After Bryce is tucked into bed, I get cleaned up and crawl into my own bed. I grab my laptop and pull up YouTube, deciding I need to learn some basic carpentry skills since I intend on helping with the restoration. I figure it’ll only help get the job done that much faster, and I’ll love the outcome that much more knowing that my own blood, sweat, and tears went into the project. I hope the contractor doesn’t mind that I intend on being involved in every aspect of the project.
After learning about drywall, how to tile, and how to do some minor electrical work, I close the computer and slouch down into bed. Sleep takes me immediately.
4
Clay
I wake up before the sun rises, and I go to the kitchen to brew myself some coffee. I fill the pot up with water and pour it into the back of the coffee pot before going to shower for the day. My coffee pot is old and it takes forever to brew a pot. At least this way, it should be almost done by the time I get out. I don’t bother with shaving. I just step into the shower and wash off, not wasting any time. Today is my meeting with Autumn. This place isn’t even mine, but I’m excited to see her vision for it. I hope to God she’s not the “I want everything updated” type. There’s nothing worse than finding a beautiful house and wanting it stripped of everything that makes it beautiful. If I have to hear “modern” one more time, I’ll pull my hair out.
All these people want to buy these old properties because they have such rich history, but then they want to tear everything out and fill an authentic country home full of modern-day technology. A woman called me the other day wanting a smart home. I laughed and hung up without another word. Don’t people see that the more electronics you shove into a house, the more problems you’re going to have? My house is the way everyone’s should be. The simpler, the better.
I step out of the shower, drying off and getting dressed. I sit on the foot of the bed and pull on my socks and work boots before going in search of coffee. The smell hits my nose before I even make it into the kitchen. I breathe it in deeply as I enter the kitchen and pull out my thermos. I fill the entire thing with coffee and a dash of sugar. Then I grab my gallon of sweet tea out of the fridge and toss it into the cooler as I begin to make lunch.
I fix a couple of sandwiches, pack some homegrown baby carrots, a couple of apples, and the peanut butter cookies that Tessa gave me last night. I put everything into the cooler in sealed containers and head for the truck. I pack enough food to feed an army every day, but half the time, the guys dip into it too. They say I make a better lunch then most of their wives. All but Jerry’s. Jerry’s wife brings him a homemade lunch every day. Sometimes it’s pot roast. Other times, it’s roast beef. Yesterday, it was a whole lasagna. She doesn’t skimp on the sides either. I bet that poor woman doesn’t do anything but cook and clean up all day, every day.
I set the cooler in the footwell of the passenger seat and slam the door closed behind me. The old truck fires up on the first try, and I shift into reverse and head down the mountain. The sun is just starting to rise as I drive toward the farmhouse. The sky has a few lingering clouds from last night’s rainstorm, but the watercolor mixture of yellow, orange, and pink is beautiful nonetheless. Being so early, morning dew is clinging to every leaf, every blade of grass, making it glisten like diamonds when the sun’s rays touches it. I breathe in a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the wet earth. The temperature is cooler with it being early morning, but there is already a thickness in the air due to the dew and rising heat. It’s humid as fuck already.
I drive toward the farmhouse in silence as I sip my coffee. This is one of my favorite times of the day: early when there is nobody else on the road, when the farm animals are just getting up and moving around. There’s something about mornings that let people know that talk isn’t necessary. It’s the only time of day that most can really enjoy the silence without feeling awkward or without feeling like they have to make idle chit-chat.
When I arrive at the property, I shut off the truck and climb out. The sun is peeking over the horizon, shining its bright orange-yellow rays over the land. The tall grass in the distance looks colorless in comparison. The new owner isn’t here yet, but I wanted to get here early. I just wanted a little time alone with the property. I know it sounds weird, but I like to come alone and envision the outcome, get a feel for what this place needs and wants. Also, it gives me time to get my thoughts and ideas in place without being swayed by the owner. A lot of times, they think they know what they want, until I present them with something better. And the reason I have something better is because I take this time to get to know the look and feel of the property. Old, run-down places like this have a story. It’s my job to discover it and bring them back to life.
First, I sit on the step on the front porch and lean against the post, making myself comfortable. I close my eyes. Behind my lids, I see the property as it is now, and then, how it will be. I see the lawn cut down to where it should be. I see the front porch, all repaired, sanded, and painted. I see flowers and shrubs planted along the front. I see the house with a fresh set of paint instead of the peeling white paint that’s on it now. I see a whole new roof and a sign by the drive with the name of the bed-and-breakfast on it. In my vision, the barn is fully finished as well, with a bright red paint and crisp white trim.. I can see horses in there and wondering around the back property.
I open my eyes and I’m right back to where I started. As I sit on the porch, sipping my hot coffee, I make a mental note of all the things I see for this place, all the things that need my attention. I pull out a small tablet of paper from my back pocket and start jotting things down with my carpenter pencil.
Update electrical. Check attic and basement area. Check roof. Waterlines.
I’m still scribbling things down when the sound of a vehicle pulls me from my thoughts. I look up and see a dirty, white minivan driving down the dirt road. With all the moisture, no dust trails behind it. I close my little notebook and stand, sliding it back into my back pocket as I wait for the van to come to a stop. When it does, the back door flies open and a rambunctious little boy with dark hair comes jumping out. He takes off running at the speed of light.
Moments later, the driver climbs out. “Bryce, stay close! You hear me?” she yells, not even acknowledging me yet.
She’s absolutely gorgeous. Her dark hair is hanging down her back in natural waves—soft, flowing, and imperfect. I rake my eyes across her tanned skin, the color reminding me of coffee with creamer mixed in. Her face is angular—beautiful—with strong cheekbones, a perfectly straight nose, and plump lips. Her eyes finally land on mine, and they’re a glistening green, just like the grass this morning. She smiles and holds out her hand as she closes the distance between us.
“Hi, I’m Autumn. You must be Clay Slade?”
I shake her hand. Her skin is soft and smooth. The moment we touch, my entire body feels as if it’s been shocked. “I am. It’s nice to meet you.” I take her in, starting at the top of her head, all the way down to her perfectly clean, brown leather boots.
“You too,” she replies, pulling her hand away and taking the tingles with her. “So, what do you think of the place?” she asks, motioning toward the house.
I turn and stand next to her, looking up at the big, two-story farmhouse. “I love it. It’s got character.”
She giggles, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. “Is that a nice way of saying it’s a total shit show?” Her brows are raised like she’s challenging me.
I laugh a deep chuckle. “I mean, it is right now, but it’s got good bones. It definitely holds promise.”
She motions toward the porch. “Should we have a seat and talk?” I see her eyes take me in, lingering a little longer on my lips. Seeing this causes my heart to pick up and I’m not sure why. Sure, she’s beautiful but I’m not the love-at-first-sight type of guy.
“Absolutely.” We both take a seat. “Would you like some coffee?” I hold up my thermos.
“I’d love some. T
hanks.”
I remove the lid and pour her a cup.
She immediately takes a sip. “Mmmmm, this is amazing. Sorry we’re late. Someone didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. And since we were late, no coffee for me.” She tips her head slightly to the side.
“Don’t worry about it. It gave me the time I needed to make a few mental notes for this project.” I pull out my notebook once again. “So, when are you wanting this job started?”
“As soon as possible,” she responds. “It’s just that… well, we just moved into town and we’re staying at the motel. That’s not really a great place for a child. So, the sooner we can get this place move in ready, the better.”
I nod. “Okay, and do you have a timeline in which you’d like it finished? Like an opening date?”
She shrugs. “I’m pretty flexible. I was thinking that it would be great if we could finish the ground level first. That way, we could go ahead and move in while constructions continues on the upstairs. Bryce and I can just crash in the living room…as long as the kitchen and bathroom are up and running, of course.”
“How authentic are you wanting to keep the place? Are you wanting to restore everything to its original condition, or are you wanting everything updated?”
“I actually haven’t even seen the inside yet.” Her back straightens.
“Really? Who buys a house without seeing it?” I realize I’m probably coming off a little judgy. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” I add, shaking my head at my outburst.
She laughs and gestures towards me with one hand, palm up. “No, it’s quite alright. I saw the place online and just thought, hey, if I don’t do this now, I never will. So I made a few phone calls and purchased it. Bryce and I came by the other day to check it out, but I was afraid to go inside. I didn’t know how safe it was.”
“Well, let’s go check it out. I’ve already walked through it to make sure it was stable.” I stand up and so does she.
“Bryce, come on,” she yells at the little boy who’s sitting in the dirt and playing with his cars.
He hops up and comes running over.
She reaches out for him, placing her hand on his back. “Bryce, this is Mr. Slade. He’s the man that’s going to fix up our house.”
Bryce smiles up at me. “Hi, mister.” He holds out his hand to shake.
I laugh and shake his tiny hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Can we put a swing in that tree over there?” He points toward the tree he was just playing under.
“I don’t see why not. Hey, we might even be able to find a tree to build you your very own tree house. Would you like that?”
His eyes double in size, and his mouth falls open as he nods his head vigorously, causing both his mom and me to laugh.
“Alright, let’s go check out the inside of the house.” I open the screen door and stand back, letting them walk ahead of me.
“Whoa! This place is huge,” Bryce says, spinning circles in the entry way.
“The floor is still in really good condition.” I stomp my foot a couple of times to show her how strong it is.
“Its color is beautiful too,” she agrees, walking into the living room. “Oh, look at that old fireplace.”
I smile as I watch her take in the place. Already, I can tell she’s like me. She finds beauty in older things. She’s not the type that wants to rip everything out and replace it all with something new. She appreciates the beauty in this old, dusty house. Realizing this makes my heart beat a little faster, and adrenaline pumps through my veins.
“I was thinking that we could sand these floors and slap on a coat of polyurethane, and they would be good to go. As far as the fireplace goes, we can clean the chimney, have it inspected, and then some Murphy’s oil would bring the wood back to life. The walls in here just need a fresh coat of paint.” I run my hand over the wall, causing bits of dust to flake off. “What do you think?”
She nods as she takes in every aspect of the room. “I love it.” She smiles wide and scrunches her shoulders up. It’s the cutest and sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Now, the kitchen,” I say, heading in that direction with the two of them following after me. “The cabinets are in rough shape. However, we can try to save them if you like them. What we can’t save, we can replace. I have a great guy for woodworking who can replicate almost anything. The tiles, I like them, but honestly, so many are busted and loose. I would just replace them.” I run my hand across the tiled backsplash and a tile falls out. “I know the rustic kitchen theme is in right now, so it would be easy to replicate. “The old farmhouse sink is in great condition. We’ll just have to update the hardware.” I jiggle the faucet and it squeaks and shakes.
She looks at me a little dreamy-eyed as she pictures the house in its completed stages. “I love it. All of it is perfect.” Woman after my own heart…
5
Autumn
“There’s one little thing, though,” I say, shooting him a smile. More flies with honey, right?
“What’s that?” he asks in his deep voice as he runs his hand over his five o’clock shadow. This man is definitely nice to look at. He’s tall and lean but built from years of hard work. His dirty blond hair is short, curling at the ends in a cute, boyish way. His jaw is sharp and his chin is strong. All of this leads down to thick lips that look soft and sweet. His features are beautiful, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he doesn’t care. He’s the prettiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I find it strange based on how he carries himself. He seems to not be the kind of person to notice something as vain as appearances. He’s friendly but guarded—I can tell that about him already.
“I want to help with renovations,” I confess, hoping he didn’t notice the way I was taking him in just now.
His blue eyes find mine, and they’re squinting at me as he cocks his head to the side, probably trying to figure me out. “You…want to help? With the rebuild?” He’s surprised. His eyes are wide with alarm, and his brows are pulled together in confusion.
I nod. “I know it probably sounds crazy—but I do. I just feel like it would mean so much more to me if I had a hand in bringing it back to life, not just handing over money.”
“Have you ever restored a house before?” he asks, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his wide chest, feet crossing at the ankles.
“Well…no,” I admit, looking anywhere but at him. “But I wouldn’t say that I’m completely clueless on the whole thing. I’m not asking to wire the house or anything. But I can handle some of the smaller jobs.”
“Like?” he prompts. I can tell it’s going to take some talking to get him to agree to this.
“Like…” I start walking around the island in the kitchen, thinking it over. “Like I could do some painting. I could lay tile. I could swing a sledgehammer.”
He smiles at that last one. “My insurance won’t cover you or your kid if you get hurt. This will be a construction zone. It’s dangerous. It’d be best if the two of you just stayed away.” He stands up right. I can read his body language. It says, no way, and that’s final. But I’m not giving in that easy.
“Your insurance won’t cover it, but my homeowner’s insurance will. And I can see about getting Bryce in daycare for the summer until school starts. This is non-negotiable, Clay. This is my house. If you want this job, you’ve got to let me help.” I place both my hands on the island and lean toward him, keeping my eyes locked on his. I want him to know that I’m not backing down. When it comes to this, it’s my way or the highway.
He lets his arms fall to his side, and he runs a hand through his dirty blond hair. His jaw cocks and relaxes as he starts pacing back and forth while thinking it over. After a couple of minutes, he stops in front of me. “Fine, but if you screw something up, it’s coming out of your pocket. Not mine. Got it?” His voice is hard and stern. His eyes may as well be shooting daggers at me. I can tell he’s not happy about this, but I do
n’t care.
I smile. “Got it.” I hold out my hand.
His eyes go from my eyes to my hand and back. Finally, he slaps his hand into mine and we shake.
“So, where do we start?”
“My guys won’t be joining us for at least another couple weeks since they’re already busy on a project, so it will just be us. We need to pick something that won’t take a lot of manpower, like…painting the living room and entry way. We’ll paint, and then take on the fireplace, and then the floor. Sound good?”
I nod. “Sounds great. Let’s get started.” I spin on my toe and head toward the living room. Bryce is sitting in the floor, playing with his cars.
“We’re going to need paint and supplies. I’ll need to go to the hardware store,” Clay says, walking into the room behind me.
“Okay. Come on, Bryce.”
He hops up and takes my hand. We turn and face Clay. He’s standing in the door way, looking just as confused as before.
“I don’t have room for a car seat in my truck,” he says, drawing his brows together.
“Okay, van it is. Come on,” I tell him as we walk past.
I take Bryce out to the van and get him buckled up. I turn and look at Clay. He’s standing a few feet away from the van, kicking at the dirt like a scared little boy.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
His eyes meet mine. “On second thought, we’re not really ready to start painting just yet. We’re going to need water and electricity, and that can’t be turned on until everything is inspected. So why don’t you go ahead and pick out some paint samples and get the whole daycare thing set up? I’ll get to work on getting the inspector out here. Once we’re cleared to have water and power, then we’ll start painting.”
My mouth drops open. I feel a little disappointed. Starting was right there within reach. Now it’s being pushed away again. But I guess he’s right. We don’t want to start something until we have everything in place. I nod my head. “Okay, so then…you’ll call me?”
Baby Secret (Slade Brothers Book 3) Page 3
