Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires, 3)

I wake up the next morning excited and ready to meet with the contractor. Now that things with Cal seem to be settled, I feel more ready to work with him on the house.

I breeze through the morning routine with enough energy to rival Cami. Her enthusiasm about starting summer camp rubs off on me, and we spend the entire car ride blasting her favorite song from the latest Dreamland princess movie.

I gave up on my battle against the Kanes and their fairytale empire ages ago. It was a pointless fight, especially when all of Cami’s friends are obsessed with Dreamland and their princess movies. Even I have to admit the films are pretty cute, although Cami and I both agree it would be nice for them to have a movie about someone from Colombia. Bonus points if they’re from Barranquilla like my family.

By the time I arrive back at the house, my mood can’t get any better.

“What has you smiling like that?” Cal peeks into the kitchen.

I drop the pan I was cleaning back into the sudsy water and shut off the music streaming from the portable speaker on the counter. “It’s the first day of summer.”

“Congratulations. What do you plan on doing first?”

I motion toward the dishes. “I need to finish this up before the contractor gets here.”

He begins to roll up the sleeves of his linen shirt, revealing his thick forearms. “How about I dry while you wash?”

I look up from his arms. “Why?”

“Because I finished up the attic, and I don’t have anything else to do before the contractor gets here.”

“You finished that attic already?”

“Yup.” He grabs a towel hanging on the oven and throws it over his shoulder before turning toward me.

I can’t help smiling at him. “Domesticity looks good on you.”

His lips twitch. “Maybe Iris was on to something.”

My spine stiffens. Who the hell is Iris?

I’ve never heard that name come out of his mouth before, but he obviously cares a lot about her based on the way his eyes light up at the mere mention of her name.

I grab the Brillo pad and get to scrubbing the leftover eggs off the pan. Cal stands beside me, drying the pot I had washed a minute ago. The scrape of the scouring pad against metal makes my ears ache.

He nudges me with his elbow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Iris says the same thing when she’s mad.” His voice sounds lighter, and I look up to find his eyes sparkling.

What a dick.

I scrub so hard, a piece of the pad breaks off and floats away.

“Are you sure nothing is wrong?” he teases.

“Yup.”

“If you insist. I’d hate to put our friendship at risk already.”

“Here you go.” I rinse the pan off and pass it to him so he can shut up.

He leans forward to whisper in my ear, “It’s cute to see you get all jealous over my sister-in-law, but it’s really not necessary.”

I blink. “Sister-in-law?”

“Iris Elizabeth Kane. AKA Declan’s wife.”

“Declan got married?”

He nods with a smile. “To my best friend.”

Well, don’t you look like the stupid one now.

“That’s nice that you two are close.” My nose wrinkles.

He taps it. “Declan doesn’t seem to agree either.”

A laugh catches in my throat. “How is he?”

“Insufferable as always.”

“That’s a shame. Hopefully he finally got that surgery to help with his resting dick face.”

Cal throws his head back and laughs. The combination of his smile and the light streaming through the window makes him rival the sun. I step closer, desperate for the warmth only he can provide.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He wraps an arm around me and tugs me against him. The gesture is intended to be completely platonic, but the tingling from my head to my toes definitely isn’t. Cal doesn’t seem any better with the way he leans close and sniffs my hair while he thinks I’m not looking.

My heart thuds loudly, blocking my hearing.

Day one of being just friends is going well. Can’t wait for what’s in store next.

Ryder Smith, the general contractor from Lopez Luxury, pulls out a tape measure. “Shall we get started with a walkthrough of the house?”

Cal looks over at me with a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Ready?”

My right eye twitches. “Of course.”

Cal and I are careful to keep a wide berth between us while we show Ryder the house. The few times we end up touching, one of us has a knee-jerk reaction. I’m not sure if this is what Cal had in mind when he suggested being friends, but I’m hoping we can snap out of it.

Ryder doesn’t seem to notice. He jots down notes on his clipboard while asking us a ton of questions, some of which I don’t know the answers to.

Ryder squats down near the entrance to the kitchen where the wood floor switches to vinyl. “Does the wood floor continue under here?”

Cal looks over at me like I should know the answer.

“I remember my mom saying the previous owner covered up the floors in the kitchen, so I think the original flooring runs throughout the house.”

“I can have one of my guys take a look and confirm if that’s true. If they are original, we only need to refinish them which will save us a lot of time compared to waiting for a new floor.”

“With us setting such a high sale price, would buyers expect something more modern? Like marble perhaps?” Cal crosses his arms against his chest, giving me a perfect view of his veiny forearms.

I nearly miss what he says because I’m too distracted from the arm porn happening right now.

“Marble?” I ask.

“What’s wrong with marble?” Cal frowns.

“It doesn’t fit the style of the house.”

“Neither does the price tag, but that didn’t bother you before.” He grins.

I could strangle him right here, right now with Ryder as my sole witness. Maybe for the right price, he would be willing to supply me with some cement sneakers.

Ryder’s dark eyes bounce between the two of us. “If you want marble floors for a house of this size, you’re looking at a six-month wait, at the very least, depending on our supplier.”

Cal waves his hand in the air. “That won’t work then. Let’s stick with the original floors.”

Ryder moves on to the kitchen while Cal and I follow behind. He pokes around and scribbles notes across his clipboard while making different noises to himself. Some sound confirmatory while others make the hairs on my arms raise.

He seems especially unhappy when he whips out a handy-dandy tool and starts hacking away at a goddamn wall. He mutters a curse under his breath before turning to face us. “So do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

Cal leans against the island with a smile. “You found something good about the place? I’m absolutely shocked.”

I pinch him in the side. “I’ll take the bad news first please.”

“You have asbestos.”

Oh, no.

“You’re kidding me.” Cal frowns.

“It’s pretty typical in homes of this age. We need to contact an asbestos abatement contractor who works with us to come out and carefully remove the mineral fiber from the walls, floors, and insulation.”

Cal pulls out his phone and gets to researching, completely tuning out my panicked gasp.

“They’re going to have to rip out walls?”

“Potentially. I’m not going to open up any more holes without the proper equipment.”

“What’s the good news?” I rub my temple.

“It shouldn’t take longer than three weeks, give or take how soon someone can come out here to clear it out. By the time you come back, all of it should be removed and we can get started on the demo. It will set us behind a bit with our timeline, but you can spend the time picking out the finishes.”

My world spins around me like I just stepped off a tilt-a-whirl. “Whoa. Wait. What do you mean come back? Where are we going?”

Ryder frowns. “Now that we found asbestos, I don’t recommend you stay here until we have professionals remove it.”

“Why not?”

Cal speaks up, his jaw working. “Because there is no way I’m letting you live around something that could cause you cancer.”

“Cancer?” My eyes widen.

“Pack your bags because you and Cami are staying with me at the guesthouse.”

After Ryder leaves, I do my own thorough search about what kind of health risks asbestos poses while Cal takes the initiative and books an abatement team to get started on Friday once I pack up the rest of the house.

I only have two options for a temporary living situation, one of which is automatically a no-go because Violet has two roommates right now and no guest bedroom for me and a small child. Delilah and Wyatt’s two-bedroom starter home is my only other option. I just need to call Delilah once she gets off work and ask her first.

Cal doesn’t seem to like me evading his order to stay at the guesthouse. He hasn’t stopped following me around all afternoon, which has been both annoying and useful when I need to reach tall items.

I navigate my way through the garage, careful not to run into any of the stacks of boxes Cal lined up for the moving company.

I get distracted by his presence and trip. He catches my elbow before I fall face-first into a row of boxes.

“Will you stop following me around everywhere?” I rip my hand out of his grasp.

“Not until you agree to not staying here tonight.”

“Fine!” I throw my hands in the air. “I didn’t plan on sleeping here anyway.”

His brows pull together. “So, you’re staying at the guesthouse?”

“No.” I struggle to reach for the luggage on the top shelf despite balancing on the tips of my toes.

Cal reaches around my body and grabs the suitcase off the shelf for me. The brush of his chest against my back has me suppressing a shiver, a fact that doesn’t seem to go unnoticed based on the way he trails a single digit down my spine.

“Where are you going to go then?” His question has a certain edge to it.

Oh, that’s it.

I turn on my heels, and our chests brush. “I don’t know, but there is no way in hell I’m sharing the guesthouse with you.”

“Why not?”

I throw my hands in the air. “Because it’s a terrible idea!”

“Afraid you can’t control yourself around me?” His signature smile comes back at full force, turning my whole world upside down.

My scoff lacks its usual bravado. “I can control myself.”

“Is that so?” The pad of his thumb follows the curve of my bottom lip, sending a zip of energy down my spine. My head pathetically tilts closer to him.

Emphasis on pathetic.

I shove him away, although the push is weak at best. My fingers itch to dig themselves into his shirt and pull him back, solely so I can feel the rush his touch provides.

That right there is why you can’t live with him.

I slip out of his cage and charge away, dragging the suitcases behind me to the soundtrack of Cal’s laugh.

I spend the rest of the day packing up the necessities for Cami and myself, which is an exhausting endeavor in itself. I’m not looking forward to packing everything else away before the asbestos abatement team comes.

I don’t have a lot of keepsakes. The most important thing I own happens to be a shoebox crammed full of memories. I climb the ladder in my closet and search for the box. It’s kept out of reach, hidden behind an old Santa gift I forgot to put under the tree a couple of years ago.

I brush a shaky hand across the dusty shoebox top before removing it. My hand trembles as I sift through the countless photos, tickets, a few of Cal’s hospital bands from all the times he got injured because of me, Cami’s favorite pacifier, and other memorabilia from my entire life. It’s bittersweet how twenty-nine years of memories can fit in a single shoebox. There was once a time I dreamed of more for myself than this town. I love Lake Wisteria—I really do—but it was never meant to be the adventure.

It was supposed to be the final destination.

Now you will finally have a chance to make your dreams come true.

With the money I’m bound to get from the selling the house, there isn’t anything stopping me anymore from traveling around the world and opening my own bakery here.

Well, nothing except for myself. Self-doubt always rears its ugly head at the worst times, making me wonder if I really have what it takes to be successful.

You’ll never know if you don’t try.

“Mommy!” Cami runs into the closet.

My grip on the shoebox slips and falls against the floor, bottom side up.

“Oh, no! I’m sorry!” Cami gets on her knees and lifts the box, proceeding to dump all the contents.

“I got it. Don’t worry about it.” I climb down the ladder.

She holds up a photo with a big smile. “Look! It’s you and Cow-l holding hands!”

Of all the photos she found, it had to be the one of him and me at the Strawberry Festival six summers ago.

“Mm-hm.” I pluck the photo from her hands and drop it into the box.

Her head tilts. “Do you like him, Mommy?”

“We were friends.”

“Like kissing friends or friends friends?”

Por el amor de Dios. “Just friends.”

A rare frown crosses her face.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she replies with a tone that says the opposite.

You need to be more careful with him when you’re around her.

Cami is the last person who should be getting her hopes up about us. Whatever happened in the past between Cal and me is just that.

The past.