Changeling by Kelly Meding Read Free Book Online

you?” he asked. His voice had a rough quality, like sandpaper.
    I licked my lips, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. “Yes,” I said. “I, um, need lights.” I could have slapped myself. Obvious and stupid.
    His smile broadened, baring bright white but somewhat crooked teeth. Some small amount of recognition had crept into his eyes—it could have as easily been knowing me as Ember as remembering me as Dahlia from school.
    “You’re in luck, because that’s all we sell here,” he said.
    I laughed, feeling like an idiot, and walked confidently up to his counter and squared my shoulders. His eyes dropped briefly to my chest, and I had the sudden, irrational urge to flee this shop and never look back.
    “What kind of lighting do you need?” he asked.
    “All kinds. We’re, um, remodeling an older home and a lot of the ceiling fixtures need to be replaced. That’s our biggest need right now. And installation. Ethan’s not so good at it.”
    “Your boyfriend?”
    “My what?”
    “You said Ethan isn’t good at installation. Is he your boyfriend?”
    Laughter bubbled in my chest, but I tamped it down. Maybe-Noah was much more Ethan’s type than I was. “No, he’s not my boyfriend. One of my roommates. A bunch of us are fixing up the house together.”
    He walked around the counter and stopped an arm’s length away. I liked that we were the same height; I didn’t have to strain my neck to stay under his intense gaze. His eyes roamed all over. Most days, I would have walked off in a huff after being openly appraised like that. With this maybe-not-a-stranger, I rather enjoyed the attention. Even living with five other people, I was often lonely.
    “Do you see anything you like?” he asked.
    “Oh, yeah.” His eyebrows shot up, and I realized what I just said. “I mean, I haven’t really looked at your lights.” Eyebrows higher. “What you have to offer, I mean.” Lordy, there was nothing coming out of my mouth that didn’t sound like innuendo. Teresa would kill me if I screwed this up.
    “How about some track lighting?” he asked, indicating the wall behind me. “Brightens up a room pretty quick, and you can set it on a dimmer switch. How many rooms?”
    “Quite a few.” Good, simple answer to a simple question. I was back on track to having an intelligent conversation. “We don’t need all of them done at once, but there are half a dozen rooms downstairs, and at least six on the second floor.”
    “The house sounds huge.”
    “It’s in Beverly Hills.”
    His lips parted in surprise. “Wow, that’s an interesting neighborhood to pick. Few people can afford those houses.”
    Dollar signs danced between us, taunting. It was a social barrier that I’d never dealt with, growing up—at least, not from the rich side of the line. I never wanted money from my father, and I ignored my trust fund when I turned eighteen. Mom’s insurance paid most of her medical bills. Everything Ihad, I earned on my own. I was no different than this man in front of me, self-made and struggling to be independent. But the squint in his eyes, the harder line of his mouth, indicated he didn’t know that. He just knew I had money. Money he could make.
    “It’s a group effort,” I said. I wanted him to understand and didn’t know why. “We needed a big place with good security. A bungalow in Inglewood wasn’t going to do it for us.”
    “So you’re looking for at least a dozen fixtures,” he said, as though I hadn’t spoken. “Plus installation and any necessary rewiring. Some of those old places can have exposed wires that cause shorts. Fires. You should definitely have a thorough inspection.”
    I bristled. Yeah, he was milking those dollar signs. Ass. “Do you provide those services?”
    “As a matter of fact, we do. Why don’t—” Footsteps thumped down the back stairs, cutting off his train of thought. We both turned toward the sound.
    A girl appeared behind the counter, maybe eighteen or