13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Beck
The smell of paint fills my nose, which is probably a good change from smelling Dallas’s fruity scent.
It’s a nice reality check.
“I’m no professional,” Dallas says, stepping back. “But I think it looks pretty good.”
My gaze skates over the bedroom wall in front of me. I wanted to work on the great room, which is nice and open.
But Dallas insisted, which is going to mean we’re still behind on the great room, which is, by all accounts, far more of a priority than the bedrooms are at this point.
I was vetoed. So now we’re painting bedrooms. Small, intimate bedrooms.
“We’re going to have to do the second coat in the daytime light,” I say. “It’s hard to tell at night what we’re missing.”
“It’s a good off-white. Did you pick it?” she asks.
“Yes. I’ve seen my way around a lot of off-whites and creams in my day. This one’s my favorite,” I tell her.
“Tell me about the other projects you have going,” she says.
I put the roller back in the tray and brush my hair off my forehead. “We’ve got three new-build homes over on the west side of town. Seven home remodels in various stages. The remodel of Kingston’s Bakery on the boardwalk. We’re also in the beginning stages of a new strip mall on Main Street. And this remodel. Also, if things go well, the new teen wing of the YMCA.”
Not that we’ve won the bid yet. Leo and his friends and classmates need a space that’s open, clean, and inviting. I want to help the youth of Willow Cove have something that will help them be healthier and united as a group. A safe space. They deserve it, and I feel I have the vision to make it happen. Besides, how could I not give back? The YMCA was my second home when I was a kid.
We just have to get Willow Wood up and running in time and in the way the mayor wants it to be.
Dallas whistles. “That’s a lot of projects.”
“I have several good crews and I like being busy.” We’re finished with the bedroom walls, and as far as I can tell, they look great.
“Not a bad night’s work,” Dallas says, rubbing a hand along her forehead. “At this pace, we’ll complete the rest of the rooms by the weekend, right?”
“And then my crew can come in to paint the molding and doors. You’re sure we’re doing this again tomorrow?”
She gives me a look like, Duh. “I don’t see how else we’re going to be ready in time, Beck. And yeah, I’m not a professional but details are important to me, so I guess it’s better than no paint at all, right?”
“You painted better than I thought you would,” I admit.
She smirks, tells me “thanks,” and then leaves the room, the paint roller resting in the paint tray.
I rummage in my box of painting supplies and find the paint brush savers. “Hey.” I raise my voice so she can hear me. “Put the rollers in some paint savers. You don’t want to ruin them by letting the paint dry.” I hold the paint savers in the air.
She peeks around the corner and sticks out her bottom lip. “Oops. And just when you were praising my painting skills, I go and do an amateur thing like that.”
I like her bottom lip. I like her top lip, too. And the way the corners of her eyes crinkle on the edges, both when she’s smiling and when she’s scowling at me.
I have got to stop thinking things like that.
She puts her roller in a plastic saver, and I use one for mine, and then we’re in the hallway, where the light is shadowy. My guys haven’t finished installing the lighting in this hall yet, and part of me is glad for the softer effect.
She seems to be working hard to avoid my gaze, scraping her thumbnail along the skin of her hand, working on a splotch of paint. “So once the main floor is all done, what next?” she says. “What’s the upstairs like?”
Without thinking, I grab her hand to head to the staircase. Warmth spreads through my fingers and up my arm at the touch. “I can’t believe you’ve never been up there. It’s high time for a tour.”
As we ascend, I remember that there isn’t yet any lighting that works on the second floor. I pull my phone out of my jeans pocket and turn on the flashlight. By the time we’ve reached the top, I drop her hand. I don’t know what I was thinking grabbing her hand like that.
“Your guided tour will be a little dark. Sorry.” I toss the remark behind me.
She steps up to match my stride as we head down the hall, away from the stairs’ landing area. She clutches my elbow. It’s just my elbow, like if I were to help a little old lady across the street, right?
Wrong. Because my heart rate ticks up at her nearness and that peachy scent.
Being by Dallas’s side with her no-nonsense yet somehow equally quirky personality is something I’m drawn to. I shouldn’t be. But I am.
Best start talking about something else. “So in here, on this side of the house there are a couple more bedrooms and then this.” I’ve reached the end of the hall and have to put my phone back in my pocket to open the twin doors. “This section’s going to be really fun to remodel. The owner’s suite.”
The bare room is large, with stately windows letting in moonlight.
She takes in a breath. “Oh, wow. This is going to be really lovely. I bet it was lovely before. That crown molding. And the carved fireplace. They outdid themselves with this one.” She rushes over to the fireplace, and I struggle to catch up with her with the light. “Oooh.” She rubs her hand along the top, sending a puff of dust into the air.
“The mayor wants to make this the honeymoon suite,” I say. “Eventually.”
She gasps again. “That was my thought, too. Good financial decision. And it would be so perfect.” She steps toward one of the back windows to see the vast expanse of inky black ocean beyond the row of dim streetlamps that line the walking path. “Can you imagine how romantic this would be?”
I step forward to stand at her shoulder and take in the scene below us. Before I can respond, she sighs.
“I mean. For people who like that yucky love stuff,” she adds, tossing me the side-eye.
“How are you a wedding planner if you hate love so much?”
“I don’t hate love,” she insists. “I like the idea of it. But in practice, not so much. I already told you. I’ve seen too much.”
The sound of the ocean waves usually calms me, but right now, it’s churning in my mind, and I can’t rest my thoughts.
“Maybe you should stop chronicling what happens to all the couples you work with after the wedding,” I tell her.
She laughs, but I gently push against her shoulder with my own. “I’m serious. That just seems depressing.”
“Not all my couples end up divorced. There’s a lot who are doing great, and I love seeing that.” She pauses. “I don’t know. For me, wedding planning is less about the romance and more about the beauty of it all, the colors and themes and aesthetics. Having it all come together is what excites me. I try not to get too invested in the emotions of it all. I am happy for my couples and their families. It’s just…I make sure I’m keeping it professional at all times. I have to.” She hesitates. “Except for my need to know if they make it or not.”
“Come here.” Suddenly, I’m holding her hand again, walking her to the ensuite bathroom. I’ve got to stop dragging her around by the hand, but it’s dark up here and I want to keep her safe. “You’ll be happy to see this ensuite is larger than a closet—unlike the bedrooms downstairs.”
“Yes! Finally!”
It’s been gutted and cleaned out, so there’s little in here that will resemble the finished product. “None of the finishes have been selected for the bathroom yet. Maybe you could offer some suggestions if you want.”
Her eyes grow large. “I want. I want.”
I’m still chuckling over her excitement as we exit the bathroom and re-enter the bedroom. I pull open a door in the back. “The balcony.” I make a flourish with my arm, and she gasps again.
“I didn’t even know this existed.”
Funny how I was just thinking that the bedroom we painted was too intimate. And that was a bad thing. Now I’m on the balcony with her and we’re smelling the evening ocean air and suddenly it feels like a good thing?
“It’s perfect,” she says. “This part of the house alone is worth a lot. You’re going to get so many people reserving this.”
I step away from the railing. “If I remember right, it’s a little wobbly.”
“Oh. Okay.” She raises her elbows off the railing and takes a step back. And that seems to have done the trick that my mind needed. There. We can reestablish a sense of propriety.
We’re back through the bathroom and owner’s suite and into the hallway in no time.
“What’s on the other side of the stairs?” she asks. Is her voice a little higher pitched than normal? Is she as affected by our close proximity and the night air as I am?
“Two more bedrooms. And then on the mirroring side of the honeymoon suite is the library.”
She starts a slow jog, and I have to angle my phone so that I can light the way for her.
“Please tell me there are old books here still.”
“Sorry. The books were relocated to the county library last year during demo. They were just boring old county histories and stuff like that.”
“Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She pushes through the door and murmurs in delight at the bookshelves, built-ins that are solid, heavy, and stained a dark walnut.
“Tell me your vision for this place.” She tosses a look behind her and then runs a finger along one of the shelves. “Please don’t say you’re going to rip out these built-ins.”
“Of course not. The mayor doesn’t want to do much. Just sand the floors down a bit. Maybe add in a few coffee tables, some sofas, and overstuffed chairs. I don’t know. We haven’t thought about it much.”
She wheels around. “I have a better idea. What if this room were used as a bridal suite where the bride and her wedding party can get ready? We could put in a few vanities and mirrors with lights around them. And the shelves could house little basketsthe brides could store things in.” Excitement overtakes her face. “People would go nuts over it.”
“Skylights? Vanities and mirrors?” I clear my throat and step out of the room. “I’m sure you’re right. But that would have to happen later on. I’m not about to ask the mayor to increase the budget.”
Another loud bark and a scampering sound jolts me into action, back up the hall and down the stairs, with Dallas close behind.
I hear a thunk, followed by a glurk, glurk . And as I step off the last step, I see Ace, with paint on his legs and feet and splatters over the rest of him, bounding towards me, all smiles and a wagging tail, painting milky white footprints all over the floor with every step.