“Are you sure?”she asked, hiding a smile.“It’s a six-drawer Hemnes.”
Nick feigned horror.“Damn, woman.Anything but a Hemnes.”He chuckled.“I create decks for a living.I think I can handle your drawers, I mean, your dresser.”Jesus, Nick!
“Well, only if you let me buy you dinner.I can order takeout.”
“All right.Let’s do this.”
Nick grabbed his toolbox from his truck, on the off chance the Allen key didn’t do the trick.They walked across the field separating the sanctuary from the farmhouse, mostly in silence.She’d crossed her arms over her chest, and he hoped it wasn’t because she was uncomfortable with him.He didn’t want to come off as some sort of creeper.
In his line of work, he’d had to enter the homes of many women who were on their own, and he was conscious of not looking intimidating.Some of his friends had told him horror stories about service guys who’d entered their homes to fix the cable or the plumbing, and who’d said inappropriate things about their looks or the fact that ‘hubby wasn’t home’.Nick had always gone out of his way to keep his distance and be polite and professional.
He tried not to read too much into Claire’s body language.Lots of people crossed their arms over their chests.Even though he had a bizarre urge to gently pry them away from her body and tuck her hand in his, he obviously couldn’t.
If she decided to throw up a wall between them, it was her right to do so.Her walls weren’t his to demolish.She might not welcome him trying.
He had enough of his own to worry about.
Still, as quiet as it was, he never felt like he had to make stupid small talk.It was nice just being in the open field with her, the blue sky above them, the summer grass a soft pad under their feet.
As they approached her home, he found his words again.“Your house…it’s stunning.”
Claire lived in a classic red brick farmhouse that had an addition built in the back.It had loads of original charm, with a wraparound porch, gingerbread detailing and a stained-glass window on the second floor.Surrounded by mature trees, it looked like something out of his mom’s favorite old-timey painting.It was a large home, sprawling even.
Did she ever get lonely in the big, old house?
“Thanks.It dates from 1905.It belonged to a farmer, back in the day, but when he died, his family sold it.Arthur’s parents got lucky and snapped it up.It was always well-maintained so I’ve never had to do much.Arthur got it as part of his inheritance.I know it’s a lot of house, even for two people, but neither of us could bear to sell it.”
“I can see why.”Nick lived on Runnymede Road in Toronto’s west end.Although his street boasted many heritage buildings, they were puny compared to this one.He’d always loved old houses, and hoped he could move out of his nineteen-sixties bungalow into something like this one day.
“Come on in.”
She opened the unlocked door and held it for him.He bristled at the idea that she kept it unlocked.Sure, she lived out in the country, a few yards away from her work, but it didn’t mean someone couldn’t slip in when she wasn’t around.The suspicious city dweller in him tucked the detail away, hoping he could broach it later.
Nick slipped off his work boots and stepped into the living area, hoping upon hope his socks didn’t reek.Claire removed her rubber boots as well.On her feet, she wore socks with a picture of a cartoon lady in a bathrobe drinking coffee.He smiled.“Nice socks.”
“My sister bought them.She jokes about my passion for coffee.Can I get you a drink?”
“Just some water, please.”
She disappeared into the kitchen to get his water.Nick took the opportunity to look around the living room.Although the home was an old one, the interior appeared to have been updated in the recent past.No lace doilies or flock wallpaper in this place.The lines were cleaner and more modern, and the furnishings were neutral.
However, there were several antique items scattered here and there.He spied a few Queen Anne chairs in the dining room.An old wooden console radio, the sort that looked like a cabinet, stood on the floor.He was pretty sure the china cabinet was antique too.
She returned, holding two large glasses of icy water.She handed one to him and clinked his glass against hers.“Congratulations on your new show.”
“Thanks.”
They drank, glancing over the tops of their glasses at each other.
An image popped into Nick’s head, one of him taking an ice cube from the glass and slowly trailing it from Claire’s full lips, down her neck, toward her cleavage.
Shit.Where did that come from?
“You, um, have a really nice place.”
“If I’d known I was going to have a TV star over, I would have dusted.”
“It’s fine.I feel badly because I’m a sweaty mess.”
