CHAPTER 115: WENDY’S MIND (1)

Nick’s POV

"Let me help you unpack your suitcase, since Wendy’s still busy with the dishes," I offered, watching Georgia sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Katie, coloring.

She lifted her head, brow arched, lips curving in that way that always made my blood stir. "Are you sure? There’s no need. I can manage."

"I want to," I said firmly. "It’s still early, and this house is massive for the two of you to clean. The less you have to worry about, the better."

She laughed—soft, musical, teasing. And I had no damn idea what was so funny.

"Why are you laughing?" I asked.

Her eyes gleamed with mischief. "Are you planning to stay here tonight?"

The thought hadn’t crossed my mind until she said it. Now it lit me up like fire.

"Well..." I leaned back with a smirk. "If you insist, I’ve got my things in the car. I wouldn’t mind staying. I accept your offer."

That was so shameless of me. But I don’t mind being shameless if it’s for her.

Her jaw dropped, color rushing to her cheeks. "What?!" she blurted, half shocked, half amused, and entirely too tempting. She could deny it all she wanted, but her eyes gave her away—she wanted me here.

"I didn’t—" she started, but Wendy’s voice cut through the moment as she strode in like a general on the battlefield.

"You should stay," Wendy declared. "We need a man around here—for safety, and for heavy lifting. Are you handy?"

I straightened, pride sparking through me. "I’m a sailor. Of course I’m handy."

"Good. There’s a leak under the sink. Fix it." She didn’t ask—she commanded, like she owned me.

And maybe for a second, she did. But I didn’t mind. Hell, I liked it. It was the perfect chance to prove to Georgia I wasn’t just some spoiled rich kid who only knew how to fuck women. I could take care of things. Take care of her.

I stood, giving Georgia a wicked grin. "I’ll be right back. Gotta follow the madam’s orders, or she’ll kick me out before I’ve had the chance to spend time with you."

Georgia gasped, Katie giggled, and their laughter followed me down the hall like a promise.

I crouched under the sink, ran my hand along the pipe, and let out a low breath. "This isn’t just loose—it needs to be replaced. Do you have a spare?"

Wendy shook her head. "None. But while you’re at it, check the faucet in Georgia’s room. That one’s been dripping too."

Her room.

The words alone sent a ripple of heat down my spine. I nodded, wiping my hands, and followed Wendy down the hallway.

When she pushed the door open, my chest tightened. I’d imagined her room countless times—soft pinks, maybe lavender, something girly and sweet that matched the way she pretended to brush me off. But reality hit me harder than I expected.

It wasn’t what I had pictured at all.

White walls kissed with earthy browns, touches of green that pulled life into every corner, and darker shades draped across her sheets, grounding it all in something bold, sensual, intimate. Her room didn’t whisper. It breathed. It pulsed. It screamed her.

I stepped in, drawn to it like I was trespassing into her soul.

Behind me, Wendy chuckled softly, and I realized too late that she’d been watching me devour the room with my eyes.

"Surprised?" she asked knowingly.

I scratched the back of my neck, caught but unashamed, and nodded.

"She’s not into girly things," Wendy explained, her gaze wandering around the room with affection. "Plants and flowers are her weakness, though. Speaking of which, you’ll help me bring all the pots back inside.

Georgia set up a whole system in the garden—timers, watering, the works. Honestly, I think she’d make a better farmer than running that company."

Her words made me smirk, but they also pulled me deeper into this pull I had for Georgia. Because every piece of her—this room, that garden, the way she built things quietly and carefully—was nothing like I expected. And everything I wanted.

By the time I finished checking everything Wendy had pointed out, I finally understood why she wanted me here. The house wasn’t just messy—it was a battlefield.

Four bulbs burned out, pipes leaking, faucets dripping in three bathrooms, a broken doorknob in the basement, a busted hinge in the cabinet, and even a damn flat tire waiting to be changed.

It was overwhelming, sure, but I wasn’t about to complain. If Wendy thought the work would keep me too tired to think about Georgia tonight, she was dead wrong. Nothing could keep me away from her.

"Where’s the nearest hardware?" I asked, standing and wiping my hands. "I’ll pick up everything we need."

"I’ll come with you," Wendy replied quickly, grabbing her bag. "I need some cleaning supplies anyway."

We told Georgia we’d be gone for a bit, then slipped out and drove off. The ride was quiet at first, but I could feel there was more on Wendy’s mind than leaking faucets.

Halfway down the road, she finally spoke, her tone clipped but sharp with purpose.

"I heard from your sister and Ella what happened," she began. "This stays between us. I trust you’ll know how to use it. I didn’t tell Georgia because I didn’t want to burden her with something uncertain. But you..." she turned her eyes on me, fierce, unwavering, "...you have the power and the money to act."

Her next words sent a jolt through me.

"I believe Raymond and Nancy had a hand in David’s death. If not directly, then they were part of it."

No hesitation. No doubt in her voice. Just cold, cutting certainty.

And me? I wasn’t shocked—not entirely. Some dark part of me had always suspected it. But hearing it aloud forced the question I’d been burying.

If they killed David... did they also set me up?

Or... Was I just a drunken fool at the wrong place and wrong time—or the perfect scapegoat they had been waiting for?

*******

Thank you for the Golden Tickets!

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