Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“Why do you work at the shop with Travis and the Hails when you could be doing this full time?” I questioned him.
He shrugged.
“They have insurance.”
I burst out laughing.
“I’m sure that’s not the only reason,” I teased and took another sip of the beer he’d handed me.
It wasn’t as bad that time, but still, I placed my drink down on the counter and started to inspect his work.
My eyes went to the wall where the wood trim met the wood of the walls. “Is this shiplap?”
He grunted. “I was doing it before Joanna Gaines.”
I started to giggle. “I guess you were otherwise occupied when they got famous.”
He gave me a droll look, then took my hand. “Grab your beer, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
I grabbed my beer and followed behind him, periodically taking a drink while I took in everything he wanted to do to the place, and everything he was going to leave as it was.
By the time we’d reached the second floor—and his bedroom—I was in love with the large, old house.
“This place is going to be magnificent when you’re through,” I told him. “I’d love to live here. Mine is nice, and I’d love to own something similar, but it always seemed like a lot of upkeep, so I’ve never taken the owners of the house up on their offer. I’m not really cut out for doing this kind of stuff.”
His eyes twinkled.
“Sure you are,” he said, pushing the bathroom door open and letting me get my first glimpse of the master bath.
And I fell in love. Utterly in love.
“Wow,” I breathed. “It’s a clawfoot tub! Is this the original?”
He nodded his head and followed me inside, taking in the room with a much more critical eye than I was sure that I had.
“This will be perfect once you get a fresh coat of paint on the walls. The floor is odd, with all that mismatched wood, but I love it.”
He looked down.
“This being the bathroom, I wasn’t sure I was going to leave the wood. Wood rots when it gets wet, but my uncle did a fantastic job at keeping the water off the floor in here. The floors in the other bathrooms have already been replaced with tile, but this one is all original.” He scuffed his boot on the floor, and smiled down at it.
I agreed. This floor was pretty beautiful. The slats of wood were a lot smaller than I was used to seeing as hardwood floors went.
“I think you should shiplap that wall,” I told him, pointing to the wall that was closest to the tub. “Make this room really pop.”
He walked over to the wall, with its dark green wallpaper, and reached up to the ceiling—yes, I said the ceiling—and took a hold of the corner of the left most piece, then pulled it down.
It didn’t all come down in one piece like I was expecting, but what it did do was show me enough that there was already shiplap on the walls behind the paper.
“Why would anyone want to cover that up?” I mused. “The nerve of some people.”
He grunted. “They’ll probably say the same thing about us in twenty years when they get a load of what we’re decorating with now.”
I agreed. They probably would.
I walked up to where he was standing and started to peel off more of the wallpaper that I could reach. He helped, and in twenty minutes, we mostly had all of the paper off the wall, and I was amazed with what was revealed behind it.
“It’s like a perfect little farmhouse wall,” I told him. “I wouldn’t do a single thing but maybe sand this to get all the stray pieces of wallpaper off it.”
He didn’t say anything, causing me to look up at him. When I did, it was to find him staring at me with amusement.
“What?”
“I thought you said you didn’t know anything about fixing up your own house?”
I blushed.
“I could probably do the easy stuff like this,” I said. “But I’ve never sanded. Never cut a board. Never done much of anything like that.”
He trailed one of his fingers down the length of my neck, and a shiver stole over my body.
“I can teach you anything you want to know, little rebel.”
I huffed out a laugh.
“Little rebel?”
He fingered my now very short hair that was now cut and styled around the top of my shoulder. It was much shorter than I would’ve liked, but it did, I had to admit, look cute.
“Little rebel,” he confirmed. “You’re a little rebel that doesn’t care what anyone thinks. I like that in a person.”
I licked my suddenly dry lips.
“We shouldn’t have done what we did,” I admitted softly…hesitantly.
He knew what I meant, but I couldn’t make myself say any more.
I didn’t want it to be over with. I didn’t want to admit that we’d taken it too far.