Page 30 of Pick Your Spot

She liked creating warm and homey spaces. Did she enjoy working in large hotels? Was that her passion, or would she be happy here? He studied the older farmhouse ahead of him. Would that be the project to lure her in? Was there the possibility for a B&B? Did she want that? Could the farm attract guests, or would no one want to visit a startup apple farm in the middle of nowhere, Vermont?

Questions for Amber herself. At least he had the potential to intrigue her.

Which left Burke. The toughest of them all. The most practical and most risk-averse.

Being the oldest, the deaths of their parents had probably struck Burke the hardest. He’d become an adult at fifteen. He’d helped Fox take care of the rest of the kids, the house, and the bills. Knox couldn’t remember a time when his oldest brother hadn’t held at least one job. Often two or even three while thriving in school. Top of his class. Driven.

Knox needed to help Burke see this place as an exciting opportunity. Not a financial drain but a place blossoming with potential.

He grinned at his own cheesy pun. If he leaned on those, it could help. They’d grown up with Fox and his love of puns and cheesy sayings.

“The place is a-peel-ing, Burke. You’re going to love it.”

Grinning, Knox decided to do a more thorough inspection of the farmhouse. If he wanted Amber to use the other home as a B&B, he needed this one to house his whole family. And Ford.

Upstairs, he took a better look at the bedrooms. He’d need Ford’s help to assess and evaluate, but to Knox, it appeared there’d been at least three expansions of the farmhouse over the years.

When he’d first arrived, Knox had chosen a bedroom mostly at random. It faced the back of the property, and he liked the view of the orchard, of the potential, as Jolie would say. He also liked that he faced the cabin where Thea lived. Not that he could see it, but he knew she was there.

Like all the rooms, his included a bathroom. The decor screamed the eighties, but everything worked.

He went through each of the rooms, checking to ensure the water ran and there were no obvious leaks or problems.

Eight bedrooms. Eight. A large number and perfect for them.

And Jay had lived here alone. Why had he not invited Thea to share the house, to have her own room? Maybe he’d thought that would be creepy or improper. Hard to say.

Knox stopped outside of Jay’s room. He hadn’t entered it yet but he’d looked inside. This time, he forced his feet to step across the threshold.

Like Fox, Jay’s room was neat and sparse. A queen bed like all the others. A couple of dressers and a closet. Nightstand with more books. His view looked over the driveway side of the house. Probably the worst view, in Knox’s opinion. What had attracted him to this space?

Jay had bought the property two years before.

Why?

So many questions, and not many ways to get answers.

For a few minutes, Knox stood one step inside the room and studied the space, looking for hints of the man.

Shaking off the gloom and the mysteries, Knox moved back to his room and grabbed his laptop. Time to start on those To Do lists.

And to start planning the meal he’d make.

Date One.

One of many.

Because a man could dream.

Thea studied her closet with dismay. Not only did she not own date clothes, but most of her clothes were in the laundry hamper. If she’d known he was going to propose date night, she’d have done a load the previous day.

Whatever she wore needed to come from her meager selection of clean clothes. If she had a close female friend, she could call her for advice.

Sadly, growing up in foster homes meant Thea didn’t quite know how to make strong connections with anyone. Male or female. Other kids. Adults. She kept herself back from groups.

A therapist would have a field day with her psyche. Fear of abandonment. Fear of connection. And then Asshole Andy had ripped away her minimal confidence and destroyed her trust of coworkers.

For the first time in a long while, Thea wanted to trust. To connect. To feel confident in herself, and her ability to form a real relationship.

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