I’ve never liked sitting around and twiddling my thumbs.
Having horses like Rosie and Stern already makes being buried under a mountain of snow feel tolerable. Something that’ll keep me busy.
Maybe I’ll look up some horse auctions online this afternoon. See what’s out there.
Believe it or not, I wasn’t just bullshitting her about the pumpkin farming idea.
If this chick and her old man made a living off it, then surely I can manage.
Plus, something feels mighty rewarding about watching a big old mess of pumpkins come alive on their vines all season, only to hand them out to local kids itching to carve them up into pretty ghouls and superhero heads.
One thing that doesn’t bore me one bit about Dallas is how it still appreciates the little things.
Folks here don’t need a new candy-colored Tesla or an extended stay in the Maldives to be happy. They relish the simple pleasures, the joy of the seasons, the laughter and fun of families living a small-town autumn to its fullest.
I can’t even say I miss that shit.
I’ve never had it.
Maybe I’m still wrestling with the extreme quiet that comes from living in a place like this, but I know, deep down, there’s something here for me.
And I’m willing to work like hell to find it.
After a good hour of breaking sweat, I take a shower in the downstairs bathroom.
I’m surprised to see Grace examining the exercise room when I step out. After drying my hair with the towel, I drape it around my shoulders and button my jeans before stepping up behind her.
“Boo,” I whisper, holding in a chuckle as she jumps.
“Oh! You…I didn’t mean to interrupt if you were getting cleaned up.” Her cheeks glow cherry red, the same way they did back in the barn.
I wonder if she likes what she sees.
“Just showered, that’s all. I’ll find my shirt in a minute. What brings you down here?” I ask, smirking at how her eyes flee from my body.
She can’t be that big a prude, can she?
“Looking for my muse. Everything we talked about a little while ago.” Keeping her eyes averted, she asks, “Do you use all of this equipment?”
Fair question.
There’s a lot of it here. Some of it, the bike, treadmill, and weight bench, were here when I arrived, set up by the crew who finished this house. I’d ordered the punching bag and the cross trainer later.
“Old habit. I like to switch things up, and when it’s nice, I just go for a run.” I drop the towel in the basket on the floor and grab a clean t-shirt off the shelf that Tobin keeps full. “Is this room what you’re planning on redecorating first?”
“Do you want it to be?” She finally looks at me now that I’m shirt-clad again, an airy pink still painted on her cheeks.
I shrug. “You’re the expert. You tell me how this usually works.”
“Hardly. I mean, I’ve interned, but I’ve never had a chance to do a real job.”
“Yeah? Too busy growing pumpkins or what?” I lift a brow, my temper already rising if it has anything to do with the bastards ruining her life.
“It’s just…my mother was diagnosed with cancer during my last year of college. As soon as I graduated, I went straight home to take care of her and help Dad with the farm. So I’ve never really put my education to good use. Besides creating things to sell at the gift shop, I mean. I did plenty of that, just basic kitschy stuff with horses, apples, pumpkins, and other farm themes.”
“I see,” I say, mainly because I’m not sure what else to tell her.
I know what it’s like to be held back, to have life fling you off course and into something else.
Not for the same reasons as her, no, but the disappointments must be roughly the same.
“If you’ve had a chance to soak it in, I think lunch is almost ready by now. Tobin rarely takes more than a good hour or so to whip something up.”
I wave at the door leading to the hall. She nods her thanks and steps ahead of me, then I follow her out of the room to the stairs.
“You have my permission to knock yourself out redecorating. Let’s get that out of the way right now. Take before and after pictures, order your supplies, do whatever you want to put this job in your portfolio.”
She throws a look back over her shoulder, beaming like the sun.
“Oh, thanks! That’s very kind of you.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing your ideas. Make this place feel less like a fancy hotel.”
“I have my sketch pad. I can show you something soon. It’s all rough drafts right now and fully open to changes,” she says, twirling a finger through her hair.
That little pout makes her bottom lip stick out like a ripe strawberry.