266
“Home sweet home.” Jake walks past me through the open doorway, carrying the cases into our new multi-bedroom two-story Hamptons mansion, excitement bubbling over me.
There are sheets and tools everywhere. Amid the chaos and noise of power tools, sawing, and banging, workmen wander around doing seemingly important jobs.
“I thought they were decorating? Sounds like construction.” I point out, with a raised eyebrow, looking at Jake suspiciously.
“I kinda okayed some minor changes in various places,” Jake smirks at me, and my eyebrow raises higher. He doesn’t even try to fake guilt over his admission.
“What happened to the agreement that I would choose the décor? And oversee any refurb!” I narrow my eyes as he ducks under a low-hanging cable to avoid my scrutiny, and I catch a tell-tale mischievous grin pasted on his face. He is shameless.
“Baby … Bambina, I was never going to be easy to live with. I don’t get why you’re so surprised.” He walks off fast with a backward wink, and I shake my head after him, a little exasperated.
No, I wouldn’t expect anything else. This is who he is, and for the most part, I like this side of my Cocky Carrero.
Two workmen wander past, and I catch them looking me over, eyes skimming my legs as they carry a large sheet of wood, leering at me and passing smirks to one another in quiet agreement. I lift my chin defiantly and glare right back.
“I suggest you keep your eyes on your work, or you’ll be finding them scanning the classifieds for another job,” I snap, and both men immediately look away, moving off quickly, acting sheepish. There is no way I am putting up with wandering, sleazy eyes in my own goddamn home. I have realized, through Jake, that men do not have the right to objectify me anymore.
“Saved me the job of doing that.” I’m hit with Jake’s low growl and realize he’s leaning in the doorway watching me. His hand sexily on the jam above his head, stretching out his sculpted torso, a hint of skin peeking from under his lifted shirt, and smirking at me with those sexy devouring eyes.
“Maybe it’s about time I started doing it for myself.” I point out and smile as I slowly cross the marble hall and slide into his waiting arms, nuzzling my face into a chest that screams of home.
“I might allow that occasionally, not every time, though. I get a kick out of growling for a fight and claiming what’s mine.” He buries his face in my neck and kisses it slowly, teasing me into submission. The noise all around us completely kills the mood.
“Maybe we should take a tour and see what has been done.” I look to the ceiling as he slides me loose, taking my hand and leading the way across to the marble stairs, equally curious to get an eyeful of our new home.
“Our bedroom should be done, and our en suite … Lounge and kitchen were on the list of completed rooms too, so all of this is everything else. I’ve been told they’ll only be here 9-5 until it’s done, not on weekends.” He points out, and I’m glad to know this invasion of sweaty men and decorators will be gone soon. I don’t relish being stuck here with a bunch of men I neither know nor trust.
“What are you having redone that needs all these carpenters and … Is that a crowbar?” I ask, shocked to see the large metal pole lying dangerously mid-way up the stairs. Jake scoops down and picks it up with an angry frown on his handsome face, hanging it on the banister to the side.
“Those idiots need to be more damned careful; you could have fallen over that! … I’m having a couple of the extra rooms switched from bedrooms to something we’ll have more use for, and the library and office knocked out into one space for us to have a place to work together.” He’s still glaring at the metal bar hanging between the rails as he guides me past a pile of sawdust on the next step. The workmen are carelessly untidy, something that bothers me. If they’re going to be here from 9-5 for five days of the week, in my home, they could have the decency to sweep up now and again. Or at least move a goddamn crowbar so I don’t fall over it!
“So … Exactly how long do we have to endure all this mess and noise for?” I squint at the men below, walking around carrying what looks like a granite worktop into a small side room.
Tell me again, why we moved in so quickly?
“It looks worse than it is. The house mostly needs paint and paper and our choice of a shit load of furniture. This crew should be done by Friday, neonata. These are all temporary contractors.” Jake waves a hand across the milling workers and continues leading me slowly and carefully up the minefield of the stairs. One hand on my back and the other holding my hand in front of me as though I’m elderly and fragile. He sometimes makes me feel like both when he’s in protector mode.
“Mr. Carrero, Miss. Anderson!” The gushing friendly voice of Monica Briggs, the interior designer, comes at us from the top of the stairs, and she starts floating toward us in a puff of Chanel number five and a red shift dress. I choke as she gets close, trying to ignore the cheek kissing thing she does to Jake, leaving nasty rouge lip tar across his chiseled cheekbone, whorishly marking my man yet air kissing me from a distance.
Hmmmmm.
I reach up and immediately start wiping her mark off his face with my thumb and throw a rather snippy glare in her direction.
The only bitch marking him will be me!
She seems unphased by it, and I resist the urge to elbow Jake when I catch that half smirk on the corner of his mouth as he watches me having a little green-eyed moment, amused by my possessiveness over him.
Yeah, Mr. Carrero, you think that’s funny? I know you wouldn’t like it if some guy was giving me marks all over my face!
“Miss. Briggs, we’re finally home and eager to see what’s been done.” Jake’s in charming mode, all Carrero suave, and sultry-voiced, with his smile reserved for clients and shoulder-rubbing rich folks.
“You must let me show you then.” She gushes, leaning down to slide her arm through his, but I step up beside him quickly so she’s met with my rather close cleavage; at least she has the decorum to look mildly uncomfortable. She smiles tightly and moves back awkwardly, a small rise of red creeping up her neck.
Yeah, I’m the woman of this house … Back off.
Jake slides an arm around my shoulder, swooping in to kiss my temple in a show of adoration. His way of telling her to move away so fluently that she probably doesn’t realize it. He’s doing what needs to be done to get her to understand he’s not interested. It must work as she seems to have remembered her place and smiles, stepping back further to let us continue, gesturing up the stairs towards a lot more noise, raising an eyebrow at Jake. I let him lead the way, pulling me along at a casual pace.
Upstairs, the sound is far worse than the mess, and I can see that a lot has been done despite the tools and sheets all over. The long, wide hall has plastic covering the thick carpet, and an array of glossy white doors stand open to let light fill the area from each room. It’s like a corridor of doors.
She leads us across the walkway, dodging plugs and wires, to our master bedroom, which is close to the start of the main landing, and I’m met with the vision we created on design boards and high-tech computer software. My breath catching, dreamily, at the image of perfection before us. The reality is much more breathtaking than the view from a computer screen.
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