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The depths of his eyes swirled. Deep. Intense. “Depends. I’ll need to walk through your house and get an idea of what you have in mind before I can even quote a ballpark estimate. The price range can vary by thousands.”
Gratitude eased her tight throat. Straightforward. Upfront. This kind of communication she understood. She glanced at the clock. Not quite 12:30. “I don’t have another massage until 3:00, then I’m booked through the evening. How’s your afternoon?”
Rory pulled out his phone and clicked through several screens. “I’m good until 4:00. Let me grab a sandwich first. You tell me what’s important to you house-wise, then we drive out there.” His gaze trailed to her uneaten salad. “You want anything when I order?”
His calm take-charge manner set her at ease, even if it bugged her. This was a job to him. She swatted the thought away as if it were a noisome fly. “Excellent plan. And I’d love a pineapple smoothie.”
“You got it. Don’t get me started on the smoothie bar though. I can wax eloquent on the topic longer than anybody wants to listen.”
Vi giggled and reached for her purse, but he ignored her. As she gazed out on the sunny day, Mother’s depressing voicemail dissipated. Talking to Rory had drained off most of the tension. And the bit about waxing eloquent? She found the humility refreshing … and endearing. But he was male. To the core. She didn’t dare forget.
Rory set the smoothie next to her, settled in his chair, and held out his hand. “Want to bless the food with me?”
Oh, dear. Their group held hands during prayer. Since she’d removed herself from his vicinity whenever they gathered, this twist threw her off balance. The spark in his eyes revealed he knew she’d avoided him. The challenge lurking in the depths spurred her to action. She touched his hand with her fingers.
The floor-to-ceiling window emitted a perpetual chill, but there was nothing cold about Rory’s gentle grip.
Rory’s insides whoop-whooped as they drove to the house. Vi had taken his hand when they prayed over the meal. Not that he would have let her off the hook. If this project had any hope of success, her days of running from him were over. He cast a side look at her compact frame in the leather seat. The slate blue Peeps’ hoodie over navy scrubs and the long braid flowing down the front of one shoulder made his pulse whoop too. Steady there, bud. She’s complying because it’s business. Let go of the fantasy and get real.
He opted for small talk. Jesse had no patience with chit-chat, but Rory had discovered it opened a lot of doors. “How many massages this morning?”
“Two down. Three this evening.
“Do you enjoy the work?”
She yawned. “I do. It’s, um, fulfilling to ease people’s physical pain.” She stifled another yawn. “Sorry. Don’t know why I’m so sleepy.”
Rory’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Sleepy meant relaxed. Another box checked. A decent outing would help her trust him—though the why remained a mystery. He sensed a deep, protracted root. No expert on relationships, he defaulted to what he knew. A house was built in layers. He’d build this relationship with a sound foundation. Strong as cement. Mixed with care and poured in increments.
A question or two at a time. “And your ankle? How much longer in the boot?”
“It’s healing. Not fast enough to suit me, but now it only hurts if I overdo. About four more weeks? It’ll be after Christmas.”
Vi’s timeframe sounded optimistic. Far be it from him to dash her hopes.
The Lexus bumped along the ruddy dirt path, arriving at her place slightly indignant. Rory climbed out of the car and gazed at the once-majestic house. The fresh territory whispered his name. Dry brown leaves danced around his face, mirroring the excitement rising in his spirit. He looked at Vi to see if she noticed anything different.
Consternation had settled in her lips and jaw. “I need help to visualize a finished product. All I see is peeling paint, rotten boards, and way too much landscaping for one person to accomplish.” She pointed. “I love the curlicue wood cutouts in the corners.”
Rory forced his rising emotion into a professional box. “Gingerbread. You’ll get to pick out all you want so long as your budget agrees. Fresh paint and new siding will fix the exterior. Once it’s restored, you’ll have a classic up-to-date Victorian home.”
A stiff wind gusted under a bright white sky. More leaves blew across their path. A hint of smoke drifted in the breezy currents of air. Rory extended a hand, relieved when she took it and helped her up the uneven steps. Their footsteps echoed on the wooden porch.
Vi unlocked the front door, and they entered the living area. Alit with curiosity, Rory gestured around the room. “May I?”
At her nod, he slipped into contractor mode and began a tour of the premises. The joy slow-waltzed into a tango as he inspected bedrooms, bathrooms, and closets. Vi had silently followed at a distance, hanging back when he climbed the stairs.
On the second floor, Rory surveyed a master bedroom with small closets and an even smaller bathroom. Trademark of an era when people didn’t require as much. Easy makeover. More closet space and a bathroom extension would be a snap in this large room. An alcove nestled into a wall near the bathroom. Perfect setup for an infant.
After a quick peek at a balcony overlooking the property, he clomped back down the stairs. Vi waited for him in the living area, apprehension masking her pretty face. Man, he wanted to make her worries go away.
“You’ve got a magnificent house, Vi.” His enthusiasm spilled over—no smoke to blow here. His exhilaration climbed to a fever pitch. Seeing this place come to life would satisfy an itch he hadn’t even known existed.
“Daddy said the house had good bones,” Vi murmured.
“He was right. There’s always the possibility of things cropping up we don’t foresee. I’ve learned how to work around most of those issues.”
Her jaw had loosened, even if her eyes remained wary. “Did you see the kitchen?”
