Don't You Wanna Stay Read online

  Wyatt understood he was incredibly lucky to have someone like her working on his behalf, but he recognized the situation might bring up some issues for her personally. He hadn’t gotten where he was by ignoring potential foundation problems.

  “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

  “What?”

  “There’s some similarity to the situation with your ex. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” And he sure as hell didn’t want to be compared to that jackass.

  Surprise cracked that neutral expression she wore. “It’s not the same. This is a business arrangement. One I’m getting the better end of because you’re saving my ass on this renovation.”

  Business. The word might as well have been a shield shoving him back from those unguarded moments they’d had. And maybe he needed the reminder that she wasn’t remotely interested in anything other than getting out from under this albatross of a house. He didn’t have the bandwidth for anything else either, even if he did find her appealing on multiple levels.

  “Fair point. I just wanted to put it out there in case you felt… weird or something.”

  Her lips twitched. “I can assure you, in my line of work, this doesn’t even come close to meriting weird.”

  Wyatt lifted a hand in concession, and she continued.

  “Now, in addition to the interview booth, we’re setting up a series of time-lapse cameras. They’re motion activated, so we won’t just have empty footage in every room they’re set up in. We only have three, so we’ll be moving them around as renovation progresses. Bennet’s going to take all of that and edit the footage into something more formal than the cell phone and GoPro footage you’ve been using.”

  Wyatt glanced at Bennet where she tested a camera mount. “Not that I don’t appreciate the help but are you…” He searched for a word that wouldn’t come off offensive.

  “Qualified?” Deanna suggested. “Yes. I’d wager she has years more experience with video editing than you do. She cut her teeth at Channel 5 and is part of the most sought after team of wedding videographers in the metro area.”

  Bennet made kissing noises in Deanna’s direction.

  Wyatt wasn’t exactly sure what any of that had to do with a renovation show, but he wouldn’t turn away the gift of help. Whatever time he didn’t have to spend on video himself could be turned to the house. “That’s amazing. But why would you help me?”

  Satisfied with the camera position, Bennet secured it. “Because you aren’t the only one who wants to break into this business. I want to produce, and this will help give me some credits in a way that does not involve wasting years of my life getting coffee for a bunch of misogynistic asshats or splicing together the perfect wedding video for nauseatingly happy couples.” She beamed at him. “We’re going to make beautiful TV together.”

  Her grin was infectious.

  “I definitely love the sound of that. I’ve been doing this more or less on my own for a long time.”

  “I think you should be proud of what you’ve bootstrapped and figured out by yourself. We’re just going to elevate it,” Deanna promised.

  “I’ll be honest, this is a lot more than I expected when I suggested this deal.” That Deanna was bringing so much to the table both humbled and excited him.

  “You’re taking a hell of a financial risk to do this. I’m determined to make sure you don’t regret it.”

  “I need to dial in the focus on this camera. Come, be my guinea pig, Wyatt.”

  He dusted off his hands and strode over to Bennet. “Where do you want me?”

  “Right… there. Yes, perfect. I’m going to do some test footage. Deanna, hit him with an interview question.”

  “Okay, remember we’re going to be cutting out the prompt itself, so phrase your answer in such a way that it’s clear what the question was.”

  “Got it.”

  “Tell us how you got into all this. Flipping houses. Restoration. Why do you love it?”

  She had no way of knowing what a loaded question that was. No way was he sharing the painful details related to school and family. But he could talk about Scott.

  “I was always into building things, working with my hands. My brother and I built a treehouse the summer I was twelve. I think that’s where it started. He was the reason I got into flips in the first place. I’d been working construction in one form or other since I was sixteen. I’d been thinking about getting my contractor’s license but waffling on it.” In truth, he hadn’t been sure he could pass the written test. “But my brother bought this total disaster of a house that had been condemned by the city. Didn’t matter what kind of deal he got. I thought he was nuts. If there was something that could be wrong, it was.”

  Remembering his first tour of the place, Wyatt smiled. “My foot went straight through the subfloor about three steps past the front door. I told him he’d thrown his money away. But he told me he could see the potential in the house the same way he could see potential in me. So he basically dared me to take it on, turn it into something beautiful. And I did. I found my calling because my brother had more faith in me than I had in myself and put his money where his mouth was.”

  Because he was watching Deanna instead of the camera, he caught the naked yearning in her eyes. She wanted someone to believe in her. He understood that on a deep and visceral level. Every time she dismissed her dream or her capabilities outside her job, a part of him wanted to reach out and reassure her. But that fell into the realm of the personal, and as she’d said, this was a business arrangement. She was just a job.

  If they were going to survive this renovation, it was best he remember that.

  Chapter 8

  “—Mr. Haywood was actively trash talking our product on social media.”

  Horrified, Deanna shifted into damage control even as she pulled up the relevant Twitter feed on her phone. “I am so beyond sorry, Tamra. This is obviously not what you were going for when you provided Eric with your product for promotion.”

  As she skimmed the offending tweets, she held in a stream of profanity. Did the idiot not understand how product placement worked?

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  Shove a boot up his ass to start.

  “I absolutely understand that you’re upset. I’ll speak to him. Have the tweets removed immediately.”

  A bead of sweat trickled down her spine, as much from anxiety over this latest PR disaster as from the fact that the power was off while they worked on replacing outdated wiring.

  “That’s not going to help with the retweets or the impact he’s already had. This is bad for our brand.”

  “Yes. I absolutely agree.” Brain spinning, she tried to find a solution that wouldn’t result in her being the one reamed out for someone else’s unacceptable behavior. “I have other clients with bigger platforms. I should be able to find someone more… appropriate to promote your brand. Would that be agreeable to you?”

  “How much bigger?” Tamra’s voice had turned speculative.

  “Kyle Keenan.” Even as his name left her lips, Deanna winced. She hated to volunteer him without talking to him first, but desperate times. Kyle was the only big client on her roster who didn’t habitually do stupid shit. He was happily in love and floating on cloud nine. He’d do her a solid. Probably.

  “Oh, that would be fantastic!”

  “Let me make a few calls and see what I can do. I assure you, this will not happen again.”

  “Keep us updated.” Tamra hung up without saying goodbye.

  “Okay then.” Shaking her head, Deanna immediately sent Kyle a text explaining the situation. She needed to get this dealt with so she could get back to helping Wyatt with the rewiring. Ripping out approximately eighty years of electrical technology was the big project for the week that needed to be completed before they could push forward with anything else.

  When Kyle’s answer of Happy to came back, she breathed a sigh of relief. Eric Haywood would still need taking t
o task, but this solution would satisfy the Tamra’s people. Probably.

  She was still congratulating herself on a bullet dodged when a knock sounded on the door. Were they expecting another delivery of supplies? Had Wyatt called for more volunteers? Maybe it was the electrician who’d be putting in the new breaker box. She hadn’t thought he was coming before next week.

  Shoving her phone into the back pocket of her shorts, she opened the door… and froze. “Mom! Dad!”

  For the briefest moment, she wondered if she slammed the door and hid, would they forget they’d seen her? Which was ridiculous. They were here, and her questionable grace period was up. Time to face the music.

  Her hand clenched on the knob because she knew. She knew how this conversation was going to go, and she dreaded it. It was why she hadn’t told them about any of this. Pulling up her metaphorical big girl panties, she fixed her face into what she hoped resembled a pleasant smile. “What are y’all doing here?”

  “Perhaps a better question is why you up and moved without feeling the need to tell us.” The censure in her mother’s tone had Deanna’s shoulders inching toward her ears.

  How the hell had they found out? More, how had they actually found her out here?

  “I had an opportunity, and I jumped at it. As it happened rather quickly, I haven’t had a chance to update you.” And I didn’t want to.

  Without waiting for an invitation, they shoved inside. She couldn’t keep them out without shutting the door in their faces, so she stepped back, conscious of what they were walking into.

  “Oh, Deanna. How could you do something like this?” Her mother’s face twisted in shock and disappointment as she took in the walls that had been stripped of wallpaper and the periodic holes in the plaster and lath that they’d made to deal with the wiring. “How could you throw your money away on this money pit? You know you should be putting your time into your job and securing your future.”

  What? Because her job was so tenuous? She fucking rocked at what she did, however thankless it was. There’d been talk of making her a partner in the firm in another year or so.

  Her father took in the stack of reclaimed lumber waiting to have nails removed in the room opposite the front parlor and added his voice to the pile on. “Honey, you can’t afford to be wasting frivolous energy and effort on a flight of fancy.”

  Hell would freeze over before she admitted to either of them that she’d drunkenly bought this house in an auction. But she’d committed to following through, so she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I’m a grown adult. I get that this is something y’all don’t understand, but it’s going to be an excellent investment.”

  Her father heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Deanna, this kind of thing is reckless. It’s hard work. With a house this old, there will always, always be problems that show up, and you don’t have the money to sink into buying a house, let alone the cost of the materials and labor for renovations.”

  He had no idea exactly how true that was, and he’d have a coronary if he knew the arrangement she’d agreed to in order to get things taken care of.

  “It’s hard work,” her mom added. “The kind of work you have to have professionals for.”

  Right. Because they couldn’t imagine her capable of anything more than painting a wall. Resentment rose up to choke her, even as the weight of their criticism and concerns strained the fragile hope she’d built that everything would be alright.

  “She has a professional.”

  At the sound of Wyatt’s voice, Deanna closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she could sink through the floor. Heat crawled up her neck that he’d overheard any of this dressing down, even as she was grateful for the interruption.

  “Who are you?” Suspicion dripped from her father’s voice.

  “Wyatt Sullivan. Deanna’s contractor. And you would be?” He ranged himself beside her, his posture deceptively easy, but his jaw was granite beneath the unshaven scruff. He edged forward, as if he could shield her from their criticisms.

  For a moment, she wanted to hide behind him, let him take the brunt of this onslaught. She was so taken aback by the urge, it took her a moment to remember to make introductions. “These are my parents. Phillip and Valerie James.”

  Wyatt nodded. “Ah, well, it’s commendable you’d be concerned about your daughter’s wellbeing, but let me assure you, she’s uncovered a jewel here. It looks rough now, but the house is structurally sound and has so much potential.”

  Phillip frowned. “Potential or not, it’s expensive.”

  “Not as bad as you might imagine. We’re salvaging and reusing as much material as possible. And Deanna is doing a lot of the work herself.”

  Valerie pressed a hand to her chest. “But surely that isn’t that much. She can’t have that much time if she’s doing her job properly.”

  Right. Because they thought she was an imbecile who couldn’t do anything right or manage her own life.

  “She’s working exceptionally hard. Why don’t we give you a tour?”

  A tour? No. She wanted them gone.

  But Wyatt was already leading them toward the back of the house, where they’d opened up walls and re-cased openings.

  Needing a minute, Deanna didn’t follow, but she could hear Wyatt explaining what they’d done, what they’d planned. Could hear, too, her parents as they asked questions, their voices less accusatory with him.

  Of course, they’d be more accepting of all this from him. He was a man and a professional. Naturally, they’d give more weight to his opinion. Resentment bubbled up, hot and toxic. Not at Wyatt. God knew she appreciated the assist. But at her parents for being like this.

  She’d made one monumental mistake in marrying Blake, and because of it, they thought she was foolish and incapable in everything. In the wake of her divorce, they’d turned to treating her as if she were still a foolish teenager. As if it were her fault that she’d gotten screwed in the settlement. As if the only answer was to spend the rest of her life living small and never taking risks.

  She didn’t want that. She’d never wanted that. But just being around them made her doubt herself and her ability to carry out this lunatic plan.

  “—going to be gorgeous when we’re through.” Wyatt led her parents back to the foyer. He didn’t make any move to show them the upstairs.

  For the best. No way in hell would they respond well to the fact that he was living here with her.

  “Well, I, for one, feel better that someone qualified is overseeing the project,” Valerie said.

  Phillip nodded. “Our girl has a tendency to leap without thinking.”

  Deanna squeezed her phone so tight, she wondered the screen didn’t crack. Not trusting herself to speak, she just held back as Wyatt deftly reassured them both and nudged them toward the door.

  Her mother stopped, wrapping her in a hug. “I wish you’d told us. I hope everything turns out… okay.”

  She had so little confidence in Deanna that she couldn’t even hope it turned out well? Demoralized, depressed, Deanna could only lift one arm in a mechanical squeeze as they said their goodbyes and finally, blessedly, walked out the door.

  The temper snapping in Wyatt’s blood made it hard to shut the door instead of slamming it. Watching Deanna’s parents dismiss and infantilize her was bad enough, but seeing how that so clearly hurt her, how they diminished her in almost every way with their well-intentioned and wholly misplaced concerns hit way too close to home and had rage bubbling up, ready to spew. He knew exactly what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that brand of parenting.

  He wanted to hit something. And turning back, seeing her slumped shoulders and downcast gaze, he wanted to hold her. None of that was appropriate, but he couldn’t just go back to work when she looked so damned… defeated.

  Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the door with a far more casual attitude than he felt. “I’m the youngest in my family. My parents adopted me when I was twelve. They already had
one son who was theirs by blood. Scott was sixteen, and our parents adored him. He was the golden boy, who could do no wrong. That could’ve made him an asshole, but it didn’t, and I kinda worshipped him, too.”

  Deanna was watching him now, her expression guarded.

  “Anyway, my parents are high achieving people. College professors. They have astronomical expectations. Scott met them as easy as breathing. I… did not. Everything about school was a struggle. Just graduating high school felt like scaling a mountain. With Scott’s help, I did more than just scrape by. But Sullivans are high achievers, right? So college was expected.” He flashed a humorless smile as he thought about the hell that came along with that.

  “I lasted a year before I couldn’t take it anymore. My parents were pissed. Asked what the hell I was going to do with my life without an education. They never asked why I quit or what I wanted. That never mattered to them. I was just the disappointment. The family fuck up. My girlfriend at the time piled on, too. Saying I would never amount to anything as a college dropout. My brother is the only one who never made me feel that way.”

  Straightening from the door, he took a step toward her. “All that to say, I get it. I get what it is to be judged by standards that don’t fit you. To be seen through a lens that warps everything you are and everything you do into something wrong. To feel shame and doubt for not meeting expectations you don’t even want.”

  Those hazel eyes were riveted to his now, and he couldn’t stop himself from moving closer, wanting so much to touch her. “They’re entitled to their opinions. That doesn’t make them right.”

  She swallowed. “They aren’t entirely wrong, either. I drunk bought a house. That kind of impulsiveness is seriously problematic.”

  “There’s a big difference between making a drunk mistake on something you didn’t even want, and the alcohol lowering your inhibitions enough to do the thing you’ve been admittedly thinking and dreaming about for years. The way I see it, the drunk just got the fear out of your way.”