Love Shack (Tiny Houses, Big Hearts)

by Roxy Mews

  He handed her a glass half filled with wine and sipped his own while he put away the rest of the perishables.

  “There’s not much here, even if I struggle, I think I’ll figure it out pretty quick.” He motioned to her nearly filled to bursting open shelving. “I thought you said you didn’t entertain?”

  Felicity really didn’t want to say that she’d gone out and bought new dishes so that she had more than one of everything. It was never something she’d needed before. He made it sound like a bad thing. “I have friends.”

  “Don’t get offended, that’s not what I said. I just thought wine glasses were a bit of a splurge for a minimalist.” He did that evaluating squint she’d seen on his face at the bank. “You just bought all this.”

  “No,” she lied.

  Brandon turned away from her and started flipping over all the plates and bowls. Pulling out the items she’d acquired just last night, he held out a bowl to her. A sticker was still stuck on the bottom. Damn.

  “How do you keep the stickers on it if it’s not new?”

  She tried to snatch the bowl from him, but being that he was so tall, he just held it up higher. When he bumped the low ceiling, he held it behind himself.

  “So I bought a few things.” Felicity tried to reach around him, but he just did a quick spin and put the bowl away.

  “I’ll reimburse you for any of the items you bought for me. I know you’re trying to get a business off the ground.”

  Felicity downed the wine. She usually only drank out of her coffee mug. There was something sensual about twirling the slim stem of the glassware between her fingers. The glasses had some multi-colored dots that swirled toward the base. She followed the dots with a delicate touch. She might keep these even if she donated the rest of the dishes to Goodwill after this was over. She needed something decadent in her life.

  That thought brought her eyes up to her guest. Something made him look at her, and just for a moment she thought he was going to get this whole lifestyle.

  “So I was thinking if we get something worked out on your business plan, we might be able to get this set up to last a week instead of a month.”

  Or he was just working an angle. This was the first time Felicity had had anyone spend the night in her home. She was already self-conscious. Now she was losing the few nerves she had left. She poured a full glass of wine this time.

  “Are you going to spend the entire time here working on how to get out of the bet?”

  “You can’t want me here for a whole month.”

  Felicity pushed him out of the kitchen.

  He finally dug in his heels when she got him closer to the storage steps that led to the bedroom. “If you kick me out, you automatically forfeit you know.”

  “I’m just moving you out of my way.” Felicity grabbed the half apron she had hanging in the broom-sized cubby beneath the stairs. “If you are going to be obsessed with plotting and planning, I’m going to have to make dinner.”

  “Maybe I’ll just eat the gelato.” He grumbled.

  Felicity grabbed the spatula that hung on the side of her cabinet and rushed over with it held high. His eyes locked onto the royal blue slatted tool.

  “If you don’t eat dinner, you don’t get dessert.”

  With that, she spun around and started a pan heating on the stove to work up a quick lemon butter sauce for the fish.

  Chapter Twelve

  Brandon watched her hips sway. Her curves were framed by the tails of her apron strings. He had the biggest urge to tug on them.

  He didn’t get what her problem was, but he put down the wine glass because he was going to get into big trouble if he lowered his inhibitions too much.

  This woman was nothing like the ones he met through his online dating profile, and that had to be the reason he was so aroused around her. She was novel. A new song started on her tablet and, even with only a small speaker, the space filled with the beat. She sang along. Off key. And even that was cute.

  “Where can I go to make a private call?” he asked.

  She danced in a circle. Had she refilled her wine glass again?

  “The only privacy in this place is the bathroom and outside.” She laid the fish they’d bought into the small pan and it sizzled.

  The bathroom was behind her, right off the galley kitchen. She probably wouldn’t have been able to hear him over the background noise, but he wasn’t willing to take the chance. He went outside.

  Brandon woke the device and scrolled past his boss at the top of his auto-call list. It took a while to find the person he wanted to talk to. Brandon didn’t talk to his sister enough.

  “Little brother! I told you to sit down and eat. You are not playing Minecraft at the dinner table. Don’t dunk your green beans in the milk either. So what’s going on?”

  He was pretty sure only the first and the last part of that verbal stream was meant for him. This was why he didn’t usually call his sister. All of their phone calls seemed to last ten times longer than necessary, because she was constantly pulled in a million directions by all the kids she’d had the misfortune to want.

  “Is there any chance I can talk to you for a minute?” he asked.

  “If you want me to give you undivided attention, you either need bailed out of jail, or someone’s dead. Otherwise you know you should have called after bedtime.”

  He put a hand on his forehead. “I just need some advice on how to be patient, and I figured I could practice while listening to you yell at your children.”

  He heard some crinkling and muffled rumbling. “Okay. I have left the kids alone to go in my room, so you have about six minutes to talk before my house burns down.”

  “Have you seen the news?”

  “Unless it airs on Nick Junior, no.”

  “I’m living in a tiny house with this woman, and I need someone to remind me how I get myself into idiotic situations. I figured you were the person to call.”

  His sister laughed. How she had any energy to laugh with four kids he had no idea. He’d babysat for her one night and had to take the next day off work to sleep off the effects, and wash off the permanent marker mustache they’d drawn on his upper lip.

  “You must really love this chick to downsize. I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.”

  “Whoa. No. I don’t love anyone. It’s a…well, I guess it was a bet, or a goodwill gesture…” Brandon pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe you don’t watch the news.”

  “Yeah…then I could be as happy as you are. You’re down to four minutes.”

  Brandon turned and saw Felicity dancing around in the kitchen. Her curls were bouncing in and out of view of the high windows.

  “I think I’m in over my head and it’s a new experience for me. Any advice on how to adapt?”

  “Little brother, you don’t adapt. Ever. That’s why you’re so frustrating to be around.”

  Why he thought his sister would help was beyond him. “Well this has been completely deflating. Thanks.”

  “You interrupt worse than my five year old. Shut up for a second, I can hear stuff hitting the floor in the other room.”

  Brandon kept his mouth shut, but ground his teeth in protest.

  “You have never been the type of person to bend to rules you didn’t understand. You only follow rules you see a clear reason for. If you have to do something you don’t agree with, maybe try and find out why. And if you still don’t agree with it, you’ve always been the type to take the lead. Isn’t that why you got into management in the first place?”

  Now he remembered why he called her. “So I should take control of the situation?”

  “You’re bound to do it anyway, might as well start now.” The volume of the background noise increased. “Will you get the spaghetti off the wall?”

  Brandon attempted to say goodbye, but his sister more or less just tried to control her children until he hung up.

  When he turned around, there was smoke coming fr
om the open kitchen windows. He rushed inside.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Felicity turned on the small fan in the kitchen. It was a miracle she didn’t have more damage in her house with how easily it filled with smoke when she cooked. She could have used vegetable oil instead of olive to reduce the smoking, but she didn’t like the taste. A fan and propping open the windows was a small price to pay for tasty food.

  “Where’s your fire extinguisher?”

  She turned to feel a hand grab her upper arm and yank. She had just enough time to put her wine glass down on the counter as Brandon pulled her in and looped an arm under her legs. Her hands grabbed his shoulders for some stability as he rushed her outside.

  “What are you doing?” She would have pushed away, but she’d had a little too much wine and he was moving really fast.

  “Where is your fire extinguisher, and what caught fire?”

  Guess he didn’t smoke up his house when he cooked. “It’s just a little smoky from the oil in the pan. I opened the windows to ventilate.”

  “So there’s no fire?”

  “There will be if you don’t let me get back to the fish on the stove.”

  He put her down a little fast, and Felicity kicked herself for wobbling on her feet.

  “Are you okay?” He held her face in his palms and made her look into his eyes. “If you wear contacts that much smoke is going to irritate your cornea.”

  She tried to look somewhere else, but he wouldn’t have it, and wouldn’t release her until she stared right at him. “I’m fine. Can I go inside and not burn dinner?”

  He put a hand under her elbow and made sure she got up the step okay before complaining any more.

  “You don’t have to burn the place down to cook. We can order in. I’ll pay.” He looked around. “If you had a vent hood like a real kitchen, this wouldn’t happen.”

  Luckily, when she rushed back inside, the fish was done to perfection. While he told her everything else she needed to do to make her home a “real” house, Felicity hummed along with the music to try and tune him out. She pulled the fish out of the pan and set it aside. Using her tongs to grab the pasta from the colander, she tossed it in the buttery sauce with a bit of lemon juice and parmesan cheese.

  Good lord, he was still yammering away.

  Felicity took a fork, flaked off a piece of the gently browned perch, and swirled on just a bit of pasta to make the perfect bite. When he opened his mouth again she shoved the delicious morsel straight into his yap.

  He sputtered around the fork for a second, but she arched a brow, and he took the food like a good boy and did something with his mouth other than complain for a change.

  “Mmmm.” He chewed a bit more and swallowed. “That’s really good.”

  “Not bad, considering it’s not a real kitchen,” she reminded him as she finished plating the food.

  “Look, I’m not the most tactful person at times. I was on emergency mode. I thought the house was on fire.” He looked around. “And I’d offer to set the table, but you don’t have one.”

  Felicity took a deep breath. She had to look at this as a challenge. It was even more so one now as she was a bit inebriated. She could show him how to live with what he needed, and he could show her how to talk to people with money and pretend like she didn’t have a chip on her shoulder about it. This was going to work out in both their favors—they just needed to get through the bumpy spots first.

  She refilled her wine glass and topped off his to empty the bottle. Bumpy spots were easier with wine.

  “The wine is already gone?” He eyed her a bit.

  “I spilled some when you came barging in here.” Sure, she’d spilled it into her glass and down her throat, but he didn’t need to know those details.

  “Sorry again about that.”

  If he could be a bigger person, so could she. “Don’t worry about it. I have to realize this will be an adjustment for you too. Want me to show you how to work the table and chairs?”

  “I’ll be the best behaved student you’ve ever had, ma’am.”

  Felicity giggled at the idea of this man who was so much larger than she was promising to be a good boy. Her mind wandered into completely inappropriate parallels, and she shook herself for a second and cleared her throat before she showed him how the small table actually slid out from the staircase. She grabbed the support legs from the broom closet and pointed to the folding chairs hanging on the wall.

  “If you pull those down for me, I’ll grab the food.”

  He ran his hand along the solid wood slab of the table instead. It was beetle wood and had some amazing blue veining running through it. “This is beautiful.”

  Felicity enjoyed the first real compliment he’d given her about her home that didn’t have a backhanded insult attached to it. “It was probably the most expensive piece I had made when the place was first built, but I loved the idea of having coffee at this little table every morning, and I went for it. Since it was so small, the cost was still cheaper than most breakfast tables you could buy free standing.”

  He set up the chairs and grabbed their wine glasses as they both sat down to dinner. “I guess that’s one good thing about a smaller home. You don’t have to buy things as big, so the materials cost is lower.”

  Felicity nearly vibrated in her seat. She put her fork down and used her napkin to wipe her mouth off before she leaned in. “Yes. The fine details are what this type of home can create. People who enjoy fine materials and fine accessories can have all of that in a small space. The materials need to cover far less surface, so instead of a change of countertop or tile costing hundreds or thousands of dollars, it can be just a couple bucks more to get into really top notch materials.” She gulped a bit more wine. “And because the amounts we need for our projects are usually so minor, we can also buy remnants of larger home remodels at an absolute steal. The contractors know that they don’t have enough to work into another home, or perhaps they had a cut error with their stone, and have a piece they would otherwise have to trash.”

  Felicity hopped up and went to the quartz countertop she had around her sink. “This whole thing cost me fifty dollars including installation.”

  “They installed it for you too?” He turned to look at her, but stayed where he was to gobble up more of the fish.

  “I towed my home over to the home improvement store, and did a small talk with interested people about construction of tiny homes. I didn’t have any of the appliances in yet, so all of my plumbing and electrical was visible. Most of the contractors came for the novelty, but I made some contacts with people who have implemented some of the techniques. And Tom—I mentioned him in my business plan. He’s the one I plan to use for my construction projects here.”

  Felicity realized one of her favorite fish dishes was getting cold so she slid back into her chair to eat it.

  “I have to admit, you do have a complete business plan set up.”

  She hurried through her bite. “Then why wouldn’t you give me the loan when I asked?”

  Brandon savored every morsel and took his time responding. Something about him had changed, and instead of teaching him about her life, she felt like he was trying to teach her how to better live it. “It’s marketing.”

  “I had marketing budget built into the plan.”

  “No. You had flyers, and talks, and visits. You still would have to sell people on the idea that this…” He waved his arm around in a tight circle. “That this is a house.”

  “This isn’t a house.”

  He leaned back. “Well, I guess I’m glad you’re finally seeing the light, although I’m a bit surprised—”

  “You didn’t let me finish.” She stood up again. “This isn’t just a house. This is a home. When people build their giant houses, and rent their big apartments, they have spaces that they decorate for everyone else. Hell, many people even hire decorators.”

  Brandon frowned. Felicity flinched seeing she’d hit a nerve. She
guessed he was one of those many.

  “But every inch of this home is about me. It’s all designed so that I can live my life outside of this house and come home to all the little bits that make me proud to call it mine. No, it doesn’t have to work for everyone, but it works perfectly for me. I can take all this perfection with me, and just go.”

  “I didn’t sign up for a road trip in this thing. That would be kidnapping.”

  Felicity stuck out her tongue at him. “Joke all you want. I’ve got a whole month to get the beauty of tiny living pounded into your thick extravagance-minded skull. You aren’t the only one who has the ability to get people to see things your way.”

  They ate the rest of their dinner in silence. Felicity realized they weren’t going to make any more progress dragging her guest into the tiny house lifestyle that night.

  She explained that a dishwasher was not a necessary piece of home equipment, and hands and a sponge worked just as well. She’d had to sacrifice the dishwasher to have enough room to fit her full sized refrigerator and wine rack. Usually, she just cleaned up after herself, and since she always had wine in the house she figured she’d made the right choice.

  As Brandon complained loudly about doing manual labor, she contemplated opening another bottle, but with how loud he was grumbling, she figured a headache would not mesh well with his voice in the morning. She moved the wine from the freezer into the cooler. That would be tomorrow’s treat.

  “I almost forgot. There’s a game on tonight. Where’s your TV?” He dropped the wet dishtowel on the counter.

  Felicity picked it up and hung it on the loop next to the sink to let the fabric air out. “I don’t have one.”

  “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “I don’t watch much television, and what I am interested in, I find on Hulu or Netflix. I can pull up something on my computer or tablet if you want to watch a show.”

  “I want to watch the game.”