Designing Love: An Inspirational Romance (Sunriver Dreams Book 3)

by Kimberly Rose Johnson

  “Sure. Sounds good.” Sierra couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. She’d really hoped Bailey had a job to pass along to her. When she’d taken this position Bailey had warned her it would be like this, but she’d believed deep down that she could prove her worth as a designer and have clients of her own by now.

  The office phone rang. Sierra answered on the second ring. “Belafonte Design. Sierra speaking.” She glanced toward Bailey, who busily sorted through fabric samples.

  “Hi, it’s Spencer. Officer Preston.” He quickly added. “I was calling to speak with Bailey.”

  “One minute please.” She put the call on hold and held the phone out to Bailey. “Spencer Preston would like to speak with you.” Her heart rate kicked up a notch. Could this be the break she’d hoped for?

  “That’s odd. He never calls. Thanks.” She picked up the phone. “Spence, what’s up?”

  Sierra stood to leave the room and give them privacy.

  “You’re sure?” Bailey said.

  Sierra paused in the doorway, brushing away a non-existent cobweb.

  “That’s fine.” She wrote something on the calendar then disconnected the call.

  “Sierra, it looks as if your wish has come true. Spencer has requested you as his designer.”

  Sierra whirled around to face her boss. Bailey didn’t look angry or put out, but rather she looked happy. “I won’t let you down.”

  “I know you won’t. But I expect you to run everything by me before you present your proposal to him. You have a meeting at his home this evening. I hope that won’t be a problem.” She handed her a sticky note with an address and phone number on it. “Don’t be late.”

  Sierra nodded. “The timing is fine.” It was finally happening. She had her first client. She bit back a grin and a squeal of delight, not wanting to show too much excitement and run the risk of looking unprofessional. Too bad it was Spencer, because she was still a little miffed over what happened last week. But, as they say, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Now she needed to somehow get over her annoyance with the officer for what he did to her son.

  Spencer rushed around his house picking up the laundry and clutter. He’d impulsively asked to have Sierra stop by this evening without thinking about how messy his place was, and he’d been working all day. A knock sounded on the door. He tossed the laundry basket filled with mismatched socks and piles of mail into the laundry room and closed the door. At least the kitchen was clean.

  He hustled to the door and pulled it open. “Right on time. Come in, Sierra.”

  She carried a large laptop-type bag. “Thanks.” She stood in the tiny entryway and looked around. “Nice place.”

  “It has good bones, but it’s long past time to bring it into the twenty-first century. I think the kitchen dates back to the seventies.”

  She shuddered. “Not that.” She shot him a grin as she stepped further into his two-story home. According to Bailey, the second level was more like a loft, but it held a guest bedroom and bathroom.

  “Should we start in the kitchen?”

  “Is that the room you want to update?”

  “Yes, but I think it would also be nice to put in new flooring and a fresh coat of paint and something new on the windows throughout this level. These drapes are getting threadbare and the light filters through.”

  “That’s a great idea. What’s your budget?”

  “Fifty thousand.”

  She nodded. “What’s the square footage of your place?”

  “This level is twelve hundred and the loft is six.”

  “Did you want any work done up there?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think there’s enough in the budget for that.”

  “I’ll take measurements and see what we can do. If we are using the same footprint, you’d be surprised how far your money can stretch. It’s all in the finishes.” They discussed design and exactly what he wanted. She took measurements and photos of the spaces. A worried look covered her face.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re sure? Is the budget too low? I know cabinets are pricy. I’m willing to use stock as long as they’re solid wood and you can make them look custom. But there is no salvaging these things. They are in bad shape.”

  She nodded. “I think we can make the budget work for the guest bath, kitchen, flooring and drapes. But it will depend how expensive your choices are. Let’s talk details. Do you have any idea what kind of countertops you want?”

  He would never admit this to her, but he enjoyed watching the home improvement shows and had binged on them over the weekend looking for inspiration for this place. “I like quartz. I know a lot of people prefer granite, but the maintenance is more than I want to deal with.”

  “You know countertops?” Surprise lit her voice. “I’m impressed.”

  His neck heated.

  She asked him several more questions before closing her laptop. “Barring any surprises, like water damage from leaky pipes, the budget should be adequate.” They discussed flooring options and settled on carpet in the bedrooms, but the rest was still to be determined.

  “When would you like to meet to go over the proposal?” Sierra asked.

  “I don’t work Thursday or Friday.”

  “I’ll have something ready by Friday then. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Sounds good.” He walked her to the door and let her out. Disappointment coursed through him. Somehow he thought this would have gone differently. He’d imagined there’d be a spark or something between them and not a spark of animosity like the first time they’d met—he was no romantic, but he was lonely and liked Sierra.

  She’d seemed pre-occupied this evening. Could something be going on at home? He shook off the thought. His job made him cynical about life in general, and he didn’t want to be that way toward Sierra. An air of mystery surrounded her. For example, her age perplexed him. There was no way she was old enough to be Trey’s birth mother. What was the story there? Had she adopted him? If not, he definitely favored his dad in looks. He would never have connected Trey and Sierra based on their features.

  Ever since Mark and Nicole had gotten married a few months ago, they’d been trying to play matchmaker, although they were lousy at it. He wanted to settle down and marry, but the right woman had never come along. Not that he hadn’t dated—he’d had his heart broken. What was he thinking? Why would he want to risk that again? The last woman he’d been serious about, he’d thought was the one. He’d even considered proposing until he found out she’d been seeing another guy the entire time they’d been together. Apparently, she was just having fun, which would have been nice to know sooner rather than later.

  He’d thought he read people well up to the day he’d found out she wasn’t serious about him. He was glad he found out before he’d proposed and made a fool of himself. Although interested in Sierra, he wasn’t looking to have his heart broken, so he’d better tread lightly where she was concerned.

  His cell phone beeped. He swiped the screen. “Spencer speaking.”

  “Hi, it’s Sierra. I hate to bother you, but I have a little problem.”

  He stood taller. “What’s wrong?”

  “I had a blowout. I don’t know how to change a tire, and I let my auto club membership expire.”

  “Where are you?”

  He almost laughed at her response. She was only three to four hundred feet from his place. “I’ll be right there. Do you have a lug wrench and jack?”

  “I think so. But I’m not positive.”

  “I’ll bring mine, just in case.” He’d be sure to teach her how to change a tire while he was at it. There was no sense in driving such a short distance. He shrugged into his jacket, grabbed the tools from behind the seat of his pickup along with a flashlight. It would be pitch black soon.

  A shiver ran up his spine. Sunriver’s temps were always too cold for him. He preferred summer temps, but spring here had a lot of variety wh
en it came to weather, which he liked for the most part.

  He spotted Sierra ahead. It looked like he was getting a second chance with her tonight. Maybe the conversation would play to his favor this time.

  Chapter Six

  “I’m going to be later than I’d planned, Trey. Do you mind starting dinner? We’re having spaghetti.” Sierra paced back and forth trying to stay warm as she waited for Spencer to come to her rescue. The man had impressed her this evening—he knew what he wanted, and she liked that.

  “Fine. What’s wrong?” Trey asked.

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “Your voice. You sound worried.”

  Her son knew her too well. “I had a blowout. Officer Preston is going to put the spare on for me, then I’ll come straight home.”

  “Did you crash? Are you okay?” Panic filled his voice.

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry. I was barely out of his street when it happened so I wasn’t going fast.”

  “You were at his house?”

  “I’ll explain when I get home.”

  “Are you dating him?”

  “No.” She almost snapped, but caught herself in time and used her patient mom voice instead. “I need to go. I see him coming. I shouldn’t be too long. Please keep dinner warm for me.” She disconnected the call. Whew. Her son had sounded very bothered by the thought of her dating Spencer. Was it only Spencer, or would he be bothered if she dated anyone? What did it matter? She wasn’t interested in giving her heart to another man only to have him walk out when things got tough. She pocketed her cell phone. “Hey, Spencer. Thanks for rescuing me.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  She scrunched her nose. “Now I’m really sorry, since you’re off duty.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Helping people is what I do, and I enjoy it.” He grinned and raised a brow. “No one ever taught you how to change a tire, huh?”

  “’Fraid not.”

  “Today’s your lucky day. I’m going to walk you through it, but before I do you better turn on your emergency flashers. I don’t want either of us to get hit while we’re changing the tire.

  Her brain froze. Walk her through it? “You mean I’m going to change it?” She flicked on the hazard lights.

  He nodded. “If this had happened out in the middle of nowhere, what would you have done? You need to know how to change your own tire.”

  Of course he was right, but she wasn’t dressed for it, and her fingers were near freezing. She held in a groan and pulled an old utility blanket from the backend of her SUV. At least she could lay it on the ground and not get too dirty.

  A Jeep pulled up behind her SUV. A broad-shouldered man got out and sauntered toward them. It was too dark to see his face clearly. “Sierra? Is everything okay?”

  She knew that voice. “John?” He finally got close enough that she could see his face. She didn’t expect to see him out here.

  “She’s fine. It was only a minor blowout.” Spencer handed her a weird looking tool.

  “What do I do with this?” She asked

  John laughed. “You use it to remove the lug nuts. That’s a lug wrench.” He reached for the tool.

  Spencer stepped forward. “No, let her do it. She needs to learn.”

  John narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed. “We haven’t met.” He held out his hand. “I’m John Belafonte.”

  Spencer grasped his hand. “Spencer Preston. I hired your company to do a remodel in my house. This happened as Sierra was leaving after our design meeting.”

  John visibly relaxed. “It’s good to meet you. I remember talking on the phone. I’m the contractor for the job at your house.”

  Sierra’s pulse accelerated. Even though she knew it was a possibility they’d work together, this confirmed it.

  “You’re a cop, right?” John asked.

  “I am.” Spencer spread his legs and rested his hands at his waist as if ready for battle.

  “That’s cool. Thanks for what you do,” John said.

  Spencer relaxed his stance and glanced toward Sierra. “We should get started before it’s too dark to see what you’re doing.”

  “Oh, okay.” She’d been so fascinated by watching the interplay between the men, she almost forgot about changing the tire. Spencer put the jack into place for her as she squatted beside him and the back-passenger tire and watched. It didn’t look too complicated, but she prayed she’d never have to find out for herself. She definitely needed to reinstate her auto club membership.

  “Slide the wrench over a lug nut.”

  She did as Spencer directed.

  “Good. Now twist it,” he said.

  She tried but couldn’t make it budge.

  “Put a little weight into it,” John suggested.

  She grunted as she pulled with everything she had—nothing.

  John nudged past Spencer and placed his hand beside hers. “Try again.”

  She nearly fell over as it easily moved this time.

  “How’d you do that?” She looked at his large biceps and swallowed. Okay, stupid question.

  Spencer cleared his throat. She caught his eye and noticed he looked slightly put out. It was probably not a good idea to get on the local law enforcement’s bad side, or for that matter, her new client’s bad side. “I’ve got this, John. Thanks for the help.”

  He took a step back. “Sure thing. See you.” He waved.

  She raised a hand. He was a nice guy and certainly knew his way around a lug wrench.

  “You ready to try the next one?” Spencer asked.

  The rest of the nuts came off easily and before she knew it, the full size spare was in place and ready to be tightened. She did the honors, but Spencer tightened them up a little more. Panic gripped her. “I hope you didn’t make it so tight I can’t get them off.”

  “You shouldn’t have a problem,” Spencer said. He shined a light onto her tire. “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m surprised that this blew since it appears to be in good condition.”

  “Don’t freak accidents happen all the time?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but yes, they happen. I’m glad you were here when it blew out.”

  “Me too. Thanks for rescuing me.”

  “My pleasure.” Spencer stood and brushed off his jeans.

  Interesting. He’d gone from ‘doing his job’ to his pleasure. She couldn’t help feeling good about that—although she had no idea why. “I should head home. Trey is keeping my dinner warm.”

  “Sure. Hey, speaking of dinner. You want to grab a bite sometime?”

  She stopped. “Like a date?”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t date. Remember?” She tossed the blanket into the back and rushed to the driver’s side door.

  “Seriously? I thought your son was just saying that. Why don’t you date?” He followed her.

  “It’s a personal choice. See you Friday.” Her heart pounded as she climbed inside. Every instinct telling her to punch the gas, she instead eased away from the side of the road. What was she so afraid of? Spencer was one of the good guys—at least he seemed to be from what she knew of him. She’d have said the same of Randy though.

  Had Spencer only hired her as a way to get close so he could ask her out? That would be extreme and mighty expensive all things considered. So what if he had? It wasn’t like she could do anything about it. Besides, he’d done her a favor, and she certainly wasn’t going to back out now. But what if he no longer wanted her on the job? She’d never get her own projects if her first client fired her.

  Friday morning, Spencer stood in his kitchen with Sierra, looking over the design plan she’d come up with. “I can afford this?” It didn’t seem possible. Everything looked so high end.

  She nodded. “The stock cabinetry helped. If we had gone with custom cabinets, there’s no way we could do everything you want. We also have a contingency fund in case something comes up.”

  “Hopefully
it’s enough.” As much as he wanted and needed to do this update to his kitchen, he’d seen enough remodeling shows to know that things rarely went as planned.

  “Bailey and Stephen were confident we’d be okay.”

  He nodded and noticed she seemed nervous. Maybe it was time to clear the air. “About the other night when I asked you to dinner. I don’t want that to make things awkward. I’m a big boy and can take rejection.”

  Her gaze shot to his and held. “I wasn’t rejecting you. I seriously don’t date. It really has nothing to do with you personally.”

  It felt personal, but her words helped dull the sting of her rejection. “I’m still curious why you don’t date.”

  “I can see you’re not going to drop this until I answer your question. I’m a single mom, and I’ve made some mistakes I don’t care to repeat. My son is the most important person in my life. He’s a good kid, and I don’t want to mess that up by bringing a man into the picture.” A pained look crossed her face. “Although it looks like I might not have much choice.”

  He leaned against the Formica countertop. “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re a client. You don’t need to hear about my problems.”

  “Please don’t let the fact that you are my decorator stop you. I’m curious, and I’d like to help if there’s any way I can. You said you might not have a choice. Is someone harassing you? I’m a cop, and I hope we can be friends, so if there’s anything I can do . . .” He tried to remain nonchalant, but something in the tone of her voice said this was big. “You want coffee?” He motioned toward a wire carousel of pods. “I’m working my way through all the different flavor options.” Afraid she wouldn’t take him up on his offer to keep talking, he pulled a mug from the counter, grabbed one that said mocha, and popped it into the machine.

  “Do you have chai tea?”

  He twirled to the backside. “I’m not a fan of tea, so you’re doing me a favor.” He waited for his to brew, then popped in the chai tea pod. When hers was finished he handed her the mug. “Let’s take a seat. It’s warm enough today to sit outside.” He pulled the slider open and brushed off two of the white plastic chairs. “They’re not pretty, but they do the job.”