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The hum was low and made all the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Charlotte?” he asked.
Slowly, I blew out a steadying breath, then came out of the bathroom with a polite smile on my face. At least, I hoped it was polite. Not at all manic or tinged panicky from this little winged development happening in my body.
“Welcome back.”
He was staring at the perfectly clean kitchen counter. His eyes cut over to me, and the amusement was so positively brimming, I wanted to slap him. Or kiss him. Maybe both.
“You cleaned for me?”
“No.” I crossed my fingers behind my back. “I was going to clean today anyway.”
He made a soft grunting noise, and I couldn’t tell whether he believed me.
“Good flight?”
“The crew and I are great friends at this point,” he said. Burke tossed his bag onto the floor just inside the doorway of the yellow bedroom. “They told me to say hi.”
I laughed. “They did not.”
He held his hands up. “They did. Damon—he’s been a flight attendant for fifteen years—is already planning a visit to the area with his husband. Wants to see the house when we’re done.”
His casual use ofwedidn’t help the looping, swirling feeling.
We’re partners in this,he’d said.I will always have your back.It was hardly a declaration of love, and it wasn’t even close to lust. It was scarier than both of those things because it firmly placed trust as the bedrock for whatever this relationship was turning into.
“Good.” I hitched my hip onto the counter as he filled a glass with water and knocked back the whole thing. “Hopefully he can be patient. We’ve got a long way to go.”
He sank into one of the chairs by the small dining table, stretching out his long legs with a groan. “Speaking of ... When is William starting?”
“He’ll be here next week. We have a pretty hefty list to accomplish before they can start. Because we already had township approval on the plans, it’s just a matter of emptying out the rooms and cataloging everything as it goes into storage, and then”—I shrugged—“the hard part starts.”
Burke eyed me. “He say anything about the west bedroom upstairs?”
I swallowed. “Are you sure you want to talk about that just now?”
He kept his gaze even and unblinking.
“Ugh. Fine. Yes, it’s sagging, and no, we don’t know the extent of why.” I joined him at the table. “If it’s a foundation issue, it will be”—I paused—“significant extra cost.”
Burke nodded slowly. “And you think it is?”
I let out a long breath before answering. “Yes.”
He set his elbows on the table and rubbed his hands over his face. He looked exhausted. “I was afraid you were gonna say that.”
“We have to do it,” I said. “There’s no ‘if we fix it.’ If you want this to be a functioning house—whether it’s an inn or a rental or someone’s home or whatever—it has to be done.”
“But we could cut costs from other places,” he said. “Anyone who has a set budget would say the same thing. Guess what happens when a team hits the salary cap? You adjust somewhere else. We can’t just do whatever we want, Charlotte.”
When I thought about all the plans Amie and I had made, I knew it was the extras—the gorgeous, lush details and finishes—that would get cut first. Then I thought about our first face-to-face meeting. How quickly and easily we’d gotten along. Her hand gestures when she got excited. The cookies she’d made in the carriage house oven, which we ate with tea while we sat in the exact same spot where Burke and I sat now.
“What is it?” he asked.
I blinked, surprised at the serious way he was studying me.
“You look sad.”
