“I hope whoever buys this house loves it and takes care of it,” I murmured, running my hand along the staircase rail that was smooth from years of wear.
He looked at me, a small smile on his lips. “I hope you get your wish.”
I followed him out, feeling strange. As if I had left a small piece of my heart behind me. I shook my head at my silly thoughts. I’d never felt that way about anything. Especially a house in a little town. Or the man who walked around it with me. Both seemed to have wormed their way into my heart.
I wasn’t sure what to do about that.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Kelly
A few days later, my phone rang in the morning, and I frowned at the unknown number. I answered it warily.
“Kelly Ryerson.”
“Kelly, this is Garner Holmes, editor of Toronto Now.”
“Um, hello.”
“I saw your photos in Littleburn News. My mother lives there,” he added by way of an explanation. “I was impressed. You have quite the eye.”
“Thank you. What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?”
“Garner, please. Come into the office and see me. I’d like to discuss an offer with you.”
“An offer?”
He chuckled. “I don’t like to do business over the phone. If you can’t come here, I’ll come to you.” He offered.
“No, I can come in tomorrow.”
“Perfect.” He gave me the address, and we agreed to meet at eleven.
“How did you get my number?”
“I sent an email to your website. Your assistant—Charly, I think—called me and gave me your info.” He chuckled again. “I think she was verifying my identity. She asked a lot of questions.”
“Ah, yeah, sounds like Charly.”
“Bring in some more samples of your work with you,” he requested.
I hung up and stared at my phone. Charly was excited when I told her, agreeing to be in the office so I could go.
“More work, Kelly! He wants to hire you for his magazine.”
“I hear you gave him my number.”
“I wanted to vet him,” she said primly.
I snorted. “Detective now, Charly?”
She laughed. “I just wanted to make sure he was on the up-and-up. And he is. I mean, look!” She tapped on her keyboard, bringing up the website. “They are big!”
“Who’s big?” Brett asked, walking in.
Charly showed him what she was looking at. “The editor just called, wanting to meet with Kelly,” she explained. “I think he is going to offer her a job!”
He blinked, then looked at me. “Really?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I cautioned.
He shook his head, offering me a wide smile. “I’m sure Charly is right. They saw your work and got in touch. That’s great,” he said, sounding enthused.
He grabbed a part he’d left on the desk earlier. “I need this.” He picked it up. “When are you going in?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll be in the office,” Charly said.
“Okay.” Brent squeezed my shoulder. “You need a ride?”
“No, I’ll catch the bus.”
“All right,” he agreed. “If you change your mind, I’ll take you in.”
“No, I’m good.”
He bent and brushed a kiss to my crown. “This is awesome, Shutterbug.”
I went back to work, mentally going through my portfolio. I was grateful I had my photos back that Carl had held hostage from me. As soon as I could, I hurried upstairs and got to work.
I lost track of time, startling when Brett walked in, carrying a pizza. He shook his head at my bewildered look.
“I knew you’d be so busy getting ready, you’d forget about the time or dinner.”
I glanced at my phone. “Oh my God, is it really eight o’clock?”
“Yes. Take a break and come eat.” He waved his hand. “Please.”
I sat beside him on the sofa, suddenly starved. I devoured three slices of pizza and drained a bottle of water.
Brett smiled in satisfaction and indicated my laptop. “Are you almost done?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. Then I’m putting you in a tub, and you’re going to bed.”
“Brett—”
He shook his head, interrupting me. “No arguments. What bus are you catching—the nine a.m.?”
“Yes. Then I can sit and have a cup of coffee before I meet him and gather my thoughts.”
“You are going to wow him, Shutterbug. You already have—he must have liked what he saw since he reached out.”
“I know. I’m just worried about getting too excited.”
He grinned and leaned over, kissing me. “I’m excited enough for both of us.”
“Why does this excite you?”
He tilted his head, studying me. “More work keeps you local, Shutterbug. Toronto’s not that far down the road.”
“Ah,” I murmured.
He stood. “Now, you finish. Then bath and bed.”
“Are you staying?”
He bent and kissed me again. “As if you had to ask. Pretty sure I still owe you from this morning. I never let a debt go unpaid.”
I felt the stirrings of desire. They were always there for him, just waiting for a look or word from his mouth to begin flickering, ready to burst into flames when he touched me.