“We haven’t discussed your fee,” she says, pouring me a fresh cup of tea.
“Oh, there isn’t a fee. You’re a friend and neighbor, and it’s not like I’m an actual interior designer. I don’t have any qualifications yet.”
“Could’ve fooled me, pet.” She pours milk into her tea before handing the jug to me. “I hired this woman back in Ireland to redesign my hall, sitting room, and dining room, and she wasn’t half as professional as you. I paid her a set fee for the work, sojust think about what would be a fair fee and come back to me on it.”
I shake my head. “I can’t take money from you, Roni. It wouldn’t feel right.”
“You can’t work for nothing, Astrid. Know your worth. You don’t need an interior design qualification to be an interior designer. I bet that woman I hired had no official training, and it didn’t stop her trying to charge me a fortune for subpar work.”
“This will be the basis of my final assignment for my technical design course, and the experience I’ll get working on a project of this size will really help when I start college. Trust me, I’m getting a lot out of this. I don’t need any money.”
“You’re as stubborn as my son,” she mumbles as the front door opens and closes in rapid succession. “Let’s just agree to park it for now.”
“Roni, honestly, it’s fine. You don’t need to pay me. I volunteered to do it.”
“Ma, can you—” Callan halts midsentence when he appears in the doorway and spots me. His feet are bare, he’s only wearing black training shorts, and his hair is damp from working out.
My eyes widen as my gaze roams over his naked upper body. Holy fuck. Is it hot in here, or is it just me? There is no doubting Callan’s dedication to his sport when you see his broad shoulders, toned chest, defined abs, and muscular arms.
Heat floods my cheeks when I realize Roni is staring at her son and me, her gaze bouncing back and forth, and she’s clearly fighting a smile.
“Astrid. I, ah, didn’t know you’d be here.” Callan lifts a hand to scratch the back of his head. His deep, gruff voice does funny things to my insides, and the sight of all those rippling, bulging muscles when he moves his arm is sending delicious tremors shooting all over my body. Is this normal, or am I coming down with a fever?
“Astrid called over to talk about the house. We’ve had the best chat, and I’m so excited for all our plans,” Roni explains. “Did you need something? What were you going to say?”
“Can you wash my gym gear ASAP?” he asks, swooping down to pick up a black sports bag. “It fucking reeks.”
“Callan, mind your language in front of our guest.”
“It’s cool,” I say as I gather up my things. “Every second word out of my mom’s mouth is a cuss word. These ears aren’t sensitive.”
Callan smirks before striding into the kitchen.
“Glad it’s not just our family,” Roni quips, setting the empty plates and cups back on the tray.
“I should get going. I promised Mom I’d make dinner because she has to work late tonight.” Owning your own business often means working longer hours, if both my parents are any indication. I hug my tablet and notepad to my chest.
“Don’t rush off on my account,” Callan says, coming back into the dining room with a water bottle in hand.
Leaning against the doorjamb, he pierces me with an intense look I feel all the way to the tips of my toes. Little beads of sweat cling to his brow and his bare chest, and I swear my ovaries swoon. He is so fucking hot, and I don’t think he even realizes it. I get why all the girls are going gaga for him at school. I cannot think of a single guy in the senior class who is even half as hot as Callan. Add his charisma, talent, and gorgeous accent to the mix, and no other guy stands a chance against him.
“I have to grab a shower and make food before I start my homework,” he says.
“I have homework and studying to do, too, and we were finished here anyway.”
“Sound,” he says before lifting his water bottle to his mouth and tipping his head back.
Even that is sexy, and I need to get out of here before I self-combust in front of Callan and his mom.
“I’ll get started on everything this week, and I should be able to get it back to you in about ten days,” I tell Roni.
“Take your time, honey. There’s no rush, and like I said, we’re already planning to work on the porch this weekend.”
Callan scowls as he pushes off the door and straightens up.
“I can help on Sunday morning before I head to my shift if you like.”
“An extra pair of hands would be great,” she says, casting a quick glance in her son’s direction. “But only if you’re sure. I know you’re busy.”
