Evenings at the Argentine Club by Julia Amante Page B

I wasn’t hinting at anything. I’m just saying that… I’m not going to move in with you.”
    He shrugged easily. “I always live in the houses I flip. Mostly because I have nowhere else to live. But also because it makes
     me finish faster and I start to get a feel of what the house needs.”
    “I’ve lived with my parents for twenty-eight years and you think I can move out just like that.” Victoria snapped her fingers
     in the air.
    “That’s the way you do it. Swift and terrible. You’ll feel like a new woman.” He grabbed the bag of doughnuts, crumpled it
     up, and tossed it in the trash. “Good willpower,” he said.
    “That killed me. You can’t eat those kinds of things in front of me again.”
    He nodded. “I’m all for getting healthy. But you know you look pretty damn cute the way you are, don’t you?”
    “I look fat. And I don’t want to be cute. Carmen was always the smart one. I was always the cute one. I want guys to look
     at me and say, ‘Man, she’s hot.’ ”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Hot?”
    “Think I can pull it off?”
    He stood and cleared his throat. “Sure.” His eyes were bright with amusement. “Absolutely. Want to go see the house?”
    Victoria figured she didn’t have anything to lose. “Why not?”
    Eric walked her though the front yard, which was littered with trash and overgrown weeds. “First thing I’m going to do as
     soon as we close escrow next week is get a Dumpster and start cleaning up. Then we can begin demo.”
    Victoria carefully made her way through the junk. Inside, he pointed out the changes he wanted to make, taking her room by
     room. “I’m going to completely gut the kitchen,” he said.
    The place smelled like cats and urine. Damn. He wondered if a family of cats might be spending their nights in the house.
     Victoria wrinkled her nose but didn’t comment on the smell as she examined the kitchen. “You definitely need new cabinets
     and flooring. And I’d put in an extra window or maybe a skylight.”
    He nodded. “Exactly. That’s where you come in. I’d like you to choose the cabinets. The flooring. Come up with the color scheme.
     Suggestions on lighting. Then at the end, help me stage it so it looks good enough to sell.”
    She walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, looking around at all the work that had to be done. “And if I do this,
     I get paid when?”
    “When we sell it.”
    “What if you don’t sell it?”
    “Of course I’ll sell it. I should make about a hundred and fifty thousand if the market doesn’t tank on me. I’ll give you
     five percent.”
    She raised an eyebrow. “How about fifteen?”
    He laughed. And here he thought she’d be impressed with five. “Ten.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “This seems very risky. How do you live like this? You might make way less than what you project.”
    “True. When I started, I had quite a few flips that ended up making me peanuts. But I’ve learned. I got this house at a good
     price. I know exactly what to put into it to turn it around at a good profit.” He walked up beside her, and placed a hand
     on her shoulder. “What do you say? Are you in?”
    She gazed at him, then tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Her pulse skipped like crazy. “Oh God, Eric, what am I doing?
     I should go back and apologize to my father. He needs me now that he’s starting this major business expansion.” She raised
     her head and looked him in the eye. “He’s worked his whole life to pass his business on to me and my sister. Carmen doesn’t
     want it.”
    “And you do?”
    “No, but how can I walk away from him? And for what? To help you flip houses?—No offense.”
    “Vicki, this has nothing to do with me. I just happen to know you enjoy being creative, and you have a talent for decorating.
     And I need someone to be my interior designer.” He lowered his arm and stepped in front of her. “I do understand your loyalty
     to your father, but in the end,