Kelsi’s mouth was agape as she took everything in, likely trying to reconcile the condition of the home now versus the last time she had seen it. It had been in bad shape from Mr. Waltersliving here by himself for so long with no one to help him with basic repairs and upkeep. Kelsi and Dylan had helped him as much as they could when they’d been in school, but, when they left for college, Dylan knew he’d be on his own again.
“If not for Mr. Walters, then who?”
He had a sudden flash of nerves, and he braced himself for her response. “For me, Kelsi. I bought this place.”
Her eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline. “You? You bought Pembrooke?” She looked toward the living room and said, almost as an afterthought, “I didn’t even know this place was for sale.”
“That’s because it never officially went on the market.” He shrugged. “Years ago, I told his family that if they ever decided to sell it, I wanted to be their first call. A few months ago, before the accident overseas even happened, they called and said Mr. Walters wasn’t able to live on his own anymore. They were moving him down to be closer to relatives in Florida. They asked if I’d be willing to pay fair market value for the house, and next thing I knew I was a homeowner. It needed a lot of work, of course, which is why they were willing to sell below what they probably could’ve gotten if they’d listed it, but I think it’s coming along well, at least so far.”
She swung her gaze to him, a small smile playing across her lips. “I’d say it’s going a little more than well, Dylan. It looks amazing so far, and exactly how I would have done it! I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished and furnished.” Her expression turned wistful, and he knew where her mind had gone.
As teens, they’d talked about how this was her dream home. She had a Pinterest board dedicated to the place, which, truthfully, Dylan had been looking at for making his decisions on style choices. He’d told the family that he wanted to buy thehome a couple weeks before he graduated law school, when he realized he was in love with her. At that time, he hadn’t known whether she reciprocated his feelings or not, or if she ever would, but he knew he wanted to give her her dream home. When he came by on weekends to help Mr. Walters, he’d pictured their lives together in the home.
His favorite visions played on a loop in his mind. Kelsi, in the kitchen with her hair tied in a messy bun on the top of her head and a cup of coffee in her hand. The sun rising over the water behind her from the view out the library’s bay windows. Two kids, a boy and a girl, each with their mother’s green eyes and freckles and his wavy chocolate-brown hair, squealed and ran across the yard with two golden retrievers barking joyfully after them. Kelsi, standing on the end of the dock at sunrise, one hand on her rounded belly and her other outstretched toward him.
Everything he could ever dream, hope, and want—in one place. He wanted to give her everything. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. She was playing with the charm at the end of her necklace, eyes unfocused as she stared off at nothing in particular, lost in her own thoughts. He hoped they were the same as his.
He gave her a grin, flashing a dimple, and said, “Do you want a tour? It’s not finished yet, obviously, but I can show you what I’ve done so far.”
She smiled softly at him, genuinely. “I’d like that a lot.”
He was floored by that smile, in his home. Their home. It smacked him in the face, how much he wanted those dreams to become his future. Clearing his throat, which was suddenly a little too narrow to breathe properly, he nodded. “Right, follow me.”
Room to room, he showed her the progress he’d made. Kelsi considered it all thoughtfully, praising his technique and offering suggestions on what colors would complement the rooms best based on the direction the sun came in, or what type of wood might best accent the fixtures. He made mental notes as she did so, cataloging all her suggestions as to-dos.
Finally, they stopped in the main bedroom. He saw the moment her gaze snagged on his bed, and her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. He wished he could read her thoughts, to see what deliciously naughty ideas his bed gave her.
Dylan hadn’t made his bed that morning, and the pillows and sheets were strewn haphazardly across the mattress in a way that suggested passionate lovemaking. He stepped closer, until he could smell her coconut and vanilla scent that he was growing addicted to.
“So, Red. What do you think of my bedroom?”
Her throat bobbed as she gulped, stepping away from him. “It’s, ah—” Her gaze flitted nervously around the room. “Oh, wow, that is a gorgeous dresser. Is it an antique?”
She darted quickly over to the dresser in question. It was a simple wooden two-columned dresser, waist high and the width of his king bed, with three drawers to each column. He had thrown out the handles it came with and replaced them with rustic knobs, then sanded and repainted the dresser a dusky bluish gray.
He had to disguise his chuckle with a fake cough. “Actually,” he began, “I bought it from IKEA. I repainted it and replaced the doorknobs with ones I found at an antique store.”
Her face burned, and he fought not to laugh again.
“Right,” she said, avoiding eye contact with him. “Well, it turned out great. Is this the last room you had to show me?”
“It is. Why, did you want to hang out in here for a bit?”
She narrowed her eyes at him, and he fought to maintain an innocent expression on his face.
“No, I actually wanted to get to why I came to find you on a Saturday.”
He accepted her change of subject, amused but more than a little disappointed she hadn’t taken the bait. “Sure, want to grab a drink and we can sit on the dock to chat?”
She looked relieved and moved quickly out of the room and down the stairs, retracing their path through the house to return to the main floor. Dylan followed slower, smiling to himself at her hasty retreat, and went to the kitchen. He grabbed a can of Cherry Coke from the fridge for her and poured himself a glass of unsweet iced tea.
When he held the can out to her, she looked at him in surprise. “Cherry Coke? You hate Cherry Coke. Why do you have it?”
He shrugged, knowing that what he said next would give away everything he’d been hiding for so long, but to hell with lying to them both any longer. “You don’t.”
CHAPTER 29
Kelsi
