Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 34938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
I have my cheat sheet from dad. A single piece of paper with everything I need to know about this house. With this paper, and this paper alone, Dad told me, I have everything I need to make sure the tenant is happy and I can do this job the way it ought to be done.
“I think this will do,” Kent says as he walks past the island that separates the kitchen from the living room. He raps his knuckles on it as a sign of approval. “Actually, I can probably get used to this pretty quickly.” He chuckles jokingly as he explores the space.
He pulls back the curtains on the sliding doors in the kitchen, and stands in front with his hands on the back of his head. “Wow.” That’s the only word he says as he stares out at the water, a beautiful sparkling blue expanse that goes on forever.
My heart pounds in my chest as his biceps flex and his muscles tighten in a rippling wave down his back. His eyes are set on the ocean, and my eyes are on his ass. Sucking in a quick gulp of air, I dart my eyes away quickly as he twists back to face me.
“I should probably bring in my stuff. Settle in.”
“Let me help,” I say, taking a step to follow him outside.
“No, it's all right. I’ve got it. Just relax. Enjoy the view, maybe jot down the WIFI password for me on that notepad over there?” He nudges his head toward the small table against the wall.
Kent walks out the door, and I take the opportunity to look over the house. It's a one bedroom bungalow, perfect for a single guy like Kent. The beach is a stone’s throw away, there's an in-ground pool in the spacious backyard, and the view goes on forever with the miles of ocean. It really is perfect.
As I look around the room, I realize that whoever my father brought in to decorate did a terrible job. The way the furniture is placed breaks up the flow of the house, making it sort of an obstacle course. It doesn't work. The couch is pushed up against the wall, the kitchen table is stuck off in a nook away from the amazing view. There's a small table blocking one of the sliding glass doors, too. The only way you get any real view of the ocean from inside the house is if you're standing right in front of the doors.
Why did they set it up like this?
It doesn't make any sense.
Staring at the furniture, I can see in my head a way to really create that flow, to give you a seamless view of the water no matter where you are.
Grabbing the edge of the table, I start to pull it across the room. The legs drag, creating a loud noise. Stopping in the middle of the room, I move over to the couch and push it aside. Rearranging the furniture is going to make this place so much better.
I'm lost in design, carrying chairs, dragging tables, adjusting throw rugs. I want this place to feel open and airy. Most of all, wherever you sit in the living spaces, you should be able to see the amazing view. That’s why he bought this place, after all.
“What are you doing?” Kent asks as he drops a suitcase and a backpack on the floor.
“I'm fixing this place for you,” I say matter of fact. Taking a step back to the front door, I look out at the space. “I just need to move this couch over here a little more, and you'll have a view of the ocean no matter where you sit.”
Kent leans against the doorway and crosses his arms. “So, you figured this all out in the ten minutes I was outside?”
“Yeah, basically. Why?”
Shrugging, his mouth raises into a partial grin. “It's impressive.”
“Thanks.” I'm a little uncertain about what he means exactly, but it's a compliment. I don't get many compliments that are genuine, so I'll take it.
“You don't agree?” he asks, moving across the room.
I watch him as he walks. His hard chest more than I can stand at the moment. I can't take both at the same time, a compliment and his sexy body. It's too much. My heart pitter-patters and my skin begins to heat up.
He leans over, resting open hands on the arm of the couch. Lifting his head, his eyes zero in on mine, and I'm suddenly at a loss for the words.
Those eyes. . . They're so blue. Cobalt in color, bright as the ocean, and piercing enough to send chills down my spine.
Glancing up at the ceiling, I fumble with my hands in front of my waist. “I don't know, I guess I never thought about designing or decorating as a talent.”