Page 107 of Love on Deck

An exciting and terrifying prospect, if I was honest.

Lauren looked warily at the house. “Bringing me back to your favorite murder spot?”

“You’re not supposed to figure that out yet.”

“Not until I’ve dug a big hole in the back garden?”

“No, Miss Morbid. Not until I’ve gotten you inside the house. Now watch your step.” I pulled her along the outside of the wraparound porch. “Don’t want to fall through any rot on the front porch.”

“I’m not morbid,” she muttered. “I just read a lot of cozy mysteries.”

We rounded the house, picking our way through overgrown grass and unruly bushes. Lauren stopped when we reached the cement steps at the back door, tugging on my arm. “This view,” she breathed.

It was incredible, which was one of the reasons I loved this place. The sky was open and wide, despite the slight gray overcast, and trees stretched out for miles. It was our own little oasis. I pointed to a thicker section of trees just beyond the first shallow hill. “Arcadia Creek runs down there. We can walk to it next time we visit if it warms up.”

Lauren intertwined her fingers with mine. “I’d like that.”

I keyed in the code for the lock and opened the back door to the house, then stepped in first to make sure it was safe. The floor still felt sturdy. It was dirty, the walls peeling and covered in graffiti from bored teenagers before we had upped the security. I wouldn’t be surprised if we found rodents, but Tucker changed out the rat traps for me regularly. The bones of the house were solid—even if it needed to be rewired and the plumbing was likely shot.

“You really love this place,” Lauren said, watching my face with a hint of suspicion.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

She lifted her eyebrows, making me laugh.

I stepped further into the house. “I don’t see what you see. I mean, I’m not crazy. It’s old and probably needs a truck bed full of Brillo pads to clean up the mess.” My fingers grazed the gorgeous carved banister, leaving a line in the dust. “But my mind washes over all the imperfections and I can visualize what it would look like restored to its former glory.”

Lauren walked past me into the kitchen, relics of the 50s I didn’t have the heart to dispose of dotting the room, covered in dust. “This is amazing.” She opened the once light blue (now faded to gray) Frigidaire, rending an angry squeak from the rusty hinges, then looked back at me. “You want to flip this place, don’t you?”

My heart jackhammered against my ribcage. “Not exactly.”

“You want to restore it, though, right?” she asked, shutting the fridge and coming closer.

“Yes, but not to sell.” I swallowed. No one knew this, not even Tucker, and he’d been the one helping me keep the kids and rodents out. All I’d ever told him was that it was a project house, but to keep it on the DL. Telling Lauren now was opening up my heart and letting her peek inside.

Plus, the only thing she’d ever asked me for was not to leave her, so I was terrified of what this would mean to her. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere, but revealing my intentions with this house would also reveal my long game, and that didn’t involve staying in Dallas forever. I swallowed roughly. But the way Lauren waited now, patiently looking at me with zero judgment and an open mind, gave me courage.

I looked up at the crown molding on the ceiling. “It’s kind of a distant dream, honestly. I don’t live here, so it was meant to be an ongoing project for my weekends, but it doesn’t make much sense. My job and my life is in Dallas.”

“It’s okay to daydream, Jack,” she said carefully.

“Trust me, I do that plenty.”

Lauren passed me, stepping through the archway into the dining room. The blinds were shut but light streamed through them, a thick slash of light falling over us where a few blinds had broken or were missing. “Tell me what you would do with this room, then.”

My heart sped up. “Really?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I want to hear it.”

“The wallpaper needs to go, but I’d replace it with something close to vintage in a sage green, maybe? Do all the crown moldings in white.” I pointed. “Put in a long sideboard against the wall. I used to have the perfect one, but I sold it years ago, so I’d have to hunt estate sales for a similar piece. Then tables would dot the room, every shape and size I could find and feasibly fit.”

“Sounds more like a café than a dining room.”

“Kind of.” I swallowed. It was all or nothing now. Might as well jump into the deep end of my crazy fantasy. “I think this place would make an ideal bed & breakfast.”

A slow smile curved over Lauren’s face. “That’s the most adorable daydream I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m not finished yet,” I said, grinning. I was already pretty deep; might as well tell her the whole of it. “It would also function as a showroom. There’s a big unattached garage in the back that would easily convert to a workspace for my restoration projects. They could be utilized in the B&B, but it would be heavily advertised that everything is for sale. If someone loves a piece, we offer to ship it to them. Once it’s purchased, we just replace it with something else.”

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