“Absolutely right.”
“So no more midnight walks. Are we agreed on that?”
“Probably smart.”
They both looked at each other for a long moment and then Sam smiled, one edge of his mouth lifting just a little higher than the other. “It’s too bad, really. I like you right back, Alexandra.”
“No reason we can’t still be friendly with each other.”
“Except every time I’m with you, I’ll want to kiss you again.”
“You’ll get over it.”
He laughed and unexpectedly reached out and pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head with an affection that stealthily sneaked into her heart more effectively than a passionate embrace.
“I’ll do my best.” Too soon, he released her and she opened her car door and climbed inside.
“Good night, Sam.”
“Night. Thanks for the hike and the company.”
“You’re welcome.”
She closed the door quickly, firmly, and shoved the transmission into Reverse. She didn’t quite squeal her tires, but it was close as she backed out of the parking space then quickly headed toward her house in Currant Creek Valley before she could surrender to the fierce urge surging through her to turn off the engine, fly out of the SUV and jump back into his arms.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FOUR HOURS AND SIX HOUSES after starting out with the Realtor, Sam picked the house he wanted five minutes after walking through the front door.
“This is the one. It’s perfect.”
His perky real estate agent—the aptly named Jill Sellers—quickly concealed her dubious expression. “Are you sure? It needs so much work! I only showed you this one because you insisted.”
He should have trusted Brodie Thorne’s instincts. This was the very house Brodie had suggested he consider, a two-story early-century bungalow in serious need of some love and care.
The rooms were small and dark and the trim looked as if it had been painted over at least a dozen times. The last kitchen makeover was probably circa 1970, at least judging by the green appliances and lovely orange cabinetry, and the main bathroom would have to be completely gutted.
All in all, it was exactly what he wanted. The challenge of the work it needed was a huge part of the appeal.
“What do you think, Ethan?”
His son sat on the bottom step of the porch, chin in hand. Rodin’s The Thinker with missing front teeth and dark curls. “I believe it’s my favorite so far. I really like this house. It feels happy in here.”
He grinned. “There you have it. That’s good enough for me, kid.” He turned back to Jill. “Looks like we’re going with the happy house.”
She frowned as much as her Botox would allow. “You really should have a home inspection first. I doubt the electricity is up to code and the plumbing might have to be entirely replaced.”
“The structure is solid and the foundation decent. I had a good look when we came in. I figure I can fix just about anything in between.”
“What about all the other houses we looked at?” she said, a little desperately. “Some of those had real potential.”
“I agree, but they’re not for me. I’m sorry to waste your time and energy. We should have started here.” Which he had suggested, several times, but he figured he should probably refrain from pointing that out.
“We Delgado men know what we want when we see it, don’t we, kid?”
Ethan grinned. “Yep. Can I have the bedroom upstairs with that window seat and the huge closet?”
That was the one with the water damage that would need some serious drywall repair. In the win column, the two downstairs bedrooms were just fine and the upstairs bathroom only needed new paint.
“We might have a bit of work to do first,” he warned his son.
“But after that, can I?”
“Sure thing.”
“Are you sure about this?” The real estate agent looked aghast, probably because the asking price was much lower than any of the other houses they had seen, which meant her commission would take a corresponding hit.
He regretted that but he wasn’t about to buy a house he didn’t want just so she could have a bigger payday.
“Dead sure.”
“It’s barely livable!”
“It’s got a working bathroom and kitchen. What more do a couple guys need? Let’s go down 5 percent on the asking price, see if the seller will bite. With that price, especially for this area, I could raze it to the foundation and start over and still probably come out ahead.”
The neighborhood was perfect, as far as he was concerned, a mix of old and newer houses on lots separated by looming pine trees. A silvery creek threaded through some of the houses in the neighborhood—not his, thank heavens, with an inquisitive son to worry about—and the mountains soared as a backdrop.