Love Redesigned (Lakefront Billionaires #1) by Lauren Asher

I can’t. At least not when I feel like this.

Mírame: Look at me.



“I’ll meet you back at the truck.”

“If you want the ring, I’ll pull it out.” He speaks to my back.

I shake my head hard enough to rattle my already-scattered brain. “No.” Tears pool near the bottoms of my eyes, about one second away from falling.

You better not cry in front of Julian, so pull yourself together and get the hell out of here.

“Come find me when it’s finished.” I fight the impulse to curl into myself as I accept that part of my life is over.

“Okay.”

My lungs deflate from my heavy exhale as I turn. Every step away from the mixer feels like a small victory, and I’m proud of myself for making it to the truck without shedding a single tear, although the widening hole in my chest threatens to consume me.

But unlike before, I fight back. I don’t want to cry anymore over a man who discarded me like trash.

I refuse to.

Starting now.





CHAPTER SEVEN


Dahlia


A flash of something red and white catches my eye. “Stop the truck!”

He slams on the brakes, and we both go shooting forward. I groan as the seat belt locks into place and crushes my chest.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes dart across my face.

I press a hand against my chest. “Besides the fact that you nearly gave me a heart attack?”

“You asked me to stop.”

“Not like that!”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Give me a second.” I unbuckle my seat belt.

“Where are you going? It’s pitch-black outside.”

“I want to see something.” I climb out of the truck and walk back to the spot that caught my attention.

The For Sale sign posted in front of the gate feels illegal, and I’m tempted to steal it to prevent someone else from making an offer on the house of my dreams.

Lampposts lining the driveway illuminate the Queen Anne-style mansion sitting at the top of the small hill. Despite the warped wood and lack of upkeep, the house that once belonged to one of our town’s founders is beautiful with its elegant craftsmanship, unrivaled view of the lake, and historic connection to the town.

Not just any Founder’s house, but the one I dreamed of renovating one day. Ever since I was a little kid, I used to say that if I had three wishes, one of them would be to own this particular blue house.

Now you have the money and opportunity to make it happen.

The sudden rush of excitement sends my head spinning, making me feel drunk on the idea of restoring a house like this.

I’d be foolish not to take advantage of this rare opportunity. I’ve been obsessed with the Founders’ houses long before I pursued a career in interior design. Their backstory, aesthetics, and view of Lake Wisteria and the forest beyond made them easy to fall in love with and impossible to forget.

A house isn’t going to save you from your depression. The voice of reason speaks out.

No, but my therapist said I should engage in activities that make me happy, and this house would be a good start.

“Is this for real?” I flick the sign to be sure.

“Seems like it.” Julian stops beside me and pulls out his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to know how much they’re asking for it.”

“No!” I steal his phone.

“You can’t stop me from being curious.”

“You’re not allowed to touch this one.” The five original Founders’ houses rarely go up for sale, so no way in hell am I letting Julian buy it.

“Is your name on the deed?”

“Not yet.” I’ll be damned if I let this project slip away from me. It’s the exact kind of house that could help spark my creativity again while pushing me to take the necessary steps my therapist has been recommending for months.

Julian pries his phone out of my crushing grip. “Then it’s fair game.”

“Fair game? How is that possible when you’re our local Monopoly Man?”

“I’m flattered by the rare compliment.” His dry voice doesn’t match the words.

“Ugh. Lo juro por Dios—”

He taps at his screen before placing it against his ear. “Sam. Hey. Sorry about the late call, but this is important. First thing tomorrow morning, I need you to contact a seller—”

I snatch his phone back and take off in the opposite direction. “Hi, Sam. It’s Dahlia Muñoz. How are you?”

“I—uh—I’m sorry, did you say Dahlia Muñoz?” A male voice wheezes toward the end of his question.

“Yes.”

Lo juro por Dios: I swear to God.



“As in Dahlia Muñoz, founder of Designs by Dahlia?”

“That’s me.”

“Holy shit,” Sam whispers to himself.

I stick my tongue out at Julian while hitting the speaker button.

“I’m your biggest fan!” Sam shouts. “Wait. What are you doing with Julian?”

“Sadly, we know each other.”

Julian shoots daggers at me.

“I can’t believe Julian never said anything. He knows how obsessed I am with your…everything!”