I spared the sheet a quick glance. “Me? Or the firm?”
“It’s funny how you’re recognizing a distinction now,” he said. “I didn’t realize one existed.”
“Maybe you didn’t look close enough.” Turning back to the kitchen door, I said, “I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t afford it. Me and the firm, but I’m thinking about this for my investment portfolio.”
“That sounded really pretentious, peanut. Yourinvestment portfolio,” Will repeated. He watched while I opened the dining room’s built-in cabinetry, and crouched down with me to study the underside of a shelf. “What are we looking for?”
“Original craftsman marks,” I said. I found what I wanted, and stood, turning my attention to the windowpanes. “It looks authentic, but I always check.”
“Nothing here is straight,” Will said, waving at the curved wall of windows. “That seems…different.”
I ran my hand along the window sash, nodding. “Every room was designed to face the ocean. Typical in this area.” I pointed to the staircase. “Come on. More to see.”
Whenever I toured homes, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about the people who lived there. I wondered about their lives and their families, how they made it through good days and bad, whether they were content. I was always trying to nail down thehappyhome, the one that was well-loved rather than hard-worn, the one that breathed joy and comfort from the foundation up, the one that weathered storm and sunshine alike.
I couldn’t rest my hands on a single reason to love this battered Colonial, but as I circled back through all four floors, I knew I did. This was one of those homes that spoke to me in little whispers, saying, “Show me some love and I’ll sparkle for you.” I elected to park myself in the butler’s pantry and pull out my laptop to research the comparable sales.
“This is a decent place,” Will said, opening the cabinets and looking inside. “Good tactical vantage point.”
“What?” I murmured.
“Two hundred and seventy degrees of rocky oceanfront at the end of a cul-de-sac,” he said. “Highly defensible, and the beach is prime.”
“Well, when we’re finished restoring it, I’ll sell it to you,” I said, scribbling some numbers in my notebook. “I’ll even forfeit my commission.”
“Ah, yes. There’s that heart of gold I know and love,” he said, moving onto another section of cabinets.
“Get out of there,” I said, swatting his hands. “We’ve already determined they’re legit. Your big paws are going to break something.”
Will held up his hands. “My big paws are very nimble.”
We walked out two hours later with the house under contract. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it yet, and gave myself the short trip back to the city to ponder. Will and I ate dinner while working through the rest ofOrange is the New Black, and there was no debate about where he was sleeping.
He was a demanding pain in the ass, but he wasn’t without his merits. He cooked breakfast after we jogged back from the gym every morning the following week, and there were days when I was almost too stubborn to eat anything.Almost.
Aside from him cleaning (and confusing the fuck out of my housekeeper by flashing her, paying her, and sending her home) and fixing things (and making comments about my useless brothers), we didn’t talk about much more than my Netflix queue.
He started waiting outside my office in the evenings to walk me home. It was really fucking reckless, considering Lauren was a frequent visitor at Walsh Associates and she still didn’t know he was in town, but I liked that he cared about me, even when I was shutting him out.
It reminded me of something I’d do.
Chapter Twenty-Two
WILL
Will:Do you like peas?
Will:I can’t remember you ever eating peas
Shannon:Like, green peas?
Will:Is there another color?
Shannon:Would you like me to delegate that to my research assistant? It’s not necessary for her to finish the property line analysis she’s working on. I’m not waiting on that to file a conveyance or anything
Will:No. just tell me whether you like peas.
Shannon:I don’t dislike them.
