Pike (Sin City Saints Hockey 2) - Page 36

I keep sketching as I verbally paint a picture of what the room could look like for Pike, and once I’m done, I turn my notepad around to show him. He looks down at it, nods, and then glances back up at me with a smirk.

“Now who’s the immature one? Sixty-nine?”

I laugh, because I’d been wondering if he’d notice that I included a framed hockey jersey that said Pike on the back with the number sixty-nine.

“Mine actually says Morgan, and I’m number thirty,” he says, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Good to know.” I tuck my sketchpad back under my arm, warm and happy from the way he’s looking at me.

“And I love all those ideas,” he says. “Can you do it?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect. I didn’t know what to do with this room, but the way you drew it—it’s great.”

God, this feels good. I never imagined I could get paid for doing something that satisfies my creativity.

“Cynthia has interior design experience, so I’d want to consult with her on it,” I say. “And we might be able to fit in a couple pieces of art if we find the right things for this room.”

Pike nods. “Sounds great. Just let me know when we’re done looking around how much money you need to get started.”

I mentally face-palm my forehead, remembering that Cynthia told me to have this part of the conversation with clients early on.

“What’s your budget for everything?” I ask.

“I hadn’t even thought about it. I guess…well, the art will all be stuff I can take with me, right? If I get traded to another team, I’ll have to move.”

“Yes. And any furniture we buy, you can take, too. But remember that custom built-ins will stay with the house.”

“It’s a good investment, though, don’t you think?”

“I do. And if you can afford it, there’s something to be said for making the house yours while you live here.”

“Would two hundred and fifty grand work?” he asks.

I practically fall over, because that’s way more than I imagined.

“Absolutely,” I say, not reacting to his budget, as Cynthia taught me. “That’s more than enough. And you’ll get receipts for everything. We’re transparent about the expenses.”

He helps me take measurements in the room, and then I finish sketching the walls I missed in the first drawing. When I look up, a smile plays on Pike’s lips as he says, “Bedroom’s this way.”

My heart pounds as I follow him into a room with a massive king-size bed, the bed frame made of a dark wood, a matching dresser with a mirror above it, and…nothing else. Surprisingly, the bed is made. I underestimated Pike.

“Okay.” I turn to a new page in my sketchbook, getting excited. “There’s a lot to work with here.”

I sketch, measure, and take notes on every room and hallway in the house, and then Pike drives us to a little Italian place for lunch.

“Did you like any of the design inspirations I sent you?” I ask him as we slide into a booth for two.

“I filled the thing out,” he says. “I rated everything like you told me to on that form you emailed.”

“I know, but…what did you like best?”

He grins at me across the table. “You’re glowing. This is what you were meant to do.”

“I love it. It’s funny how I thought I was happy enough before my life was turned upside down, but now I know it was actually the best thing that could have happened. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like the real me as much as I have these past couple months. Does that make sense?”

“It does.” He meets my gaze then, and I can’t read his expression, but it’s definitely…interested. “I liked the photos from the forest the best. And the close-up photos of the sea glass.”

“So nature is your vibe,” I say, taking some notes in my sketchpad on the pages we sketched for his living room and bedroom.

“Honestly, Indie, you can do whatever you want in my house.”

I furrow my brow. “It needs to be your space, filled with art that speaks to you.”

“You speak to me,” he says, his gaze turning serious. “When you get excited about something, I love it, too.”

It’s like there’s an invisible cord connecting the two of us—the pull I feel toward him is almost physical. For a few seconds, I just breathe, not wanting to break the spell of this moment with words.

Keep it professional, Indie. This is your first client ever.

“We could travel somewhere to look for art,” I say, looking away to gather myself. “Boston, LA, and um, Chicago have galleries I love.”

“Let’s go to Chicago. My schedule’s pretty tight because of games right now, but I could do a whole-day thing. Fly out early in the morning and come home the same day late that night.”

That’s a relief, not only because it means I don’t have to take too much time away from Nolan, but also because it means I don’t have to stay at a hotel with Pike. I think even with separate rooms, I’d feel his pull through the walls.

Tags: Brenda Rothert Sin City Saints Hockey Romance
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