The Detective. Adrienne Giordano
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one. I just don’t know how to install it.”
“I can do it. Do you have a drill?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Lexi laughed. “About me installing it or the drill?”
“The drill. You can do anything. Everyone knows that.”
“I love when you suck up.”
She swept her arm in a huge semicircle. “Welcome to paradise.”
Lexi glanced around the foyer, where fist-size holes marred the walls. Someone had done a number on the place. “If this is paradise, I want out.”
“I know. The old owners ripped every light fixture out. They even took the copper pipes. The place is an eyesore, but your very own Nate said it’s structurally sound. Don’t worry. All the mold has been removed.”
Mold. Dear God. “Excellent.”
“Thank you for squeezing me in.”
“It’s fine. I’m working on another project that suddenly has a delay. A delay by way of a hunky detective.”
Being a single and clock-ticking female, Candace pursed her lips. “Hunky detectives?”
“One hunky detective. Not plural.”
Candace rolled her bottom lip in disappointment and Lexi raised her hands. “Don’t stress. The way things are going, he and I don’t exactly agree, so he might be yours by default.”
“What happened?”
“It’s the Williams project. Brodey is on short-term disability leave—elbow surgery—from the police department. He’s a homicide detective.”
“Ew.”
“Exactly. Anyway, his sister, Jenna, is a private investigator Mrs. Williams hired to look into her husband’s murder. Jenna recruited him to help. The man is bored and has thrown himself into this. At this moment, he’s coming up with all the reasons I can’t demolish the laundry room.”
Candace folded her arms and leaned against a railing that looked barely stable enough to support its own weight, never mind hers. “And that’s killing your forty-five-day timeline.”
“Yes. Thank you! The hunky detective doesn’t seem to understand that I need to get this house sold. I want that bonus. The bonus gets me my assistant, a solid seven hours of sleep every night and time to clean out my garage so I can make it an office. I’m ready to collapse.”
“I can’t believe you haven’t cleaned that mess out. Hire someone to do it, for God’s sake.”
“No. There’s a ton of stuff in there from the old owner. There might be lost treasures I can use.”
Candace waved her to the kitchen. “I have a fresh pot on. You need to decompress for a few minutes before we get into this.”
That sounded heavenly. Decompression. With a pal. Realization hit that she’d spent the past months virtually ignoring her friends. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being a bad friend.”
“Honey, you’re helping me with this pit and not charging me. You’re a great friend.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’ve been busy and haven’t made time for the people I care about. That’s not right.”
“So, you help sell the Williams place and hire an assistant. You’re fixing it. Don’t be hard on yourself because you’re ambitious. Now, back to more important matters. What’s up with this hunk? Has he discovered anything on the murder?”
They entered the kitchen, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee taunted Lexi’s senses. The surprisingly clean maple cabinets glowed, but the peeling linoleum counters had to go. The cabinets could probably stay, but not the linoleum. Candace filled two mugs and set one down next to the cream and sugar so Lexi could destroy a perfect cup of black coffee. Her friends knew her so well.
“He just started. Heck, I’m even helping him. On the way out of the house this morning I met one of the neighbors walking his dog. He stopped me. Being nosy, I guess. Anyway, I asked him if he saw anything the night of the murder.”
“And?”
She dumped two teaspoons of sugar into her coffee, poured milk in and took a gulp. “Nada. Of course, I don’t know what I expected. I just want this thing wrapped up so I can get to work.”
Candace set her cup on the island and leaned on her elbows. “I’ve been following this story for work. It’s amazing that in such a tight community they have no leads. Someone had to have seen something.”
“You’d think. Maybe talking to the police scares them.”
“What does your hunky detective think?”
“He thinks there’s evidence in the laundry room and won’t let me rip it up. We had a blowout about it this morning.”
Candace tilted her head and narrowed her eyes in that determined-reporter way of hers. “You like this guy.”
Unfortunately, yes. “You haven’t seen him. There’s plenty to like. Setting aside that whole pushy-alpha-male thing. Honestly, he’s a little annoying.”
“And, yet, you like him. Which, correct me if I’m wrong, is a big step for you. You haven’t been interested in a man since—”
Lexi’s arms shot up. “Whoa, girlfriend. I know exactly how long it’s been. We don’t need to discuss it.”
Candace waved her off. “What are you doing about this blowout with the detective? Come on, Lex, I can tell you like this guy. It sounds like he’s just trying to do his job—even if it is a volunteer assignment.” She leaned in, gave Lexi a wicked smile. “How often do hunky detectives come into your life?”
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