Chapter 6
Chapter Six
W ithin two weeks of Palmer and his men beginning work outside, he had running water and decent water pressure everywhere and electricity in the barn. Some of the old pipes in the building groaned when he showered, but he was assured nothing like the pipe bursting in his kitchen would happen again. Palmer had looked over each exposed connection personally.
Every day that the men worked, Juliette was there to film with him. He spent some time teaching her all he could about his cameras and equipment. By the end of the first week, she was fully capable of finding the best angle and took over most of the filming and editing while he got to work demo-ing the bathrooms and all that tile.
Of course, she set up a few cameras on his project. Every evening, she would splice the videos together and post them on his new social media pages, which they were calling Saving the Light.
She was good, damn good, not only at editing the videos together but at making them tell a story. Sure, they were just construction videos, but Juliette had somehow turned them into something that dragged you in and kept you glued to the screen.
There were instructional videos that she got Palmer or Parker to make about the more technical sides of things and a ton of time-lapse videos showing the progress.
He was surprised at how quickly the profiles had gotten to almost a million followers.
“I told you, people like me eat this shit up.” She had laughed when they hit more than a million views on the video of him destroying the pink tiled bathroom. “Plus, you’re eye candy.” She nudged him with her elbow. “I bet if you took your shirt off next time, we’d hit two million views.”
He chuckled. “Trust me, they’re not watching these because of me. I think they just enjoyed seeing that pink tile be destroyed.”
She shrugged. “Maybe, but the comments say differently.” She leaned closer and showed him some of the comments.
To be honest, he didn’t really read any of the text since the sweet scent of her perfume filled his senses and made him want to lean in closer to her.
“Once we’re a little further along in the process, we can splice some scenes together to show progress in each space,” she continued.
“You’re really great at this. All of this. The social media aspects as well as filming and edits.”
“You’re pretty good at it too, I hear.”
He shook his head. “I’m a storyteller. I let the directors do the rest.”
“Well, you’re pretty good at the telling then.” She smiled.
“What about rolling up your sleeves tomorrow and helping me out in the blue bathroom?” he suggested.
Her eyes lit up. “You think I could? I mean, I know I can physically. I helped my parents remodel their kitchen a few years back and have spent too much time painting walls.” She chuckled.
“Oh?” He smiled, enjoying the way her face glowed with humor.
“My mother can never settle on a color. I swear she repaints her rooms once a year. If you were to cut a chunk out of the walls in their place, it would probably look like one of those gobstoppers you break in half.”
He chuckled. “Okay, so when we start painting inside, I’ll put you in charge.”
She glanced over at him, her smile slipping slightly. “I’d really enjoy that. Just don’t tell me you’re going to paint the walls in here sea-foam green.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Why?”
“It’s impossible to work with. No matter what I painted over it, you could always see streaks. And I walked around for a week looking like I had foam green freckles. I swear that color was impossible to clean off my skin.”
He was smiling. “No, I haven’t picked colors for the walls yet. Since you’re such an expert, maybe you can help me decide.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” She jumped up from the table and then motioned for him to follow. “Come on, we have to look at each room.” And then, to his surprise, she rummaged in her purse for a moment and pulled out a paint color wheel.
“Do you carry that in there all the time?” he asked, following her over to stand in the middle of the room.
She glanced at the color wheel and chuckled. “Not really, but my mother wanted me to stop off and get a can of Osprey White for her powder room. She plans on painting it next week.”
“Okay.”
She held up the wheel and fanned some colors out.
“What color cabinets are you putting in here?” She suddenly turned towards him.
“I… haven’t decided.”
She turned back and squinted at the kitchen.
“This room is difficult. If you plan on moving the cabinets…” She pulled a pad and pen out of her purse and quickly sketched a drawing.
“Oh!” He snapped his fingers. “Palmer worked up something.” He picked up his iPad and flipped to the designs that Palmer had emailed him. “Here, this is what he came up with for cabinet locations..”
She held the iPad and nodded. “Just what I thought.” She motioned to her drawing. “It’s really the best design. So, if you go with cream colored cabinets, a darker color for the island would be good.” She tilted her head as she looked at the sketches. “Something in natural wood colors. This would go nicely.” She tapped the color wheel on a light honey color.
“Okay.” He nodded.
She turned to look at him. “Okay?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “What next?”
She shook her head slightly. “Just okay?”
He chuckled. “Something tells me I’m not as particular about wall colors as your mother.”
She rolled her eyes and wrote the color code in her notepad. They moved into the dining room. After scanning the designs Palmer had sent him, they chose colors for each room on the main floor, then went upstairs to the bedrooms and did the same.
Shortly after Juliette left to go home for the night, he stepped out of the shower, kicking himself mentally for not kissing her. He should have made his move.
He’d never moved fast when it came to attraction. Hell, he’d pussy-footed around in New York with Sophia and had only ever kissed her once. Well, twice if he counted the quick peck he’d given her the night she’d told him she was in love with Palmer.
This time, he had no intention of letting Juliette lose interest and fall for someone else. He knew that the attraction was there. The way she looked at him assured him of her interest.
Since he wasn’t tired, he sat on the sofa and worked on the project that he’d started the first night he’d moved into the place.
At some point, he must have drifted off, and he woke in the dark with his head at an odd angle. His laptop still sitting opened on his lap, but now the screensaver was the only light in the room. It flashed the time and he saw it was almost half past three in the morning.
He closed the lid and froze in place when he heard a floorboard creak somewhere in the house. He knew that old places settled. Hell, he’d been living in the building for a few months now and had almost memorized all its groans and settling noises. This was nothing like those. This was caused by someone walking on the old floorboards, most likely the ones on the stairs or in the hallway.
“Darling, is that you?” A soft voice fluttered into the room with a chill. “Darling?” The voice echoed again.
Max’s eyes were glued to the dark empty doorway. His entire body was rigid, and he held his breath.
“Darling?” The word echoed in the icy night air.
A loud bang woke Max from the dream, and he spilled his laptop from his lap onto the floor.
“Sorry.” Juliette winced as she stepped into the room balancing a large bakery box and a tray of coffee cups. “The door got away from me.” She set the items down on the coffee table.
He ran his hands over his face and tried to shake the dream. He’d been researching the couple who had lived here and was pretty sure the dream was a manifestation of his research. Still, it took a few minutes for his heart rate to slow.
The coffee and sugary donuts did not help. Juliette’s company did.
By the time the construction crew arrived and started the repairs on the foundation on the outer walls of the basement, he was back to normal.
That day, he and Juliette were working in the kitchen, tearing out all the old cupboards and cabinets. They would haul all of the rubble out and into the large dumpster that had been placed just outside his front door.
Palmer hadn’t been joking when he said that the place would get worse before it got better. It looked like a war zone.
Due to Juliette’s work, however, they currently had more than a million followers on the YouTube channel alone. She’d filmed Palmer and Parker explaining the intricacies of the electric and plumbing work and planned several more videos like that as the project went on.
By far, the most watched video was the one where she climbed the stairs of the lighthouse and explained the history of the building as she went. The video ended with a panoramic view from the very top on a bright and sunny spring morning.
The majority of comments had been people asking if he would open the place up to tourists after they were done with renovations, something he was thinking about deeply. After all, he wanted to keep the history of the building alive and to share it with others.
He’d changed into his work clothes—worn jeans, a flannel shirt over a T-shirt, and work boots. He looked ever the part of the construction worker. The only difference between him and the crew outside was that they knew what they were doing.
Rolling his shoulders, he surveyed the kitchen and wondered where to begin.
“Ready to do this?” he asked as he turned to Juliette, who was already holding up the camera, recording him. “Are you getting my good side?” he joked.
She smirked, tilting her head. “That depends. Which side is your good side?”
He pointed at himself with the sledgehammer. “All of them.”
Juliette snorted but kept filming as he took a solid stance in front of the first set of cabinets. “Alright, first strike, let’s make it cinematic,” she teased. “Give the people what they want.”
He chuckled. “You mean raw, untamed strength?” He lifted the sledgehammer dramatically, flexing a little more than necessary.
“Oh, absolutely,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement. “I mean, those followers are here for the… construction progress.” She aimed the camera at his biceps.
He rolled his eyes, unable to hide his grin, and swung the hammer, smashing into the cabinet door with a loud crack. Wood splintered, and Juliette let out an exaggerated gasp.
“Oh no,” she teased. “I was going to sell those on Marketplace.”
Max barked out a laugh. “Right. And how much were you gonna list these fine relics for?” He kicked at the broken cabinet door, and it collapsed into pieces.
“Priceless,” she said with mock seriousness. “An authentic, weathered, nearly hundred-year-old cabinet, touched by the hands of every lighthouse keeper.”
He leaned on the sledgehammer, looking at her. “Oh, so now I’m a lighthouse keeper?”
“Well, what else do you call someone who lives in a lighthouse?”
Max thought for a second, then shrugged. “A handsome, rugged, slightly wounded contractor?” He motioned to his bruised forehead.
Juliette chuckled. “Yes, yes, that too.”
She shifted the camera just as he took another powerful swing, shattering a cabinet into pieces. “Okay, that was actually impressive,” she admitted. “Let me get a slow-mo shot of you doing that to the next one.”
Max smirked. “You just want more footage of my muscles.”
“I do not!” she said, but the way she bit her lip and angled the camera slightly lower made him chuckle.
Deciding to give her something worth filming, he ripped off his flannel, leaving just his white T-shirt underneath. Besides, he’d already worked up a sweat. “Ready?” he asked, flexing just a little. When she nodded that she was ready, he took another swing.
Juliette let out a laugh behind the camera. “Max, if you flex any harder, this is going to turn into a thirst trap instead of a renovation video.”
“Gotta keep engagement up,” he teased as he continued to work.
They worked together for the next hour, knocking out cabinets, prying up stubborn old countertops, and dodging flying debris. At one point, Juliette attempted to take a swing with the hammer, but it was almost as heavy as she was. Max stood behind her, guiding her hands, his chest brushing against her back.
“Okay, steady, now swing,” he murmured.
She did—sending the hammer straight through the plaster wall instead of the cabinet. Dust rained down, and they both froze.
Juliette turned, eyes wide. “That… was not a cabinet.”
Max blinked at the hole, then back at her, before bursting into laughter. “No, no it was not.”
Juliette gasped, smacking his arm. “You’re laughing at my destruction?”
He grinned down at her. “Babe, this whole thing is about destruction.”
She groaned, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Okay, fair. But you’re patching that.”
“Palmer’s guys will patch it.” He looped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “We’ll call it a happy accident,” he murmured, their noses almost touching.
Her breath hitched, her eyes flicking to his lips.
The moment stretched between them—then suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the kitchen. They both jumped as one of the remaining upper cabinets gave out and hit the floor with a splintering thud.
Juliette clutched his arm. “Well, that was ominous.”
Max sighed. “Maybe the house is jealous.”
She laughed. “Or maybe it’s just telling you it’s past time for this remodel.”
He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Then let’s give it what it wants.”
She grinned and lifted her camera again. “Round two?”
Max swung the hammer onto his shoulder and winked at her. “Let’s do this.”