The Flip by Michael Phillip Cash Read Free Book Online Page A

The border hung half off. Brad pounded it with his fist until the tacky glue stuck.
    Julie sighed. “I hate this place.”
    Brad pushed the lid down on the coffeemaker, touched the button, and watched as his mug filled. “It’s a lot nicer than what I lived in as a kid.”
    “We could just do the counter. I’m not suggesting new cabinets.”
    Brad shook his head. “I don’t want to stay here forever. It’s just a stopover.”
    She contemplated the golden oak cabinets, the warped doors—the wood was so faded by time, the old varnish had turned them orange. He didn’t care about his surroundings, but she did. Julie loved to live among elegant and stylish things. While she appreciated that Brad hadpolished the wooden floors, she longed to rip out the fixtures and make an up-to-date metro galley kitchen.
    “We don’t have to make double payments on the mortgage,” Julie appealed to him. “We could slow it down and make this place more habitable.”
    “Someone’s got to decide which shithole gets first dibs. Hold on, Julie. Don’t get angry. I didn’t pick the Hemmings house.” Brad slid off the counter to approach his wife. “I would have taken a rest after the Cape and put in some time here, but you wanted that run-down pile of crap.” He shivered.
    “What?” She walked into his embrace,feeling his tremors.
    “I don’t like that house.”
    “It was a good buy. We could flip this one for less money and live there for a bit. Think about it. We could make an income renting out the rooms. There must be fifteen bedrooms there. That way, we could fix it slowly.”
    “There’re twelve. If you’re complaining about the kitchen here, the one at the Hemmings house is prehistoric. Nah.” He tipped her face up to meet his, kissing the tip of her upturned nose. “Willy’s going to be here next week. I’m pushing to get it done. Just forget about that wreck. Once we sell it, we can spackle this one a bit, put it up for sale, and move to the next one.”
    Brad kissed the light skin at the base of Julie’s neck where her pulse thrummed, smiling at the purr coming from his wife’s throat.
    “You are doing that on purpose to distract me.”
    “Guilty.” He kissed her fully on the lips.
    “You’re going to make me late for work again.”
    “Guilty again.”
    Julie slid her hands under his shirt, feeling the smooth flesh, the ripples of sculpted muscle wrapped around his lean flanks. He pinned her against the rickety table, her legs anchoring him. Leaning over her, he slid his palm between her legs, touching her in such a way that thecondition of the countertop quickly became a distant memory.
    An hour later, they found themselves back in the kitchen, satisfied smiles shared between them.
    She rubbed at an old brown cigarette burn in the countertop made by some long-ago resident.
    “You’re going to rip it,” Brad warned.
    “Maybe it would look better.”
    “Don’t start that now, Julie.” Brad shook his head. “Let’s finish Hemmings first.”
    Julie considered the ancient blackened burn. “Do you think a house holds the energy of its inhabitants?”
    “That’s weird; where’s it coming from?”
    Julie pointed to the burn. “Someone did this, marked the house. Does it sort of make it his?”
    “The woman who made that burn is living in the Del Boca Vista retirement community in Tampa. She has about as much connection to this house as the lawyer who handled the closing.”
    Julie swallowed. “Listen, think about it. She made a mark here; does it make it hers? Does a part of her stay here forever, like a footprint or a fingerprint?”
    “You’re a nut, Jules. I’ve got to go.”

Chapter 6
    “Well, was it good?” Heather asked Julie over the phone.
    “It’s always good. It just hasn’t been frequent enough.”
    “Welcome to married life,” her sister complained. “Wait till you have kids. You’ll have to live on memories.”
    Julie laughed so hard, it echoed back into the