That doesn’t surprise me. I haven’t forgotten Paisley’s need to decorate when we were younger. She once decorated my treehouse when we were just kids. Spencer wasn’t happy about it, but I have to say, Paisley kind of knew what she was doing back then, so I have no doubt she’ll be great at picking out things for her new place.
“I believe that.” I can’t help but smile as I lean against the counter, facing her. “I remember you used to have a knack for decorating.”
She grins. “I guess it’s always been a passion.”
“It’s a good passion.” I cross my arms, scanning my eyes around the outdated kitchen. “What do you see for this room?”
“Lots of storage. It’s a good layout. Sky-blue cabinets, black granite countertop, terra cotta tiles.” I listen as she rattles off everything from lighting to drawer pulls. “They have some affordable countertops at Harry’s Home.”
“We can go check some out.” I tell myself I’m only offering because I want to ensure she gets the best price, nothing more.
Her cheeks tinge pink as she glances at the floor. “Maybe.”
“Or you don’t have to go with me.” Maybe it’s best if we don’t spend extra time together.
“I don’t want to take up more of your time. I can always get my friend, Colby, to go with me.” She laughs a little. “He’s got an eye for these things.”
“Great.” I turn back around to finish with the measurements. I don’t know who Colby is, but already I don’t like him.
I click the tape measurer and snap it back into place.
“When will you be starting on the kitchen?”
I can’t identify this feeling bubbling up inside me. It’s occupying my entire headspace. I can’t even think straight.
“I don’t know yet. Spencer and I have to discuss a game plan first.”
“Ok.”
“Well, do you think I should get the countertop soon?”
I run a frustrated hand through my hair, wondering what on earth is wrong with me. “I don’t care what you do. If you want to buy the counter, buy it. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Whoa, you’re being a jerk.” She parks both hands on her hips. And the action draws my eyes to the appealing curves.
“I’m just gonna take a few more measurements and then get you home. I’m sure it’s past your bedtime anyway.” I hate myself.
And the thing I hate more is the anger in her eyes.
She scrunches her nose. “I don’t have a bedtime.”
I nod, not wanting to apologize to her, even though every cell in my body is begging me to sweep her into my arms and kiss her anger away. “Leave me alone so I can finish, ok?”
She stares at me a beat before turning and walking away.
Five
Paisley
* * *
Leave him alone? Sure thing. Don’t have to tell me twice. It’s my house, though, so I can look if I want. Take that, you crotchety exquisite man. He strolls throughout the house, measuring different things, and I watch the same way I used to watch him as a kid. When he and Spencer built their treehouse, that’s still there today, I’d sit on the back porch, soda in hand, studying Vaughn. He still has the same habit of biting the corner of his lower lip as he did back then, when he’d carefully place the wood and use a hammer to nail it all together.
That’s when my crush was born. In hindsight, I should’ve looked away when he smiled from across the lawn, seeking out my thoughts on the structure, like what I had to say was important. I was even the first one to enter the treehouse when it was finally done. And I instantly filled it with pillows from the couch and gave him his first housewarming present—a tractor.
Not just any tractor, either. A bright yellow and green metal heirloom. The same one my grandfather gave my grandmother when they first met.
It was special.
He probably threw it away.
Just like he threw away my kiss.
He continues snapping his measuring tape like a whip, and I refuse to move from my living room to ‘leave him alone.’ When mom gave me the tractor, she said the tank was filled with hope. Well, I hope he feels me staring. I hope all the corded muscles, moving beneath his shirt, are feeling really uncomfortable right now.
Upstairs, I thought we shared a moment. But, I see now we didn’t. It was all in my imagination. I just want this whole renovation job to be over.
“All done,” he states, letting his tape measure click back into place.
“Great.” I make a beeline for the door, and slam it behind me, leaving Vaughn inside.
Of course, the truck is locked, so my tantrum results in me having to stand by his truck and hope nothing wild and hungry is lurking in the shadows of my property. The house goes dark and he exits, taking long strides toward me.