Chapter 31 Jada
Bryce was halfway up the sidewalk to my grandma’s house when I walked out the front door wearing well-worn, paint-stained overalls and a plain white tee. At Glamma’s insistence, I’d accessorized with a red checkered headband to add some color.
He stopped in his tracks, taking me in with a small smile on his lips. “I love this look on you.”
As my stomach fluttered at the compliment, I replied, “You should have seen my grandma’s face when I told her this is what I was wearing for our date.
” The pure look of horror had only been a prelude to her opinions.
Why even bother changing out of your bartending clothes with an outfit like that, she’d blustered.
Bryce and I met on the sidewalk, and he moved alongside me to his truck.
“She didn’t approve?” he asked, holding the door open for me.
Moving past him, my shoulder brushed his strong chest, stirring goose bumps on my arm. I casually rubbed the spot as I said, “I’m pretty sure she sprinkled me with holy water and glitter when I wasn’t looking.”
He laughed at that. “Are you cured?”
“Just wet,” I retorted.
He blinked. “Wet.”
I blanched. “I mean. You know.” My cheeks were already getting hot.
His lips curved. “Do I?”
I playfully hit his shoulder. “Get outta here with that. Better yet, tell me what we’re doing?”
“Sure.” Still smiling, he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side, looking fine as hell in casual clothes. When he got back in, he said, “I thought since we’ll be spending more time together, I could show you something I enjoy.”
My eyebrows perked up. I had guessed maybe a painting or pottery class, but Bryce didn’t seem the artistic type. “Tell me more.”
“Antique restoration is one of the only things I do for fun,” he said quickly, almost like he was shy about it.
“I like to go to antique sales, estate sales, thrift stores, even drive around on big trash day and find diamonds buried in the rough. A lot of times, a piece has perfectly good bones, but it’s cast aside and forgotten because of a few chips and dings.
It just takes a little time to make it shine again. ”
“Do you have any pictures of your projects?” I asked as we pulled up to a stoplight. It sounded like a cool hobby.
Before the light turned green, he lifted his hips to grab his phone and went to his photos. “Pretty much all my photos are antiques.”
A man handing over his phone so easily? That was new to me. I looked at the screen, seeing the apps neatly labeled in different categories. The photo app came up easily, but the first photo wasn’t of furniture... It was a boy—maybe thirteen or fourteen—in a football jersey.
“Who’s this cutie?” I asked him, turning the phone.
He glanced at it as he drove, a small smile forming on his lips. “My nephew Sammy. He’s playing varsity as a freshman.”
“Cute,” I said, turning to the next photo. This one showed a tall wooden console with richly colored stain and gleaming gold finishes. It stood in a decked-out woodshop, expensive-looking cabinets in the background. “This is one of your projects?” I asked him.
He glanced over for just a second. “Yeah, that’s the radio. I’m giving it to Dad for his birthday.”
I smiled at it, studying it closer. “It looks flawless.” Even zooming in to study the features a little closer didn’t reveal any imperfections.
“If you swipe back a couple, you should be able to see the original.”
I did, moving past a photo of a sunset over a farm and another picture of a little girl, her face covered in chocolate ice cream. When I found the original, I couldn’t believe it was the same radio player. “How did you get all the dents out?” I asked.
“Wood filler, sandpaper, a lot of patience, and a few prayers.” He chuckled.
“This is so cool,” I told him, passing his phone back.
His jaw flexed as he dropped it in the center console. I wondered if I’d done something wrong. “Is everything okay?” I asked as he pulled up to another stoplight.
Bryce shook his head. “I’m fine, just surprised. I think you’re the first person not to make fun of me for my hobby.”
My brows knit together. “Why would I make fun of you?”
He twisted his lips to the side. “Most people think it’s silly that I could afford anything new and still prefer to fix up ‘trash.’”
“Why waste resources when you don’t have to?” I wondered. “You’re the one who makes the most sense to me. But maybe that’s because my grandma doesn’t even let me throw away ‘good’ pieces of foil.” I chuckled.
Bryce’s own laugh seemed relieved. “Today is big trash day in one of the older neighborhoods in town,” he explained, “so I thought we could drive around to see what we find, then work on it together?”
My lips tipped up into a smile.
“What?” Bryce asked.
“You keep surprising me is all,” I said.
And then I looked out the window, letting my smile falter.
What if Bryce was actually a nice guy? I wondered.
What if this wasn’t all a scheme? I need to tell him the truth, I realized.
But I still didn’t know him that well. I was determined to find out more on this date.
“What are we looking for?” I finally asked.
“All-wood furniture is typically the easiest for us to work with so we don’t have to worry about reupholstering anything,” he explained. “Also, it’s best if it’s structurally good.”
“Gotcha—diamonds in the rough,” I replied.
“Exactly.” He smiled over at me, looking fully in his element. I liked Bryce in his suit. I liked seeing him solve problems for me at work or eating at a fancy restaurant—but here in his worn jeans and a T-shirt... it seemed like I was getting my own special version of him.
The neighborhood we were in was full of gorgeous farm-style homes. Most of them were two or three stories, and the landscaping added to the allure with short-cut grass and mature trees dripping with leaves in every shade of red, orange, and yellow.
I rolled down my window to get a better look and felt cool air gliding over my skin.
Several of the homes had piles of garbage along the road, from bags of leaves to construction trash, and even some older furniture.
“What about that one?” I asked, pointing toward a desk across the street.
Checking his mirrors, he crossed the road, pulling up alongside a wooden roll-top desk. “Looks promising!” He opened his doors, eyes lit up like he was on a treasure hunt, and said, “Let’s check it out.”
We got out of the truck, walking over short-and-somehow-still-lush grass to the desk. Bryce ran a thumb over the golden lock area, then the handles. “Looks like it still has the original fixtures.”
“That’s good, right?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Then he pulled out the drawer and knelt down. “That’s a good sign too. Dovetail joints.” He showed me how the drawers came together with what looked like puzzle-piece shapes. “They don’t make furniture like this anymore.”
Even though I’d never paid attention to furniture this close a day in my life, I loved seeing him light up like this.
Everyone these days seemed to be so bored of everything—especially if it didn’t make money.
And his interest was contagious. Here I was looking inside drawers for post-manufacture contact paper and wondering if WD-40 is all it would take to make the top slide easier.
“Think this is the one?” Bryce asked. “Or we could keep driving. The piece has to speak to you.”
I looked at that inanimate, mute hunk of wood and glue and said, “Yep, it’s talking to me. That’s the one.”
Bryce grinned over at me. “Let’s get it in.”
My stomach sank. “Oh, I can’t lift anything over twenty pounds. My... back.” I finished lamely.
He waved off my worry. “That’s okay. I usually do this by myself.”
And damn, did he have it by himself. I stood off to the side, getting my own personal show to Bryce Madigan’s muscles. Best supporting actor? That white T-shirt. Damn.
When the desk was in the back of his pickup, he stood, wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt.
He wasn’t perfectly chiseled, but solid; you could see how strong he was. I had to force myself to look away, but I didn’t do it in time because he caught me staring and gave a satisfied smile while my cheeks flamed.
Fall, I could use you right about now to cool me off, I thought. But Bryce said, “Come on, let’s get it home.”
I stared as we drove through the metal gate, revealing expansive acreage with grass just hanging on to its last bits of green. Trees dotted the property with gold, red, and brown leaves swaying, scattering in the wind.
At the end of the drive was a ranch-style home with a two-car garage and a separate shop building.
I stared at the place. This was definitely not what I was expecting. Were we making a detour somewhere?
But Bryce said, “Home sweet home.”
I stared at him for a moment before he got out and came around to my side.
When he opened the door, I asked, “This isn’t really your house, is it?”
He did a double take over his shoulder. “If it’s not, I have a lot of explaining to do. And maybe the owners do too for letting me squat here.”
I chuckled despite my confusion. This was a beautiful home, and I could see why Bryce chose it, but it was not the megamansion I expected the founder of a billion-dollar company to live in.
A nervous smile played on Bryce’s lips as he asked, “Let’s go inside?”
I nodded, following him to the front porch. It was pretty—the kind you could sit on in a rocking chair and watch the sunset. Bryce tapped a code into the keypad allowing him to slide the deadbolt open, and then we walked inside.
Again, it was not what I expected. Everything was clean, but instead of sleek and modern furnishings, there was a warmth to this home that came from all the pieces. These didn’t look like items you could buy from a furniture store—they all seemed hand-selected to fit the aesthetic of the home.
“Wow,” I breathed. “This isn’t exactly a bachelor pad.”
He chuckled as he shut the door behind me. “You like it so far?”
I nodded. “Are these all your projects?” I began to realize this was a lot more than an arts-and-crafts hobby to him.
“Some of them,” he said humbly. “Others I found along the way.”
His small smile was contagious. I found my own lips lifting as I watched him run his fingertips over a bookshelf. “Let me give you the tour before we start on our project.”
It would have been easy to wander about his house and examine all his furniture, but instead, I followed him through the space, seeing a primary bedroom, a guest bathroom, and something that looked like a top-secret tech office from a spy movie.
I stared at all the computer monitors. “These are all yours?”
“I borrowed some from my neighbor.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”
“No.” Bryce chuckled. “They’re mine.”
I shook my head at him. Sometimes, I wished he wasn’t so endearing. It would make the secret I was keeping much easier.
In fact, as I watched him tell me about the last time his nieces and nephews stayed over for a movie night, I realized he didn’t give any signs warning me to stay back.
Everything I learned about Bryce was a green light.
His only red flag was the fact that he was about to marry me for the sake of his business.
And yet, he’d been honest about his intentions.
I wondered how long I could manage to be dishonest about mine.