Somebody to Love by Kristan Higgins Page B

near the ceiling, but the entire hallway was cleared. She went down to the kitchen. “My God! You did all this?”
    “Yeah,” he answered.
    “You… Wow. This is amazing.”
    The kitchen was much improved. There were still plastic boxes of who-knew-what, but the trash and cardboard and newspapers were gone. And it smelled much better, thanks to the salt air blowing through the windows.
    She glanced out the window at the Dumpster that now graced the side of the house. It was already about a quarter full. “That’s a lot of crap,” she murmured.
    “I kept some things I thought you might want. Over there on the table.”
    She glanced over, then did a double take at the glass case on the floor by the wall. “Is that Apollo?”
    James shrugged. “Think of him as mouse control. I already gave him one.”
    “Really?”
    “That’s what he eats.”
    “Well, we can’t keep him in the kitchen. He gives me the willies.”
    “Yes, Majesty. He can stay in my room.”
    Whoops. She did sound a little imperial there. “That would be great. Thank you.”
    “Here’s the deal,” James said. “The fridge works, but it needs to be scoured. It’s not the most efficient thing in the world, but it’ll keep things cold. The oven is shot and I think your mouse and all his friends live in there, so we should ditch it. My uncle knows a used one you can buy pretty cheap. The cupboards are bolted on, so if we tear them off, it’ll rip out chunks of the walls. The best bet is probably to clean and paint them. You’ll need a new subfloor and linoleum or tile in here, but the floors in the rest of the house are wood. Clean them up, slap on some polyurethane and you have character. New roof, new shingles, cut down some of the scrub around the house, fix the stairs to the dock and the real-estate agent says you might be able to pay off the back taxes and get a little besides.”
    “Back taxes? And how much is a little?”
    “Depends on the offer you get.”
    Crikey. She didn’t really want to hear the actual figure. “Think I’ll have enough left over to buy a house in Rhode Island?”
    “Not even close.”
    A strand of panic laced through her. Parker took a deep breath. And another. Looked at Apollo, who stared back impassively.
    You can only do what you can do, the Holy Rollers chimed. True enough.
    She looked around the kitchen, which still had yards and yards of crap in it, then back at Thing One, who was looking at her, arms folded, face unreadable.
    “Thank you, James,” she said.
    His expression softened. “You’re welcome.”
    His eyes were dark, dark brown. Best not to look for too long. She cleared her throat. “I guess I’ll get to work on my room.”
    “You do that.”
    She went down the hall, opened the door and got another shock.
    The room was completely empty. All that stuff…the clothes and boxes and lamps and macramé and Christmas ornaments…was gone. The room was bigger than it had appeared when crammed with junk; the windows were open and somewhat battered screens were in the windows. It smelled clean. It was clean.
    “Your bed is being delivered later on.” His voice made her jump. He’d followed her down the hall.
    “What bed?”
    He shrugged. “I figured you were too much of a princess to sleep on the floor, so I ordered you a bed. Nothing special. Just a frame and a box spring and mattress.”
    “James…” Her cheeks burned, and she swallowed.
    He smiled. Oh, that was dangerous.
    Parker did not find Thing One particularly appealing, though she could recognize that he was attractive. He just didn’t do anything for her. No, those sulky good looks and arrogant bone structure…yawn. He looked like a Gucci model or a bored playboy. Not her type. Not at all.
    Until he smiled. He had a wide, generous smile, almost too wide if there was such a thing, and his eyes crinkled far more than a young man’s should, and heck yeah, she felt it in Lady Land, uh- huh.
    And given that they were apparently