Page 43 of Told You So
Sam lifts a delicate eyebrow. She’s petite and pixie-like with her wild blonde hair and tanned skin, but the look in her eyes is prudent, like she’s seen a hundred lifetimes over the years, and the set of her jaw makes her surprisingly formidable, too.
Sam shoves her hands in her back pockets and steps a little closer. “It’s obvious you like him,” she says, though I barely hear her over the sound of the drill. “So why do you play games with him all the time?”
“I don’t play games,” I say quickly, a dozen other, more self-preserving replies come to mind, but I grip my notebook more tightly instead. “I...it’s complicated.” The years of wondering and wishing things were different make my true feelings difficult to separate. I’m not sure I do like him, or if it’s the idea of him.
To my relief, Sam lets it go. “So,” she says, gesturing to the space. “This will be my new office.”
“It’s a good size,” I say, easily slipping into design mode. “Do you mind if I ask what you used it for before the remodel?”
“Well...” Sam gazes around, like she’s trying to remember. “The back corner was old stalls that were rotted out. They were holding old tractor parts and rusted tools that were my grandpa’s, which Papa was holding onto.” I glance from the corner of the room to her face, wondering if it’s difficult for her to speak of her dad.
“And this area,” she continues, gesturing to the middle of the barn, “had my dad’s old John Deere that didn’t run. Nick pieced out the parts and sold it for me so we could use the space. And, over here,” she says, gesturing to the area where Nick’s installing the windows in the pitched ceiling. “This is where we were storing most of the horse feed. We’ve moved it all to the stables though, which is working out better,” she muses. “Anyway, that’s the gist. Reilly helped Nick with all the demo, but the biggest challenge so far, was Nick replacing the load bearing support beams that were rotting.”
“Yeah, this place looks pretty old, but the bones seem good.”
Sam nods, admiring the transformed space. “Yeah, I’m really happy with it. Other than a few spots on the roof that need some mending, which Reilly is taking care of, it’s just about done.”
I nod, but my mind is swirling with possibilities. Rustic chic, antique accents, and understated furniture. “I really like the old windows up there, it looks great.” I meet Nick’s gaze, and he winks. Remembering his taut abs, I flush and clear my throat. “So,” I say, jotting down inconsequential notes, “what are your must-haves for the space? That will make it easier for me to wrap my mind around this.”
“Well...” Sam tucks a stray wave of hair behind her ear and peers around. “I know I need a desk.”
When she doesn’t say much else, I smile. It’s clear this isn’t Sam’s forte, which gives me a bit of a confidence booster. “Are you worried about privacy or sectioning areas off? I’m not sure what exactly you’ll be using the space for.”
“Meetings with boarders, and my stepmom will be out here, working on accounting. I know this space is bigger than we need, but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to get all of the crap that’s taking over the house out here. Plus, I want us to look more professional. We have twelve boarders now, and I hate them having to call the house number or come inside if they need something and I’m not out here.”
“Got it. Are you thinking you’d like to keep it practical and open? Maybe an open floor plan?”
“That’s kind of what I imagined.”
I walk over to the loft to check out the stairs. “I’m thinking maybe we use the loft for the bookkeeping—it’s separate, but it’s still open, too. Nick might have to run additional wiring up there, but it could be done.” I quickly sketch the layout of the barn, wondering how we should use the open floor plan to suit Sam best.
“I like that,” she says, staring down at my sketch. “I think Alison will too.”
“Do you have any décor themes in mind—a style you’re partial to?”
Sam shrugs. “I have a few things I’ve bookmarked. I’ll send them to you. I like simple, and I stay away from shiny things. Alison would be a better person to ask. She’s not as excited about all of this as I am, but she knows what she likes. She’ll be more helpful than I will. She already has a running list—no dirt floor and definitely an air conditioning system of sorts for the summertime. Reilly’s working on ventilation instead, but Alison is skeptical. And the concrete floors are going in next week, I think.” Sam shrugs. “Anyway, she’s the picky one.”
Sam glances around at the space, and I can’t help addressing the elephant in the room. Holding my notebook up to my chest, I look at Sam and steel my nerves. “About Reilly...Sam, the whole thing last summer—”
She puts her hand up and squeezes her eyes shut in a silent plea. “I don’t want to talk about any of that,” she says. “This”—she extends her arm in a brief wave around the room—“is manageable for me. I’m not, however, good with—” she gestures between us.
“Ladies,” Nick says lazily as he climbs down the ladder. “Glad to see there’s no fur flying in the air or claws out.”
We both glare at him, and he holds his palms up. “Aye! ‘Twas only a joke.”
“We were just talking about what to do with the space,” I say, choosing a more neutral topic.
“And,” Sam says, glancing between us, “I have to jump on a call, so you guys let me know what your plan is and what you need me to do. Nick, you should wrangle Alison in at some point, she should have a say.” With a quick turn on her heel, she heads out of the barn. “Make good choices!” she calls over her shoulder, and Nick salutes her.
When he looks at me, wood shavings clinging to his shirt and dust smudging his face, I smile. His eyes are more green than brown in the sun, filtering in through the skylight, and I wonder if he knows how sexy he is.
I decide that’s a firmnowhen he smacks his chewing gum with a grin, completely oblivious, and steps closer. “So, that seemed to go well enough.” He rests his hands on his hips, amusement bright in his eyes. “I didn’t want to interrupt you two, but my arms were about to fall off, tightening those screws over and over again.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No, it definitely wasn’t as horrible as I would’ve thought,” I admit. “But I wouldn’t say we’re on hugging terms or anything.”
“Ha! You never will be. Sam isn’t a hugger. Not really. That’s Mac. You know you’re ‘in’ with Mac when you get a hug.” He spits his gum out in the trashcan by the door.
“I can see that about Mac, but don’t worry, I won’t hold my breath for that, either.”
