I make a conscious effort to keep it professional. We stand side by side in front of his fireplace, contemplating the intimidating rounded snout mounted on his living room wall. Usually, I'm pretty adventurous with my designs but I don't think I can make the moose head work.
Walker responds with an aloof shoulder shrug and a tilt of his head. Pretty much the same response he's given to every suggestion I've made since the beginning of this meeting. He didn’t even flinch when I proposed that we get rid of his beloved pool table.
"Are you sure you don't mind saying goodbye to your antlered friend?" I grin at him.
He rises up on his tiptoes and yanks the hideous thing off the wall. He tosses it atop a pile of dried firewood, then flashes me a delicious smirk. "If you think the moose head has to go, then the moose head has to go."
I know he could care less about upgrading his living space. But he wants to support me. I have a sneaky suspicion that's the only reason he requested my design services. And I do appreciate having him in my corner. So, I intend to pour my all into this project. Besides, he's a good man, he works hard and he deserves a beautiful home, somewhere he'll feel happy and relaxed and cozy. He may find this project trivial right this moment, but by the time I'm done, he'll realize the value of this undertaking.
Throughout the morning, he's been popping in and out to check in with me while keeping an eye on his farm.
Structurally, the cabin is gorgeous with its high ceilings and its wood beams. But from a decor perspective, it’s almost depressing. It could use some color, some light, some happy. I've spent my time taking notes and jotting down ideas, digging through closets and taking measurements to really understand the space I’m working with. It’s a bit tedious, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.
Actually, I'm downplaying it—I'm straight-up giddy.
Things in my life are finally spinning in the right direction. Everything is moving forward with my motherhood plan. I’m getting my side business off the ground in the mornings. I don't feel quite so stuck anymore.
Sure, I still spend most evenings catering to drunken fools and mopping up beer at the bar, but this is a start. And I'm optimistic about how everything is coming together. Things are lined up for me to have a nice chunk of savings in my bank account long before the baby arrives, even assuming I get knocked up on the first or second go.
"I know you're busy but do you have a second to go over the design concept?" I ask, flipping to a blank page in my notebook. "Just to make sure we're on the same page."
"I have a second." Walker pushes the sleeves of his flannel back to his elbows then drags a thick forearm across his forehead. The simple action is downright destabilizing. The man's looking all rugged, muscles bulging and sweat dripping down the sides of his face. And somehow, he still smells really sexy.
He’s wearing these tight, faded jeans, hugging his body in all the best places. Who knew a man’s ass could be so sexy? And the front—oh my god—even better. How does he even climb up onto that tractor all day, molded into those tight pants? Or chase those sheep that keep getting loose?
His throat clears. “Penn, you okay?"
I shake myself out of my stupor. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Let's start, shall we?"
In a snap, I'm back in professional mode. "The cabin is gorgeous and cozy but super dark," I tell him, "So I have some creative ways in mind to brighten it up." I grin at him and my heart almost stops when he grins back.
I lead my friend through his house, room by room, laying out my vision for each individual space. Walker follows behind me, looking adorably lost in his own home.
"In here, I was thinking we could do a breezy pastel on the ceiling and a feature wall with some fun wallpaper." We're squeezed into the bathroom. "Don't worry," I say in the face of his skeptical expression. "It'll be manly. Maybe a geometric pattern or something monochromatic. I'll make sure it's a design you like." I lay a hand on his forearm to reassure him. "My number one priority is that you be comfortable while you—"
"Number two." He nods toward the toilet. His nostrils twitch with restrained laughter.
I roll my eyes. "Cheesy and disgusting, Walker. Cheesy and disgusting."
Pivoting on my heel, I spin away from him so he won't see me struggling against my laughter. I may be acting annoyed but it's good to see my friend playing, enjoying this moment. He’s always reluctant to have outsiders in his home. I’d feared he'd be uptight about having me all up in his space, making changes. His poop jokes may be gross and immature but his light demeanor is really putting me at ease today.
I work my way down the hallway, feeling my own excitement in each step I take. "For the kitchen, I'm thinking wide plank floors. A Portuguese tile backsplash. Maybe experiment with some pattern clash on the walls. I want the space to look fresh and unexpected without having to yank out plumbing and tear down walls. This cabin is an architectural gem so I want to keep demolitions to a minimum. I’ll make sure to mention that to the contractor when we do our walkthrough next week. Anyway, I’ve got a bunch of coupons for wallpaper samples I'm excited to try out.” I fan out a deck of swatches in his face.
From the perplexed look on my B-F-F's crinkled brow, I can tell that I've lost him. I know I'm talking a million miles per minute but I can't help it. I'm excited.
He does that shoulder shrug thing again. “Whatever you think is best,” he interrupts, digging his wallet out of his pocket and handing me a credit card. “I trust your judgement.” He
