Page 95 of Holding On To Good

“And?” Urban asked.

She tried to look innocent. “And what?”

“You always try to soften me up with the easy fixes first. The cheap fixes,” he said, switching his clipboard from his right hand to his left. “Just hit me with the big stuff.”

“Since we’re getting new windows throughout, I’d like to add two more to this wall,” she said, indicating the side of the house facing the lake. A way more expensive option than just replacing existing windows, but the expanded view of the water would be worth it.

She headed toward the attached bathroom, flipped on the light and stood aside so he could see the horrors the previous owners had left behind, including a yellow toilet and matching tub/shower combination.

“Total gut job,” she said. The room was so narrow, she had to turn sideways to get past the vanity to the shower. “I want to take out this wall” –she patted the wall separating the master from a smaller bedroom— “expand the bathroom by at least five feet, add another six to eight feet to this room and put in two walk-in-closets.”

“It’s only a three bedroom as it is. You want to whittle that down to two?”

“It’ll still sell.”

“Maybe. But our budget will be blown and we’ll be lucky to make a profit.”

She set her hands on her hips. “You know, whenever Joanna Gaines wants something, Chip’s always, Sure, babe, whatever you want. Try that. Be more Chip-like.”

“Chip’s married to Joanna. He has to agree with her.”

“Not true. Chip is his own man.”

“This is going to be a tough sell no matter what we do with it. The taxes alone are going to put plenty of prospective buyers off this house. Take away a bedroom and you’ve made it even harder for people to want it.”

He was right. She really hated that.

Not usually. Usually she was all for collaboration and brainstorming, was a big proponent of compromise and was always more than thrilled to listen to his side.

But today was an unusual day.

“We need to go big,” she insisted, planting her feet, as if rooting them to the ugly, tan carpet. “For once in your life, take a risk. If we always play it safe, what’s the point? We might as well stick with additions and new builds.”

Urban took his pencil from behind his ear, tap, tap, tapped it against his clipboard, a sure sign he was doing some heavy thinking. She curled her fingers into her palms so she didn’t grab the pencil and chuck it across the room.

Forcing herself to stay still and silent, she let him ponder her words. And ponder he did. For one minute. Then two. She shifted, impatience simmering, frustration poking at her.

He was going to say no. Was going to give her figures and timelines that proved they’d never recoup their initial investment if they did it her way. Was going to spout a bunch of sensible, rational, fiscally responsible reasons why they shouldn’t even buy this property.

The bastard.

Well, she wasn’t going to listen to him. She was going to renovate this house with or without him.

“What if we add a master suite downstairs?” he finally asked.

“If you don’t want to be a part of this, I’ll buy it on my own.” But then his words sunk in and she shook her head. Frowned. “Wait. What?”

“We could put an addition off the den.” He lifted his clipboard and began sketching. After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped over to his side, peering at the notepad as he drew a rough outline of the house’s interior. “New master here,” he said, his pencil strokes quick and short as he added a large rectangular room to the West side of the house. “Bathroom on the other side of the half bath next to the den.” He penciled it in, complete with ovals for sinks and a toilet and a square tub and rectangular walk-in shower. “Plenty of room for a couple of walk-ins plus, you still get the view.”

She could already imagine it. A wall of windows facing the water, a cathedral ceiling and wide-planked wood floors. They could expand the deck, too, put in French doors giving access to the lake from three rooms; kitchen, living room and brand spanking new master suite.

“What about your budget?” she asked.

“I’m taking a risk,” he murmured in his deep voice, making her realize she’d pressed against him to see the clipboard, the side of her breast touching his arm. There went her whole keep her distance thing. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Something in his voice had Willow glancing up. She found him watching her, his gaze warm and searching.

I’m taking a risk.

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