Heart Improvement: A Brooklyn Heights Bachelor Romance

Chapter 9 - Chelsea

“So what do you think?”

I look at Scott. I was up late working on the designs. I got my second wind when I started thinking about the project.

I’m so nervous. What if he doesn’t like them? He looks down at the design boards and sweeps them off the table with one arm.

“I’ll tell you what I think.” His voice is low and husky. It makes me tremble. “I think I want you right now, on this table.” I gulp. “Well?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

I throw myself at him. He wraps his arms around me, and I kiss him. But when our lips touch, there is nothing there. I grab his shoulders. It’s like he’s made of smoke.

“Scott.”

I’m awake. Awake and alone. I’m totally tangled up in the sheets and very frustrated. I free myself from the cotton prison and fall back on my pillow. I should have known it was a dream. I did all my work on my laptop. I don’t have access to a regular printer, let alone one that can print blueprints.

“Ugh.”

I do not need this complication. Yes, Scott is gorgeous and super sweet. He’s exactly as I hoped he would be when I fantasized about him back in middle school. When I fell in love with the idea of him. Just my luck that I meet him and he’s everything I ever hoped he would be and—And!—I can’t have him.

“You can’t have him,” I tell my reflection when I go into the bathroom.

I list the reasons as I shower. One; he’s your neighbor slash landlord. So if things don’t work out, awkward. Two; you have to work with him on this design job. Not a good idea to um, play where you work. Three; the whole fake engagement thing is only fake. I really need to remember that.

I get dressed. Scott said the brownstone we were going to see was empty but to wear work clothes. My work clothes are all for waitressing, but I figured it’s the same deal. Dust or coffee, wash and wear is appropriate.

I pick up my phone and text him, glancing at the clock.

I’m up. Let me know what time you want to leave.

Half hour?

Sure.

I dry my hair and put on a little bit of makeup, telling myself it’s good practice for the cameras.

“Too much,” I say when I see the finished result in the mirror.

I quickly put my hair up into a ponytail to casual it up. This is not a date. Period.

He’s sitting on the stoop when I get outside.

“I got breakfast.” He holds up a bag. “Cinnamon raisin and cream cheese, right?” I nod. “And I grabbed you a coffee too.”

“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

He’s so sweet and thoughtful. He shrugs.

“We’re working, I can expense it.” Right, work. It was still thoughtful of him though.“I thought we’d drive today.”

He stands up and we start down the street.

“I thought you said driving was a….I thought you hated driving in the city.”

“Usually. But it’s early enough and the train doesn’t run as much on weekends.” He shakes his head. “No express, local only. Slow as…and I thought we’d go to the storage unit after. I can show you the stuff I have.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Flooring, tile, cabinets, you know.”

I stop walking. He continues on without me. It takes him a couple of seconds to realize I’ve stopped. He turns around and looks back at me, obviously confused. I walk towards him.

“If you already have that stuff, you don’t need a designer.”

“Oh.”

We walk the rest of the way to the garage in silence.

I can’t do this,I think over and over. It’s not even going to be my design. He doesn’t talk the rest of the way, just leads me into an underground garage and over to his truck. He opens the door for me. I hesitate.

“Aren’t you getting in?”

“I don’t know,” I say truthfully.

“Just get in and we’ll talk, okay? If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to.”

I get in and shut the door. He climbs in beside me, setting his coffee in the cupholder. I do the same. Despite myself, I’m pretty hungry and the bagel smell is getting to me.

“I wasn’t thinking, okay? I’m sorry.” He reaches into the bag. He unwraps a corner of one of the sandwiches, checks it and hands it to me. “Here.”

“I don’t know if I should have it. It’s a work expense, remember?”

“Aw, Chelsea, give me a break. I’ve been picking stuff up on overstock for this building for the past two years. I need help with the design. Everything I do is basic.”

“Basic?”

“Safe. Boring. Think white on white on…beige.”

“That does sound boring.”

I take a tentative bite of my bagel.

“Look, I know we can do this. We just need good communication. Which admittedly is not what I am the best at.”

“You’re not?”

“No. One of the reasons I love acting so much is the words are written for you. When I make them up myself, well, I tend to…get them wrong a lot.”

He takes a giant bite of his bagel. I sneak a sideways look at him. I guess admitting that was probably a big deal for him,

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll look at the stuff you have, but if it’s…”

“Boring, you can say it.”

“Boring, I will pick something else.”

“Great.” He starts the truck and puts his hand on the gear shift. “So, we are going?”

“Yes.”

He maneuvers the large truck deftly through the neighborhood and gets on the highway. I google the address and it’s only five miles away, but it’s expected to take a half hour. I take a deep breath.

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“I um, had an idea.”

He glances over at me.

“Well?”

“It’s kind of a big change. What if instead of making the five units into one we do three?”

“Three?”

“Yeah.” I open my laptop, realize he can’t look at it while he’s driving, and shut it back up. “I thought two units, about twenty-five hundred square feet each and a basement…office.”

“Office?”

“I noticed that some of the brownstones in our neighborhood have offices in the basement instead of the apartment like mine, er, Myles’s.”

“Myles’s?”

“I know it’s a mouthful. We said when we were kids it would be easier if he didn’t have any possessions.”

Scott laughs. I even like his laugh. But right now I am so excited about the idea, and what he thinks about it, that I just plow ahead.

“Then you could rent the office, even if you sell the other two, have some more income.”

He frowns, but he’s staring straight ahead. I look and don’t see any traffic issues. He must just hate the idea.

“I don’t know, Chels, I don’t really want any more rental units. I just like to sell them and move on.”

“Okay.”

I say it as neutrally as I can, but inside I’m kind of crushed. I thought it was a brilliant idea.

He pulls off the highway and stops at a light. Another idea comes to me.

“What if we, I mean, you, bundle it with the lower unit. So whoever buys it is getting a rental property along with their condo?”

“Huh.” He turns and smiles at me. My stomach flips over. “Now you’re talking.”

My heart soars. When he looks at me like that, I feel like I can do anything I set my mind to.

“The other, um, crazy idea I had.” I look down at the laptop. I can’t wait to show him, see what he thinks. “Is flip the downstairs apartment, so the bedrooms are on the bottom.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Noise. That way the living areas are next to each other, but the bedrooms are as far away from the ones in the other unit as possible. And the office—”

“Will be quiet at night. That’s brilliant. Hold on.”

He pulls up next to an empty parking space.

“It’s a couple of blocks from here, but I can’t be too picky.”

“Is it going to fit?”

“No problem.”

He spins the wheel with the heel of his hand and fits the truck into the space on the first try.

“I have to admit, that’s pretty impressive.”

“Really?”

We get out—he takes the bagel bag—and walk down the street. It looks a lot like Brooklyn Heights.

“We have an even bigger truck, back home, I mean, but I don’t think I’ve ever tried to parallel park it.”

“Not even for your driving test?”

“Nope.”

As we walk along Scott points out some of the buildings. He’s done some renovations in the neighborhood. He also shows me a couple he decided not to bid on.

“This is it,” he says, turning.

Number 81 definitely has the look of a work in progress. I start up the stairs.

“I thought we’d look at the basement unit first. I got to warn you, it’s like a cave.”

“See it would make a great office. Who wants to live in a cave?”

“Who wants to work in a cave?”

“Come on.” I reach out and tug at his wrist. Then I freeze. “Sorry.”

“What for?”

For touching you,I think. I’m also not that sorry. I try to ascertain if he felt the jolt of electricity I did, but I can’t tell. Which means probably not.

He opens up the door and steps back and lets me enter first.

“What do you think?”

It’s dark and dingy and smells a little bad. This could be my first real design job, I think. Maybe even if the show doesn’t work out, he’ll like my ideas enough to hire me. Goodbye waitressing.

I turn around. He’s looking right at me. I think my reaction is important to him and that’s kind of thrilling.

“It’s got great potential,” I announce confidently. “I love it.”