“What do you think?” I asked McKenzie.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, scrolling through the photos. “Look at that magnolia tree out back. You could put a hammock there and probably enjoy it all the way through the first part of December with the way the weather is here. It would be the perfect place to read.” She smiled back at me. “Or write.”
A vision flashed through my mind of McKenzie resting her head against my shoulder as we swayed in a hammock surrounded by falling autumn leaves, an open notebook perched on my lap. I blinked it away.
“And there’s a claw-foot tub,” she practically purred. “I’ve always been fascinated by those.”
Another image of McKenzie appeared behind my eyes, only this one was a lot less G-rated.
I cleared my throat. “Have you ever used one?”
She shook her head. “No, but don’t they look kind of magical? How could anyone be sad in a claw-foot tub?”
“You’d be losing about a thousand square feet,” Darcey interrupted, “and the gas fireplace like the units I’ve shown you. It has a woodburning—”
“I’ll take it,” I said, cutting her off.
McKenzie turned to me with wide eyes. “Really?”
“Don’t you want to see it first?” Darcey asked.
“She has a point,” McKenzie said. “It might be worth checking out. Just to make sure there aren’t any hobbits hiding in the attic.”
“If there are, they can help with the rent,” I joked.
“Afraid not, honey,” Darcey drawled. “Unless you can get them to cosign the lease.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “They can keep me company.”
“If you’re sure, I can call over to the office and have them start the paperwork,” Darcey said.
I placed my hands on McKenzie’s shoulders and squeezed. “Let’s do it.”
“So,how does it feel to officially have your own place in Nashville?” McKenzie asked later that evening. After finishing with Darcey, we’d ended up tucked into the back corner of a hole-in-the-wall tavern polishing off a dinner comprised of every appetizer they had on the menu.
“Technically, it’s not mine,” I reminded her over the screech of someone singing off-key karaoke to an old Hank Williams track.
“It is for at least the next six months,” she said, popping a fried pickle into her mouth. “With an option to extend for three more months after that.”
“Thanks for thinking of that, by the way,” I said, dipping one of the batter-covered slices into a cup of ranch dressing.
She shrugged. “I just figured it was worth having the choice. You never know. You might find a reason to stay.”
What if I’ve already found one?The thought snuck up on me like a thief in a dark alley. McKenzie didn’t seem to realize the weight of her words or the effect they’d had on me. She was too busy scooping as many toppings as she could onto a chip from our plate of nachos.
“And that garden out back will be the perfect place for you to write,” she continued, finally popping the chip into her mouth. “But you do need a hammock.”
“Definitely,” I said, wiping my fingers over the napkin in my lap. “Actually, there’s probably a few things I’ll need to get settled in. Maybe you could, uh, help me?”
Her eyes met mine, and I swiftly added, “Because your place is just so cozy, you know? I want that too.”
A dazzling smile spread over her lips, so big it nearly made her eyes disappear.
“What?” I asked.
“Don’t you know what this means?”
“A trip to Restoration Hardware?”
