Page 83 of This Is How It Started
“You remodeled.” I turn in place, noting the high-end appliances, the Carrara marble countertops, and the custom white shaker cabinets. He took white subway tile all the way up the wall. The look is clean and sleek but also in keeping with the 1920s-era building.
“Pretty killer, huh?”
“Oh yeah. You added a lot of value here.”
“It’s the only thing holding me back from selling.”
“We’ll find you a new kitchen with all the bells and whistles.”
He laughs. “I thought you might say that.”
“Want to see the bedroom?” He arches his brows, and there’s a hint of suggestiveness in his voice. Nothing pervy, just playful.
“Yes, take me to the bedroom.” Jesus, I’m flirting.
He’s at least eight years older than me. Maybe even ten. Which makes him harmless. And I’m so out of practice that it’s fun to see if I still have it.
We take a small hallway off the living room to the one and only bedroom. I’d forgotten how large it is. There’s a king-size bed, a small seating area and a fireplace.
He comes up behind me, close enough that I can feel his breath on my neck. “What do you think? You like?” His tone is sexy. Too sexy.
“Very nice.”
Before this gets completely unprofessional, I hand him the folder I’ve filled with listings of comparable apartments that have sold in the area over the last three months. “Should we go back in the dining room and talk price?”
“If you insist,” he says in a long-suffering voice.
I spread the comps on the table for him to look at.
“Can I offer you a drink? Sparkling water, coffee, juice, wine, a cocktail?”
It’s a little early for booze, so I ask for a glass of sparkling water.
“You want something to eat?” he calls from the kitchen. “Oysters, chocolate?”
I laugh. The man is bad. “No thanks.”
He returns with waters for each of us, hands me one, and clinks my glass with his own. “To us and new beginnings.”
“To us and new beginnings,” I say, not entirely sure if he’s talking about selling his home or something completely different.
After my meeting with Wade, I convince myself to swing by Campbell’s. It’s kind of out of the way, but I’d like to see what he’s done with the house and...I miss talking to him. I miss him.
I don’t see his truck parked on the street when I get there and start to leave. Then at the last minute, I decide it wouldn’t hurt to see what I can see on my own.
I walk around the side and let myself into the backyard. Wow, Adam wasn’t kidding. All the weeds and overgrowth are gone. Sod has been laid, flowers planted, and there’s a small flagstone patio where there used to be a concrete pad. Mr. Scott has been busy. The old rotten fence has been replaced with a new redwood one, and Campbell has started building a deck off the main bedroom. When it’s done, it’ll be beautiful.
“Ma’am, you’re trespassing. Do I need to call the police?”
I swing around, and my lips curve up. “I wasn’t trespassing, I was snooping. There’s a difference. Did you just get home?”
“Yeah. When did you get here?”
“Five minutes ago. I was in the neighborhood and wanted to check out your progress. This is like a totally different place, Campbell. I can’t believe how much you and your dad accomplished out here.”
“It was mostly him. Retirement is driving him crazy. Come inside and see what I’ve done in the house.”
“If it’s anything like out here...Oh my God, Campbell.” The kitchen is completely gutted, and the wall separating it from the small back room has been taken down. The space is huge and filled with light.
