Page 46 of Misadventures of a Biker

“Before you ask… The paint has to be paid for if the home sells for within ninety-five percent of ask. If it does, it’s twelve thousand five hundred. If not, it’s free.”

“Twelve grand for paint? That’s nothing.”

“This place will sell now.” He looked at me in wonder. “Don’t you think?”

“If it doesn’t, I’ll be shocked,” I admitted. “Doing it in less than forty days might be tough.”

“Get new pictures taken and do an email blast,” he said. “That ought to help.”

I laughed. “What do you know about email blasts?”

“More than I should. I’ve been doing some reading.” He put his hands on his hips and admired the work. “I like it.”

I didn’t like it. I loved it. I looked at him and smiled. “You’ve got good taste.”

He smirked. “Conceited much?”

“I meant the house.”

“Oh. Thank you.” His gaze floated around the room. “My father used to build homes just like this. Some were thirty-thousand square feet. He didn’t actually build them, I guess. He had them built.”

I knew his father had passed away, but I didn’t know what happened to the company. “Is his company still around?”

“No. It was named Stone-Wall Builders. Cliff Stone and my father, Daniel Wallace. After he died, it became Riverstone or Rambling Stone or something. Cliff retired and sold it a few years ago.”

I’d heard of, sold, and admired countless Stone-Wall homes. I couldn’t believe it. “Holy shit,” I declared. “I bet I’ve sold more than a dozen of his homes. I had no idea.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“There’s one off Pine Ridge, on that winding street that goes all the way to Lowdermilk Beach…” He rubbed his temples. “I can’t think of the name now.”

“Crayton?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Crayton. I worked on that house when I was in high school, as a carpenter’s assistant. It was my first one. I was sixteen.”

“Oh, wow. There’s some nice homes on Crayton.”

“He built several along there. As soon as he got done with one, someone else would want one. They ended up picking up another crew and then another. By the time I was twenty-five, there were three crews going at all times.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I did.”

“Well, there’s nothing to say you can’t go back sometime.”

“For now”—he glanced around the kitchen—“I’ll stay right where I am.”

I hoped he never left. I realized one day he might, but I didn’t want to think about it happening. It seemed like my thoughts of late had been a bunch of ridiculousness, but since our decision to see one another, I’d been happier than I ever remembered being. Admitting it seemed cliché for a woman in a rebound relationship.

“If I’ve been single for a year, is this a rebound relationship?” I asked.

He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know what the timeline is for qualifications, but I’d say not.”

“Good. I want this relationship to be for all the right reasons.”

“I think it is,” he said. “We’ve cleared quite a few hurdles to get here, that’s for sure. I was prepared to butt-fuck you just to teach you a lesson after that meeting.”