Page 24 of Unspoken Love

He liked the idea of open shelving on the smaller wall, and enlarging the windows on the wall at the back of the house. The cabinets would go on the longest wall.

He’d want to add granite countertops and build a massive island in the center to separate the kitchen area from the dining nook.

Faye had drawn up a sketch of that for him. She had a really good eye for designing spaces and really seemed to enjoy helping him out. But she had yet to step foot in the place for real, and he wanted her to get a fresh view on it before he ordered the cabinets they had looked at online.

The low rumble of a truck caught his attention, and he stepped outside to see Brett backing the trailer up with the sander inside. He waved as the teenager jumped out.

“Where do you want it?” Brett asked, already reaching for the tailgate.

“Right inside the front door’s good,” Nate said, walking over to help lift the heavy thing.

They slid the large drum sander out of the back of the truck and carried it into the house. Once Brett was gone, Nate took a few drinks of his water and got back to work.

The first pass over the floors sent a cloud of dust into the air and revealed the golden grain beneath the dull finish brought on by years of wear. He moved slowly and methodically, focusing on even lines and keeping a steady pace. He was soaked in sweat and covered in sawdust within the hour, but he couldn’t stop grinning.

This was his. All of it. The rhythm of the work, the scent of wood, the satisfaction of revealing what had been hidden—it was all grounding. Meditative, even.

By the time Faye was due to arrive, he was finished sanding the entire front room. He still had all the bedrooms to do, and he had to pull up the old linoleum floors in the kitchen and in each of the three bathrooms.

He would rip out the old yellow and green tiles in each of the showers and tubs, and haul out the matching toilets and sinks. He also had to remove and replace all of those cupboards. But he was planning to live there, so he’d need at least one working bathroom. He had chosen to use the main bathroom.

Wiping his face with a bandana, he headed to the bathroom to rinse off quickly in the green shower. Just as he tugged on a clean shirt and stepped back into the living room, he heard the sound of a car outside.

He moved to the front window, running his fingers through his wet hair, and felt something warm settle in his chest at the sight of Faye walking toward the porch with a pizza box and a six-pack of sodas.

She was grinning when he opened the door. “I come bearing new home gifts,” she said, holding up the soda.

“You’re officially my favorite person today,” he said, taking the sodas.

“Only today?” she teased. “You already got rid of the front porch,” she said as she stepped inside and looked around. “Wow, I guess you’ve done a lot more than that already.”

“Yeah, it’s been a productive day so far,” he said, waving her inside with a sweep of his arm. “Demoing is the easy part. Putting it all back together is harder.”

She circled around and looked at the newly sanded hardwoods then whistled. “These floors are going to look amazing once they’re stained.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I want to give you a tour, but first—pizza. I’m starving. I worked through lunch.”

They carried everything over to where two folding chairs were set up next to a small table.

For weeks he’d tried to keep things professional between them. Even the flirting that he normally did with others was different with her.

He was slowly coming to terms with the fact that it was impossible to not want to be around her. She made him feel like himself, something he’d never had with any other woman.

They sat across from each other, the pizza box flipped open between them, steam rising from the meat lover’s creation from Baked. Faye took a bite of her slice and leaned back with a sigh.

“God, I love Baked,” she said. “They put garlic butter in the crust and always give me extra dipping sauce.”

“That’s the best part,” Nate agreed, taking a huge bite and groaning in approval.

For a while, they just ate in companionable silence, the kind that came easy between them.

He watched her eyes moving around the empty room and could tell that she was thinking about designing the space.

After they’d devoured half the pizza, he gave her a tour of each room. He told her what he had planned as they went along.

When they returned to the kitchen, he pulled out the clipboard that held the sheets of graph paper on which she’d drawn her earlier designs.

“So,” he said, pushing aside the pizza box to make room for the papers on the small table, “do you still think this will work?” He held up a rough sketch of the kitchen. “If I tear out that wall”—he pointed—“and open it to the dining area, I can build that big island there. I’d move the sink from under the window to the island.” He showed her the sketches she’d done several days back when it had been slow at work.