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Straightening, Bodie stuck his hands in his jean pockets. “Harry’s mine.”
As if to second the notion, the dog, Harry, ruffed and took a sitting-but-on-guard post at Bodie’s feet, watching Sarah’s every move as she stepped closer.
As she approached, using caution in case the dog decided he didn’t like her getting near, Sarah’s eyes widened. “You have a dog?”
“I have a dog. You sound as if you thought I’d be more likely to have a dragon or something.” He reached down to scratch the dog’s head again.
The dog watched her with great curiosity, as if trying to decide if she were friend or foe, and waiting for his owner to clue him in.
Heat infused her cheeks at her rudeness. “Sorry. You just didn’t come across as a dog person.”
Harry licked Bodie’s fingers in appreciation of the scratch.
“No? What type of person did I come across as?” Flecks in his eyes caught the light, almost giving the impression he was teasing her.
“Surely not as a cat person,” he continued, his lips edging upward ever so slightly.
“No,” she assured, thinking for a second Bodie was going to smile.
Hoping he was going to smile.
Come on, she wanted to encourage. Smile for me.
Which made no sense.
It did not matter to her whether he smiled or not. He was here for a job. Not a friendship.
Then again, didn’t she pride herself on being friendly to everyone? If Bodie was going to work at Hamilton House, of course she’d want to be friends.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with cats,” he continued, his blue eyes still looking a bit mischievous. “I grew up with a houseful. But since meeting Harry, I’ve discovered I’m a dog guy.”
Harry nudged up against him as if to say that he was a Bodie Lewis kind of dog. The love the animal had for his owner was obvious, and had Sarah softening even if Bodie hadn’t smiled. Animals were good judges of character, right? Maybe Sarah’s first impression had been all wrong. After all, anyone who had a dog had to smile from time to time. How could they not?
“May I?” She looked to Bodie for permission to pet Harry.
Interestingly, the dog seemed to also be waiting for Bodie’s permission as he cocked his head and looked expectantly up at his owner.
Having witnessed Bodie’s nod of approval, Harry was happy for more attention and hunkered into a somewhat submissive position. He rolled onto his back so Sarah could scratch his belly, then back onto his feet to nudge her hand with his nose.
Laughing at the dog’s antics, she glanced up at Bodie. “I’ll admit, I didn’t see you as a pet person, in general, but I can see how Harry would win a person over.”
Hands back in his jean’s pockets, he eyed her petting Harry. “You just met me, so I’m not sure what to say to that.”
True enough. She didn’t know what to say to that, either.
Knowing she’d stuck her foot in her mouth enough for one conversation, she gave Harry one last stroke behind his ears, then straightened and gestured toward the house. “You want to come inside and see what needs to be done? Or do you want to see the outside of the house first?”
He glanced toward the house. “I took the liberty of walking around and inspecting the outside while I was waiting. It’s in good shape, overall. Looks like you recently had it repainted. The trim work is great, especially around the porch. There are a few places that need to be touched up that were missed and a piece of damaged wood that, although covered with fresh paint, really needs replaced to keep in line with the rest of the woodwork. Otherwise, not bad on the outside. It’s a beautiful place.”
Sarah knew exactly the piece of trim he meant and those missed paint places had driven her crazy. Although they’d done a great job overall, she’d mentioned the spots to the painters several times, but they’d never come back to correct the areas. That Bodie had noticed impressed her. At first glance, the paint job looked good, but she wanted Hamilton House perfect.
Perfection was impossible with a house that was over a hundred years old. She knew this. But still, how much more work would it have been for the painters to have replaced the damaged trim piece rather than to just slap a couple coats of paint onto it? Especially when she’d been willing to pay to have it made right?
Bodie asked, “You’ve had someone inspect the foundation?”
“Structurally, the house is sound.” Or so said the architect she’d consulted prior to her embarking on her dream of turning Hamilton House into a B & B. The gentleman was a local, a friend of her father’s, and hadn’t charged her a penny even though she’d tried to pay him.
She’d needed all the help she could get since she didn’t know anything about foundations, architecture, electrical wiring, or plumbing. She just knew she loved this house, had loved visiting her aunt Jean every afternoon when she’d gotten out of school and staying with her during summer breaks while her father was at work. Aunt Jean had taught her so many things—how to cook, to sew, to quilt—and had encouraged her love of reading, her love of serving others.
