Chapter 3
John crossed his arms. This woman drove him nuts. He hadn’t known the lady more than twenty minutes, but that was twenty minutes too long. Lesley DeLoach was crazy to be romanticizing a home that had absolutely nothing romantic about it. As a contractor—and as broke as he was—it was in his best interest to agree with her, take on the job…but even he knew when to call a spade a spade. This house was a goner. Her aunt had seemed a little cuckoo; maybe the trait ran in the family.
Besides, he could read her like a book. Just like those other city slickers, this big town, northern hippy probably thought she could come in, boss people around, and insult Bakersville and its small-town ways. He wanted nothing to do with that.
No thank you.
But if his ears weren’t deceiving him, he could swear he heard a bit of a southern drawl mixed in with that Yankee talk.
