Before myself or Colton could argue with my father any further, Dad hopped inside the vehicle, turned on the ignition to the truck, and backed out of the dirt drive.
“I think we just got set up.”
Spinning around, I narrowed my eyes at Colton as if he had just said the most obvious of things and it was all his doing.
“Are you telling me that you had nothing to do with this?” I said sternly, my fingers gripping the sides of my binder.
Colton’s hands jutted into the air in surrender. Even from this distance I could make out the calluses on his palms. Definitely not delicate like the previous men I’d dated.
“Scout’s honor. I had no idea your dad would jet off like that.”
Moving past him, I gingerly took the steps up to the porch and stood at the front door to the house. “I doubt you were a boy scout.”
Colton joined me and pushed the door open wide. “What makes you say that?” he questioned as he held his arm outward, gesturing for me to enter.
“No reason. You just don’t seem the type.” Moving past him, I held my breath as I took my first steps into the house I’d dreamed of owning one day. My eyes darted around the space wanting to take it all in.
“And what type is that?”
“Sh…” I insisted, flipping my hand wildly in the air to emphasize my need for a moment of silence.
“What are we looking for?” he whispered next to me. He was closer than I expected and I swear I could feel his breath caressing the outer rim of my ear.
I rolled my eyes and turned to stare up at him, only to be surprised to find him mere inches away. “This house is part of my family’s legacy. I just need a minute to take it all in. I’ve never been past the outside.” Colton seemed to understand and nodded as I took a step further into the space. It was dark and dingy, and had a distinct scent of death, but it surprised me at how well maintained everything seemed.
There was a decent sized foyer that gave way to a wood paneled staircase. They designed intricate woodwork on each stair spindle and wooden board. Reaching out, I let my finger slide across the swirled pattern as I traced the display.
“Wow,” I murmured before lifting my now dusty finger and having to wipe it on my jeans.
“Sorry about that,” Colton said as he sheepishly shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head to the side. He seemed embarrassed. “The cleaning crew mainly focused on getting the debris cleared.”
I didn’t want to like the guy and let him off the hook, he owned my home after all, but I did feel bad for him.
“No harm done,” I said and asked him to continue showing me around.
I already knew the layout of the house having spent hours pouring over the original blueprints. I always thought they’d be a nice touch to have framed and hung on the wall.
There were three bedrooms on the lower level and six on the upper. Colton spoke about converting two of the lower rooms into something else since he had no need for that many bedrooms. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that the house would make a perfect bed-and-breakfast, but he did not seem like the kind of person to welcome strangers into his home. From what information Mom told us over dinner these past few nights, Colton had been chased by paparazzi since he started playing for the New York Renegades. I couldn’t fault them for calling him one of the hottest men on ice. He was definitely easy on the eyes.
We carefully ascended the stairs to take in the second level. It was mainly bedrooms and baths, but there was a sitting room and really intricate alcoves down the hallways. I peeked in as many of the rooms as I could. Torn wallpaper cascaded down the walls and disgusting carpet covered the floors. I knew there was original hardwood underneath and I hoped for Colton’s sake that some of it was salvageable, if not all. I may have already started noting a mental list of people he could contact to have it assessed.
Damage from the old oak tree left the east facing walls covered in plywood and builder’s paper.
“The contractor says we’ll need to pretty much rebuild the entire back side of the house. The water damage is too severe.”
“That’s a shame, but unavoidable.”
“The third story is probably my favorite. It’s just one giant open space.” The bed and breakfast idea sprung forward in my mind again. If it was as open as he said, that would make a great master suite. Away from the guests, but still close by if needed.
“That sounds nice. Any thought on what you’d do with it?”
“I have no idea. I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that this house is in as good of shape as it is considering everything it went through and how old it is.”
Colton and I took the back hall stairs down to the kitchen area where we stepped into a butler’s pantry. It was larger than my entire apartment in New York.
“Did the contractor give you any idea on what needs to be done?” I asked as we stepped into the kitchen that looked like a tornado had spun through. Delicately, I reached out and ran my finger across the old wooden countertops. There were knicks and scratches worn into the block.
“Honestly, he said he was surprised it was still standing. It needs a lot of work, pretty much from the ground up. Plumbing, electrical, all of that needs to be upgraded. We’ll use what we can, but most of it will be taken down.”
My heart seized. Colton sounded as if the news meant he could design something brand new, tearing down what was already here. The bones of this house were good. We were standing in the middle of it, after all.
“So, what’s your plan? You going to tear it down and put some modern castle in its place? The new Crawford homestead?” I seethed in anger as I turned toward him using my trusty notebooks as my shield as I poked at his chest.
“Whoa!” he replied, clutching my finger with his hand. “What has your panties in a twist?”
Chapter Nine – Colton
When she gasped in disgruntled anger, I realized my mistake. Before I could release her finger, she used that white, plastic binder and pelted my shoulder with it. She had one hell of a swing.
“Excuse me, but you do not ever get to think about my panties.”
Well, that was all I was going to think about now.
“I’m sorry, you just caught me off guard. I spent a million dollars on this place. We both know the property isn’t worth that.”
“Then why buy it?” she asked me, her blue eyes shimmering beneath long, dark lashes.
“Because something about this house reminded me of a place I grew up. I have no intention of tearing it down unless it’s absolutely necessary, Autumn,” I said, wishing Ms. Cathy could see this place.
