Head over Heels: A Single Dad Romance(9)

And fuck the shit I found when I got there.

There was a truck parked out in front that looked familiar. I couldn't quite place it, but honestly, I should have known. I pulled over with a perfect view of the front of the house and killed the engine. The first thing I noticed was that the For Sale sign was hidden by a big old SOLD sticker. Right there… taunting me.

The next thing I saw was someone walking around inside the house and I wondered if it was the new owners. Every once in a while they would walk past a window, and I each time I got a better view. It was a guy, maybe, probably a guy, tall, or medium height - the shadows were playing with his exact height. Maybe there were a couple of them, or maybe just one guy running around very fast checking out the entire house. Maybe the new owner was chasing some sort of animal that had taken up residence. I shuddered at the thought of something invading my perfect house. Maybe it was for the best I didn't get it after all.

Then I saw him.

Coming around the side of the house and up to the front door, was Michael Saunders. That's when I recognized the truck, and that's when I knew who screwed me over for my perfect house.

Like I said, fuck that shit.

The overwhelming need to take the bull by the horns consumed me and I jumped out of the car before my saner side had a chance to weigh in. I stomped right up to the front door and walked straight into my dream house.

Michael was standing in the middle of the parlor with his back to me and I stopped in my tracks. His faded t-shirt clung like a second skin to the taut muscles of his back and his paint-stained jeans highlighted his incredible ass. Damn it - the man looked good coming and going.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” I realized he was on the phone, and I almost turned around to leave. “It’s got a huge backyard though.” Just a second more and I would have been out the door, and then he said it. “I don’t know what she sees in it, but it’s mine now.”

That stopped me cold, and by the time he clicked off the phone, my blood was boiling. When he turned around, I was waiting for him. "You stole my house," I hissed at him.

Michael stared at me with undisguised amusement. "Hey Devon," he said slowly, "funny seeing you here."

"Oh don't give me that sweet talk buster. You know what you did." I just wanted to slap that smile off his face - I mean I wouldn't - but I wanted to.

"No," he drawled and took a few steps towards me, "I don't think I do."

I gasped in frustration and started to raise my voice, "I was planning on flipping this house but I somehow lost the construction loan and then the house." I actually put up my hands in air quotes to make my point and saw Michael bite back a chuckle. I really could have smacked him for that. My palms were itching to wipe that smirk off his face.

"I don't know what to tell you," he dropped his head in a classic awe-shucks move, and dug the heel of his boot into the well-worn floor;, "All's fair in love and flipping?"

"Damn it!" I yelled and I think even stomped my foot a little bit, "Why do you want it - you don't even flip houses."

"I'm branching out," Michael tossed out casually - and that's when I snapped.

I raised my hand, planning to connect with his well-chiseled face, but he was too fast. He captured my wrist in a vice-like grip and pulled it to his chest. I tried to step back but faltered and almost toppled over. In a flash, his other hand was on my back and he pulled me flush to his rock hard body.

This was not where I thought this day would end up. His body felt so good - so right. My anger was replaced by something else, and I rocked forward slightly and breathed in his scent. I hated myself for enjoying that moment. How could this man encompass both my dream and my demise?

I felt his ragged breathing rumble through me, and I lifted my eyes to his. I almost gasped at what I saw there. His eyes were on fire and I couldn't tell if he wanted to kiss me or take me over his knee and spank me - and heaven help me - I think I wanted him to do both.

"Damn it, Devon," he hissed and suddenly let go of me. He spun on his heel to look out the window and I was left to stare at his back again.

What was wrong with me? I exhaled shakily and walked over to the stairway to get control of my thoughts. I ran my hand down the finely carved banister and remembered the plans I had for it. It wasn't my place to ask, but I had already invested so much time in this house that I couldn't just let go. "What are you planning on doing to it?"

"Probably gut it and put in some wide open floor plan," he said off handily and continued to stare out the window.

"No," I whispered, and sat down on a well-plodded step, "please don't."

He shook his head and looked around the room before peering out the window again, "it's what folks are looking for these days."

In that brief moment, I noticed that all evidence of his fire was gone and I tried to follow suit. "People don't choose to live in a storage container, they buy what we build for them," I tried to be casual as if we were in work, but my voice was still shaky with emotion.

"So," he asked after the silence had become unbearable, "what were you going to do with it?"

"Oh, I had plans," I mused and looked towards the window, "I was all set to move in."

"Move in?" Michael spun around and stared at me, "why would you move into a house you were going to flip?"