Page 82 of The Summer Swap

“I don’t think you should feel shame for finding joy in your life,” Lily said, “particularly when you reach your seventies.”

“Neither do I. I was kidding. And presumably she feels the same way, or she would have packed a bag.” He gathered up both mugs and carried them back to the kitchen. “Enough slacking. We have a full day ahead. I appreciate you donating your vacation days, by the way.”

“I’m having fun.” Not just because of the work, but also because of him. Spending time with him didn’t just make her happy, it made her feel stronger. More sure of herself. It was inspiring to see him living the life he wanted to live. And maybe allowing herself to get closer to him was going to make things harder for herself in the long term, but she wasn’t going to think about that now. She enjoyed being with him too much to deny herself his company. Everything about him fascinated her. “When is the new sofa arriving?”

“Tomorrow. I persuaded them to sell us the one we saw in store. Otherwise we would have been waiting for two months.”

“This must be the fastest makeover ever.” She tensed as he reached out a hand and stroked her hair. “What are you doing?”

His fingers combed gently through the tangled strands. “You have paint in your hair. It’s a whole new look.”

Her heart was pounding. “You have paint on your nose.”

He trailed his finger across her cheek and smiled. “Does it suit me?”

She wouldn’t have cared if he’d poured the entire can of paint over himself. She still would have wanted him more than any man she’d ever met and standing this close to him made it almost impossible to concentrate. There was something in his eyes that made her wonder if he knew how she felt.

She hoped not. “We should get back to work.”

He didn’t move, and for a single breathless minute she thought he was going to kiss her, the way he had that night of the party. Then he let his hand drop and stepped back.

“You’re right. We should. This place isn’t going to transform itself.” His voice was roughened, and he turned his back on her and focused on the shelving unit.

She stared at his shoulders, feeling as if something special had just slipped through her fingers. “I can’t bear the thought of her selling it.”

“I know. If she’s going to sell somewhere, I’d rather she sold that big old house she is currently living in.” He picked up the drill. “It’s like a shrine to my grandfather. Interestingly she took all his paintings off the wall in her bedroom.”

“She did the same thing here.” Lily watched as he drilled holes in the wood, his T-shirt pulling tight over the width of his shoulders. She loved watching him. His hands moved over the wood with confidence, as if he was working with a friend he knew well. “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Go ahead.” He turned to look at her, and this time his smile was friendly and neutral.

The intimacy that had been there only moments earlier had vanished.

Or maybe it had never been there. Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part.

“The attic room. I was thinking that instead of a rollaway, you could build storage under the beds.” She outlined her idea and he listened and made a few suggestions of his own. Then he grabbed a pencil and sketched a plan.

“It would work.” He studied the drawing. “It’s a great idea.”

Lily grinned and returned to the wall she’d been painting.

They worked side by side for the next few hours, Lily painting and Todd working on the shelves.

She was concentrating so hard on doing the best job she could that it took a moment for her to realize that the hammering had stopped.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was watching her.

“You’re a hard worker, Lily.”

She looked back at the wall she’d just finished. “This doesn’t feel hard, and it doesn’t feel like work.”

He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Maybe you are looking at a future career. Do you know how much people around here will pay for a talented decorator? You might want to think about it. It would be a way of boosting your income while you develop your art career.”

“I don’t have an art career.” She daubed paint on a spot she’d missed. “I don’t have a decorating career, either.”

“If my grandmother’s instincts are correct, you will have an art career. And you could have a decorating career, too,” Todd said. “Once word gets around, your phone will be ringing nonstop. Recommendation goes a long way in this part of the world.”

“Who would recommend me?”

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