“You did, and you didn’t even have to say the words. I just felt it radiating from you.”
She chuckled, but I was distracted from the flirting when I walked into her house and realized it looked completely different from the last time I’d been here. The drywall had been finished and the trim had been installed. All the flooring in the living room was repaired and the light fixtures had been replaced.
It was a vast improvement, the space completely transformed. I turned in a slow circle, then drifted a little further inside. “Okay. This is ridiculous.”
Her eyebrows rose slowly. “What’s ridiculous?”
“Did you really do all this by yourself?”
“Yes?”
I looked around again, trying to get my head wrapped around the fact that the incredible craftsmanship was hers. “This is impressive, Raquel. Seriously. This room was a disaster the last time I was here.”
“It still is,” she said, but I saw the smile she was trying to suppress. “At least I’m getting there, though.”
“You’re more than getting there.” I wasn’t even just saying it to get into her pants. I was genuinely in awe of what she’d achieved here. “Why the hell did you go into engine repair?”
She frowned at me, those gray eyes clouding with confusion. “What do you mean?”
I waved a hand around to indicate the room. “You’re really fucking good at this. Contracting may just be your actual calling.”
“Maybe, but fixing cars is the family business.”
My heart tripped over itself as I realized that she and I had more in common than I’d thought. I understood better than most how a family business could shape your life before you even knew there was such a thing as career choices.
There was no doubt in my mind that renovation, design, and basic construction were her actual callings, though. She had the magic touch when it came to designing an interior in a way thattotally changed the space, and that took a hell of a lot more than just plonking some new furniture into a room.
“My dad taught us about engines before we even knew how to read,” she said quietly, a fond smile spreading her lips. “Avery and I grew up at the shop. I mean, hell, Dad bought the house behind it and knocked down the wall between the two properties before I could even walk.”
I stared at her, wondering how it was possible that our lives had been so different but also so similar. It was like we were two sides of the same coin, and the realization was so shocking that it nearly knocked me on my ass.
“Weirdly enough, I know exactly what you mean,” I said. “My dad was the same. I think I spent more time at his office growing up than at our house. He was teaching us the tricks of the trade after school long before any of us had time to develop other interests.”
She smiled. “Yeah, that definitely sounds familiar, but I love the shop. I don’t have any regrets. Working with Dad and Avery is amazing and an engine really is my happy place. So yeah. I love design too, but I can’t say I mind being a mechanic instead of a contractor.”
“Who says you can’t do both?”
“I’m already doing both.” She pushed off the door frame she’d been leaning against and led me down the hall. “For now, just fixing up this house is all I have time for anyway. Who knows? Maybe I’ll do it for someone else once this place is done, but in the meantime, this is our project of the day.”
She opened a bedroom door and I followed her in, surprised by the soft, rosy pink paint she’d chosen for the main suite. It was warm, elegant, and definitely betrayed that girly side of herself that she usually kept locked up so tight.
“Pink?” I asked, grinning as I looked back at her. “That’s a surprise.”
“Why? What should I have chosen?” She crossed her arms, apparently feeling a little defensive about her decision. “Engine gray?”
“Well, yeah,” I said, pretending to think it over. “Oil gray could’ve worked too, I suppose. Or is that blue? No, wait. I think it’s actually green.”
She rolled her eyes and threw a paint stirrer at me. “I work with men all day. I rarely have the chance to dress up and I’m constantly surrounded by masculine energy. I won’t apologize for wanting something soft and feminine in my life. Masculinity is exhausting.”
I grinned. “I know, right?”
“The point is that I don’t need a man making comments about the paint color I chose for my bedroom.”
“Fair enough,” I agreed immediately. “In my defense, I actually really like it. I was just surprised, is all.”
“It does look good, doesn’t it?” As she looked around the half-finished room, I saw the pride, excitement, and satisfaction taking shape on her features and in her eyes. “It’s the kind of room I want to come home to.”
I wouldn’t have minded coming home to it either, if I was being honest, but considering where we’d left that wholeI’m-not-from-around-hereconversation, I didn’t say anything. The prospect of leaving was already getting harder to face by the minute. I didn’t need to drag her into my current fantasies.
