Page 11 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
“My answer will be the same,” I tell her with an eye roll and lock the car behind us. “Anyway, what are you complaining about? More hotties for you.”
“Yeah, sure,” she scoffs, but thankfully drops it.
“Thank you for helping me, Lauren.”
“Of course.” She makes her way through the labyrinth of boxes and assembled furniture to give me a tight hug. “We made it,” she mumbles right next to my ear, and I release a deep breath as I throw my arms around her.
“Yeah. We sure did.”
She releases her tight hold on me and takes a step back, a small happy smile playing on her lips.
“It will be great.” I lift my eyebrow, but she puts her hands on my shoulders and gives them a reassuring squeeze. “It will. Just look.” She pushes my shoulders until I turn around. “This house is even more gorgeous than in the photos!”
“Maybe because I’ve paid a good penny to have it renovated and furnished,” I quip, but a spark of optimism is slowly igniting inside me. “Do you want a tour?”
“Obviously.” She rolls her eyes and follows me back to the hallway leading to the front door.
We walk through the ground level, and I make a mental to-do list that I will forget by the time we’re through. Page one: unpacking my movie collection and books and printing some pictures for all the frames I bought for the living room and hallway.
It’s the perfect mix of modern and whimsical. My furniture is made of thick, sturdy wood, created to last forever, the walls adorned with subtle floral wallpapers.
“It’s giving modern fairy,” Lauren whispers at one point, and it makes my lips stretch into a grin. “Or flower witch. The cutesy kind that raises plants and brews love potions instead of casting curses.”
“That’s exactly what I was going for.” I pull her to the kitchen, and the sight takes both of our breaths away.
“Who was your interior designer again?” she asks, voice low in awe. Huge arched windows provide a perfect view of the lake, only a few trees between my house and the water. It’s a clear day, allowing us to see all the way to the other side of the lake, where forests turn into mountains, snowy tops shimmering in the evening sun.
“Me. I came up with all this.” I wave my hand around vaguely. “It took forever to find just the right furniture and wallpapers.”
The kitchen is illuminated by the orange evening light, turning the white cupboards and shelves a beautiful peach color.
“Are those … decorative plaster?” Lauren lays back her head and stares at my ceiling. “Nic, this isfancy, fancy.”
“I figured if this becomes my forever home, I should go all out from the beginning,” I whisper with a shrug. “How is your house doing?”
“I’m committed to DIY,” Lauren says with a happy giggle that makes me smile right along with her. “Don’t laugh! But maybe keep your interior designer skills close—and your guest room, well, guest ready.”
“Will do. Just let me know at what point you need a key.” I laugh and slowly walk through the kitchen, drinking in every detail. They even put away all the new cutlery and dishes I bought.
Suddenly, I hear something shuffling somewhere in the house.
“Oh my God, what was that?” I freeze, my gaze jumping around the room in panic.
“What?”
“I heard a sound … a shuffling?” I say and tilt my head, straining my ears and flinching as if I was a balloon dog at a porcupine convention. “There! Did you hear that?” My panicked eyes meet Lauren’s wide ones as she slowly nods.
“I think it’s coming from your front door.” Lauren takes my hand, and as quietly as possible, we creep back through the kitchen, trying not to make a sound. "Is this how we die? An ax murderer on our very first day here?"
"We're not going to get killed by an ax murderer," I whisper back. 'Hopefully' I add, only in my mind.
“There it is again,” Lauren whispers once we reach the front door, and we stare at each other with fear-ridden eyes. Slowly, I peek through the peephole, but I can’t see anyone on the other side of the door.
“Do you actually think an axe murderer would stay in sight?” Lauren hisses, and I shoot her a glare, placing my finger in front of my lips to shut her up.
“A salesman would,” I whisper softly and grab an empty vase, weighing it in my hand. Yes, this can do some damage.
“Good thinking,” she answers equally softly and grabs an umbrella that’s leaning against the wall next to her to use as a weapon.
