Love Redesigned (Lakefront Billionaires #1) by Lauren Asher

My eyes widen. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. His mother begged for the town to demolish the house so her son could move back, but obviously that didn’t happen.”

Julian’s eyes shine brighter than a neon warning sign. “Perhaps we should make the town happy and tear it down.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.” My molars grind together.

“Maybe I can be convinced after all.”

Asshole. I stomp on his foot. At the speed of a viper, his hand wraps around my thigh and squeezes hard enough to have me choking on my breath.

“Are you okay?” Mom asks.

“Yup. Got a piece of steak in my throat.”

“Here.” Julian’s hand abandons my thigh before shoving my glass of water toward my good hand.

I take a slow sip while staring him down. Once I’m done, I trace my bottom lip with the tip of my tongue to wipe away any remaining droplets.

He breaks eye contact, although the way he thickly swallows gives him away.

Men.

Lily’s eyes ping-pong between us before landing on me. “You can ask anyone in town about the house, and they’ll all have a different story to tell.”

I turn to face the nonbeliever. “Do you think it’s Gerald?”

“No. It’s probably old plumbing, outdated electrical wiring, and materials rubbing together at night while the house cools.”

Lily’s eyes roll. “Of course you’d say that.”

“Either way, I’ve dealt with a haunted property or two in San Francisco, so I’m not afraid of a few ghosts,” I say.

She laughs. “What are you going to do? Hire a priest or something?”

“Or something.”

Julian peeks over at me through his thick lashes. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing you need to worry yourself with.” Yet.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Dahlia


After one lengthy game of Monopoly that ended before a winner could be crowned, Rafa and Nico say goodbye. Josefina and Julian follow their lead five minutes later, so I decide to head out with them and ask Josefina to drop me off at the library.

“Where are you going?” my mom asks as I’m struggling to put on my sneakers.

“I want to stop by the library before they close.”

Mom fidgets with her gold cross necklace. “Do you need to go now? It’s going to get dark soon.”

“It’s five p.m.,” I grunt as I attempt to slide on my sneaker and fail. Julian, in the ultimate fake display of gentlemanly behavior, gets down on one knee to help me.

Mom aws while Josefina has the biggest set of heart eyes. Neither of them can see the way he obnoxiously smirks at me.

Julian has been pulling these stunts since we were teens, with both of our moms doting on him like a prince carrying a glass slipper.

The only princely thing about him is that he is a royal pain in my ass.

He carefully helps me into my sneaker before tying the laces. The slightest graze of his fingers over my ankle sends goose bumps scattering across my skin, earning a deep frown from me.

“Thanks.” The word comes out rushed as he rises to his feet.

I ignore my racing pulse and turn toward Josefina. “Do you mind dropping me off at the library on your way home?”

She frowns. “I would love to, but I have to drive out to the Smiths’ farm to check on a few things for the festival.”

“No worries.”

Her whole face lights up. “But Julian can drive you into town instead.”

“Thanks, but I think I’d rather walk. It’ll be nice to get some fresh air after spending the day inside.” I pull Josefina in for a one-armed hug.

Josefina waves me away. “Nonsense. The library is on Julian’s way home.”

“Hell is already a long enough drive as it is. No need to add another stop along the way.”

Julian chuffs while my mom’s eyes narrow.

“Dahlia,” she chides in that hair-raising voice of hers.

“I’m trying to be polite.”

“I’m not sure you know the meaning of the word,” Julian grumbles under his breath for only me to hear.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that.” I lay it on thick, going as far as batting my lashes.

He frowns.

“Julian doesn’t mind doing me that little favor. Right, mijo?” Josefina reaches out to give his bicep a squeeze.

“Anything for you, Ma.” Julian kisses the top of his mother’s head and my mom’s cheek before looking over at me. “I’ll be in the truck.”

Mom waits until Julian shuts the door to speak. “Will you two ever get along?”

“Rosa,” Josefina warns.

“What? I thought they would grow out of this…”

“Animosity?” I throw it out there.

“Immaturity,” my mom finishes.

Ouch. “We can be mature.”

Both her and Josefina’s eyebrows rise.

“When we want to be,” I tack on.

They share a look.

“Whatever. He’s the one who usually starts it.”

Josefina’s eyes lighten. “Nico uses the same logic.”

Being described as immature is one thing, but to be compared to an eight-year-old kid?