But now, I was anything but cool. "Come on," I said. "You're just messing with me, right?"
"No." Mason glanced at his watch. "So just spit it out. What's the problem?"
It was nearly five o'clock in the afternoon, and my problems were piling up – building supplies delivered to the wrong property, a busted machine on the factory floor, and a landscaping emergency at some unspecified address.
Yeah. "A landscaping emergency."That's what Waverly had called it.
The wayIsaw it, there was no such thing. Unless the bushes had come alive and were eating neighborhood children, I figured that was a problem for the back burner.
And yet, it wouldn't go away.
Waverly – the new producer of our TV show – had been texting me for over an hour now. She'd been short on details, but long on drama, along with a few sexual innuendos that I was choosing to ignore.
Tomorrow, she'd be arriving here in Bayside to begin filming at the house on Lakeview – which meant that I had only one day to square things away with Arden.
Arden might be a pain in the ass, but she was smart. Once the film crew arrived, it wouldn’t take her long to put two and two together and realize that the house had been safe all along.
I frowned as I recalled last night's scene in the hallway. The situation had gotten way out of hand.
Her fault.
And mine.
She'd been crazy. And I'd been an asshole.But now, come to find out, I'd been missing a big piece of the puzzle – the piece I'd just gotten from my brother.
Turns out, my latest acquisition – the house on Lakeview Drive – had been in Arden's family for generations. And the latest family member to own it – some guy named Jason Smithers – hadn't been so eager to give it up.
That name –Jason– rang a familiar bell, and I wasn't happy to hear it. My frown deepened as I recalled all of those text messages on Arden's cell phone.
Jason – he was no boyfriend.And no hookup either.
Apparently, the guy was Arden's cousin – a low-level administrator at the nearby community college. He'd owned the house for three years now. And in spite of his early reluctance to sell, he'd come around soon enough, thanks to some creative pressure applied where it counted.
I'd learned all of this just today, courtesy of Mason, who handled the business side of things.
I considered his question."What's the problem?"
Shit. Where to begin?
I said, "So youknewthat her family owned it?"
"Sure, I knew," he said. "Why do you think I bought the place?"
I gave him a look. "Ibought it, not you."
"Yeah. AndIdid the deal." He gave me a tight smile. "So you're welcome."
I'd already thanked him once, and I wasn't about to do it again. He'dwantedto handle it.And me?I'd wanted it handled while I kept the construction side of things running on schedule.
He did his thing. And I did mine.Until now, it hadn't been a problem.
But this? It was a problem – one I hadn't seen coming.
A few weeks ago, I'd spotted the house while scouting a different property on a neighboring street.Thatproperty had been a dud.
But the house on Lakeview had it all – good bones, a killer location, and plenty of room for improvement. It would be great for the show, and even better for the city. And the neighbors? Hell, they'd be sending us thank-you cards by the time it was done.
The place was a mess, inside and out. As bad as it was, it was a miracle it hadn't been condemned.