It feltgoodto have an actual friend again. “We’ll see if I’m free this weekend,” she answered with a smile.
* * *
She looked taller than she had before as she approached, more in control. He wasn’t sure if that was an entirely good sign—for him, at least. On the other hand, the two beers she held definitely were. A peace offering. Or more like a consolation prize? ASorry, dumb-ass, you lose, but how about a beer?
By the time she rolled up and handed him the bottle, he’d worked himself into such a state, he slugged it down embarrassingly fast.
“Whoa. Guess you were thirsty,” she said with that crooked smile he liked so much. “Working hard, I see.” She sat on the step beside him, mirroring the position she’d had with his sister moments ago.
Jessie.He’d told her not to get involved, but the little brat couldn’t keep her nose out of his business. Well, it had gotten Uma over here, so he could probably forgive her.
“Yeah. Tryin’ to get the place ready.”
“You finally moving into the big house?”
“Maybe. Depends.” He couldn’t possibly look at her. “Sort of waitin’ to hear from a possible…tenant. Or roommate, I guess you could say.”
“Oh yeah?” She smiled again, only this time her flirtatiousness came out a little more. He liked this side of Uma: a little flirty, a little bossy.
“Figured my proposal has a very slight chance of being accepted.”
“Hmm.” She stood up, filled with purpose, pushing the boss role a little bit further. “You owe me a tour. Show me around.”
His answering grin felt good on his lips—God, days without talking, and he’d missed the hell out of her. “Yes, ma’am.”
They went up the front steps, and he tried to see it through her eyes: perfectly finished, pristine paint job, not a fallen leaf or speck of dirt underfoot. He knew she’d notice the other details too, with her photographer’s eyes: the wavy glass in the windows, original to the house; the perfectly fitted, working shutters; and copper gutters. The only thing out of place was the big punching bag hung where a porch swing should have been. Maybe they’d look for one of those together.
No. No point getting his hopes up. They hadn’t talked it through yet. It could still go either way.
He opened the door, and she hesitated beside him, one foot suspended above the welcome mat. The mat looked too clean. He could see that. He’d just bought it, after all. Okay, he could fix that. To prove some weird point, he scuffed his boots all over the letters before stepping through.
Once inside, Uma’s breath caught on a strangled gasp.Oh no.She hated it. Or even worse, she thought he was certifiable for having a place like this.
Because, let’s face it, the house was a little sterile. Like Whoville licked clean by the Grinch. Not a stick of furniture, not a tchotchke or gewgaw in sight. The walls were painted a stark, glaring white.
Nothing else.
When her breathing went back to a normal sort of rhythm, he dared to look at her, just a slide of the eyes, but long enough to catch her look.
“Oh, Ivan,” she whispered, brown eyes glowing in the fading light. “It’s beautiful.”
Thank God.
Again, he squinted and tried to see it from her perspective, how it really was, without the layers of garbage he’d shoveled out, the paint he’d sanded off, all the hours of work he’d put into it.
The house was grand. Its ceiling floated high above their heads. Every breathtaking detail: trim, newel post, every stair tread polished to a shine. Crown molding that, like the window glass, was original to the house. And utterly still. So quiet you could hear a pin drop.
All that was missing was a little life.
Love.
He followed her into the first room on the right. The parlor.
After an initial, soundlessoh, she started talking. Finally.
“Needs color. Something warm, maybe an earthy gold. And plantation blinds for privacy, but no curtains. You wouldn’t want to cut out any of this amazing light.” She moved to the center of the room, facing the fireplace, and he might have imagined something proprietary in her step.
“Oh, Squeak would love an area rug there, in front of the fire. And the cats. Cats love a good rug, so it would have to be big.” Her eyes flicked to his, burning with excitement. “An armchair there, large enough for you, Ivan.”
