Page 38 of A Little More

“Snoop?” He grimaced and followed her inside. “It’s not in the best shape.”

“That makes it even better.”

As she stepped through the front door, she contained her excitement. With most of the original architecture still intact, it made restoring it her dream job. Just inside the foyer, stairs climbed along the sidewall to the second floor. The wood, plank floors looked original, and her heart rate doubled. She ran a hand along the edge of a chair rail with paneling hidden beneath moss green wallpaper. The living room sat on the left, an open space framed with peeling crown molding that needed a little love.

“Nice television.” He’d mounted a seventy-inch screen, a muted baseball game playing, across from a long, navy sofa. On the glass coffee table, he’d rested a book and an empty mug. The bay windows would let in a ton of light when the curtains weren’t drawn. Detailed, original molding outlined the windows.

Pictures of what it might have looked like back in the early 1900s flashed through her mind.

“I’m going to warm up the soup. The kitchen’s in the back. It’s in bad shape, Lexi.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “That’s to be expected of homes this old without major renovations.”

“Did you come to check on me or poke around my house?”

She peeked inside a closet. “I’m here, does it matter?”

His arm caught her around the waist, pulling her back against his chest. His lips skimmed along the side of her neck. “I think you’re here to torture me since I can’t do anything about it.”

“You’re doing plenty,” she said, resting her head back on his shoulder as his trail of kisses made her eyes close. His strong hand slid over her stomach and pulled her tighter. She couldn’t tell if it was the fire between them or his fever that heated her body.

She cleared her throat. “Okay. Let’s get this soup in a bowl. The sooner you get better, the quicker we can get back to the project.”

“Right. I was thinking about the project, too.” He shifted past her. “This way.”

The view of his broad back didn’t cool her skin. Her eyes snapped to the worn floorboards, guilt biting at her for checking him out. He was sick. Needed rest. She bit her bottom lip and glanced at him again. Ashamed. She should really be ashamed.

All that sexy heat left her body, though, when she saw the state of the kitchen. “Goodness,” she muttered, moving around the war zone. “What happened?”

“When I moved back in, there was a little bit of a rodent problem.”

Her eyes dashed around the floor.

He chuckled. “They’re gone now, but they’d done too much damage to the cabinets and the floor. I stripped everything out.”

He didn’t exaggerate. There wasn’t anything left in there but an old refrigerator and a microwave. An old, chipped porcelain sink held one cup. No wonder he had to eat with Ms. Peggy all the time. The most he could do was microwave leftovers.

“Have you considered how to renovate it?”

“No.” He opened the microwave and set the soup container inside. “My Nana left fifty thousand in trust for the renovations. It was what my Grandpa had saved to fix it up for her, but after he died, she moved in with my mom. Why? You look like you have a few ideas.”

“Only about a hundred.” She moved in a circle, the layout coming to her the same way designing buildings did, in a blur. “Fifty thousand, huh?”

“For the whole house, which isn’t enough, I know.” The microwave dinged. “Take your time and look around. I’m going to go sit and eat this while it’s hot.” He finished his sentence with a yawn. “Sorry.”

“Go. Eat. Relax.” She waved him away and continued with her vision. She’d center the farmhouse sink under the wall of windows. Neutral, light granite countertops with white cabinets. Chrome appliances. There wasn’t enough space for an island, but the end of the counter could turn a right angle to be a small bar for two stools. The floors were worse here than in the rest of the house, having been covered with something like linoleum at one point. The glue was still visible in most places. If Nash could refinish them, that would save some money.

If he’d let her, she’d love to design the space. It would give her a chance to get her feet wet with this type of renovation. It might be a good excuse to continue her time with Nash after the store’s construction. Nash couldn’t farm in Atlanta, and she couldn’t sustain clients this far from a major city. She respected that. But she could try to stretch their time together a little longer than another month or two.

The rear set of stairs off the kitchen surprised her. He’d said she could look around, so she crept over to them and started up. One thing the house didn’t lack was air conditioning. Amazing that Nash could walk around without a shirt on and feverish with the freezing air blasting from the vent.

The three bedrooms upstairs were in the same shape as the rest of the house. Lexi smiled at the disrepair. Nash didn’t bring many women to his home. Or, if he did, he kept the lights off. An unmade bed stood in the center of one room. The dark brown headboard fit with the style of the room, but the navy comforter hanging off the bed and halfway onto the floor screamed bachelor. Surprisingly, his clothes were either in the laundry basket or hung up in the closet missing its doors.

The upstairs bathroom stood at the opposite end of the hallway. The toilet sat on the floor, broken, but the tub and shower curtain were damp as if he’d taken a shower recently. Probably another half bath downstairs she’d missed. The other two bedrooms contained a few dozen brown cardboard boxes.

She walked back down via the front stairs, avoiding holding onto the railing that shook with her first touch. The floorboards creaked with each step. All cosmetic repairs so far. It seemed like the building was sound, but she wouldn’t know until she went into the basement.

“Can I—”

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