home, I used to love helping them paint. I’m pretty skilled at cutting in. The trick is to have a very steady hand.” She wears an adorable lopsided grin, looking proud of herself.

I give her an easy smile. “Huh, I can’t say I’ve read much about painting walls in any of the books up here. There’ve been some stories about artists, but very little about home improvement.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I don’t suppose that’s a topic that makes for enthralling reading. Maybe it doesn’t make for very interesting conversation, either.” Her cheeks flush and she looks down at her lap.

“Nonsense. You’re like a walking, talking book. You fascinate me. And I’ll be honest, sometimes I’d love to skip ahead to your last page, but then I’d miss out on all the little details along the way. And that’s a sacrifice I’m not willing to make.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to shove them back in. I just laid my cold, dead heart on the table, casually like the way you’d hand someone a tissue.

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