Page 19 of I'm Your Guy
He shrugs those broad shoulders. “There’s a lotta wood. Wood is nice.”
Oh honey. I bite back about a dozen dirty jokes. “The wood makes everything warmer, doesn’t it? And the fabrics are also a little rustic. Wool. Mohair. That plaid throw…”
“Sure. Do something like that,” he says. As if it’s all settled.
“Okay, good start. Now let’s think about how that would play in your space.” I beckon him into the living room and stand in the corner by the front windows. “You picked out the TV wall already by placing the set there.” I point.
“It doesn’t have to stay there,” he mutters. “That was just for quick.”
“No, you chose that spot for a reason,” I try to explain. “Because it felt natural to you to face the front windows. The other focal point in this room is the fireplace wall. So, you’ll want seating that faces both. That means an L-shape sectional, or a sofa and chairs.”
“All right. Sure.”
“Since you like the mountain look, we can do a coffee table and end tables made from oak or even a rustic pine. And I think we’d pick a color from the fireplace’s stones to paint an accent wall. Right there.” I point again.
“What about a rug?” he says. “It echoes in here.”
“For sure. Let’s talk about colors.”
“Nothing bright,” he says. “That’s another thing I liked from the picture. It’s subtle.”
“Uh-huh. But even if we do the furniture in earth tones, you’ll still need an accent color.” I squint at the fireplace. “How do you feel about purple?”
He’s already shaking his head. “No way. Too much like Brooklyn.”
Brooklyn? I spin this association through my brain and come up blank. Does he mean gay? I mean—I’m wearing a purple shirt right now. Nothing else makes sense.
Hell. I promised myself I wouldn’t work for assholes. I promised. Yet here I am, ready to brush that comment under the proverbial rug, because I need twenty grand the way that Harry Styles needs spandex jumpsuits.
Besides, I want to see what this room looks like when it’s done right. “How do we feel about red?”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Reminds me of Trenton.”
Again, I’m stumped. He’d better not mean that in a racist way. “Fine. Tell me what colors you do like.”
He frowns. Like he’s never considered this question in his entire life. “Blue is okay. If I had to pick one.”
“Blue,” I say, nodding in an exaggerated way. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Cool.” He claps his hands together. “I’m sold. So how do we get this done?”
I blink at him. Did he just give me the job? “Uh, first I’ll have to draw up a quick contract. I can’t do any work until we’ve agreed to the terms.”
He nods. “Sure. I get it. How long will that take?”
“I can give you a contract within twenty-four hours. And I have references you can call, too. You haven’t worked with a designer before, but there’s a lot of trust involved. After all, I’ll be in your private space.”
“Yeah, I know.” He flinches. “But I’m also in a hurry.”
“Right. Well.” I spin around. “Can I take some photos and measurements, then? Normally I’d do a whole floor plan and draw some elevations.”
He gives me a look. “That’s jargon for…?”
Oops. “Um, vertical drawings of the space when it’s finished. But those are time consuming.”
“I don’t need drawings, I need furniture.”
“Got it. You want this done on the unholy-rush plan. Shop first, ask questions later.”
