She looked at him.“You say ‘we’ like it is already done.”
“It is already done.”He set a hand on the empty air where her desk would live.“You said toothbrush.I heard roots.”
That got the smallest laugh out of her.She toed an invisible rectangle.“A rug would help.Not white.”
“Not white,” he echoed.“We’ll bring up the gray one from the spare room for now.”
“Practical.”She nodded once, decision locked.“Let’s move the racks and claim the corner.If I see it empty, I’ll keep it.”
They spent the next twenty minutes hauling stands and coils down the stairs, the kind of mindless work that broke tension without breaking focus.Sean met them at the bottom on the last run.
“You two building an office or a fortress?”he asked, grabbing a stand from Jami’s arms.
“Both,” Jami said.“You’ll thank me when you stop tripping over these.”
Sean set the stand by the door.“Fair point.”He looked up at the loft.“She is really doing it?”
“She is.”Pride crept in before he could stop it.
“Good.”Sean clapped his shoulder.“You write better when your head is where your feet live.”
They cleared the corner and rolled the gray rug from the spare room over the planks.It softened the echo.Carlene stood with her hands on her hips and turned in a slow circle, checking the sight lines like a director.
“This will work,” she said.
“It already does.”He reached into his pocket.“One more thing.”
She faced him, wary and hopeful at the same time.He held the small gold key in his palm.Not dramatic.Not a speech.Just metal and use.
He didn’t move his hand closer.He let her reach for it, then closed her fingers around the cool weight.
“Top lock,” he said.“Back door, too.”
Her throat worked.She slid the key into the side pocket of her jeans and tapped it once, as if to be sure it was real.“Okay.”
He grinned."Before we officially set things up, let's get Quinn here to refinish the floors, build the shelves, desk, file cabinets, anything you need.And I thought we could add a bathroom across the room above the downstairs bathroom.It should be easy to run the plumbing.That way you don't have to run downstairs each time."
The smile that graced her beautiful face was stunning."Thank you, Jami.You'll make me never want to leave."
His brows rose."I see my evil plan is working already."
They went back down.Music called them.Work met them.The afternoon blurred into takes and quick fixes and the comfortable shorthand that lived between people who trusted one another.Every time he glanced toward the bar, he found her building something steady out of lines and images.
At five-thirty, they broke.Axel stretched his back and checked the clock.“If we start a new track now, we’ll be here all night.”
“We won’t,” Jami said.“Let's table it.We'll start fresh tomorrow.”
He crossed the room to Carlene.She had the reel queued and the caption set.Six o’clock glowed in the corner of the screen like a quiet promise.
“You ready?”she asked.
“I like what you wrote.”He touched the words but didn’t change them.“It sounds like us.”
“That was the goal.”She checked the time.“We have a few minutes.”
“Come outside.”
They stepped outside, and he led her across the yard to the house.He stopped at his truck and pulled her suitcase from inside.She chuckled and grabbed her toiletries and small items.Stepping onto the wrap-around porch, his stomach flipped.The boards underfoot held the day’s heat.He pulled the door open and held it for Carlene.The moment she stepped inside, his heart swelled.He hadn't lived with anyone in years.Not since his divorce.But he felt ready.
