Poppy’s mouth gaped as she stepped into the entranceway. Pride swelled. The kid in me wanted to snatch her hand and pull her around, showing her every room. But I played it lowkey. Slipped my eager hand into my pocket and tilted back on my heels, giving her time to take it in and admire all I bought.
“Holy shit, Gabe. This place is fantastic.”
“Can I give you a tour?”
“Absolutely.”
As we went along, I pointed out the home’s flaws that bugged me. “The floors have this reddish color to them. God only knows why folks down here like this red pine look.”
“It’s not that red. It’s a blonder hue. I’ve seen red pine. Trust me, this isn’t it. It’s gorgeous.”
“I’m going to have them redone when I go away sometime. They’ll do for now.” I shrugged and waited for her to finish gaping at one of the two inconsequential front rooms that bordered each side of the foyer.
“This would be a great place for an office.” She pointed to a room off to the side that had a partial view of the ocean. I hadn’t decided how I’d use the room, but technically it could be a guest room. The other small room opened into the kitchen. “I thought a lot of these homes came furnished. I’d heard the owners found it easier, as opposed to having to get all the furniture off the island.” She circled the empty, unfurnished room.
“Yeah, it was furnished. I had them remove most of it. Felt like stuff my grandmother would’ve picked out. Shelley hooked me up with a designer, and she’s got great ideas. The living area is all new furniture, as are a couple of the bedrooms.”
“Did you sell it?”
It took me a minute. “The furniture? Nah, Goodwill.” Her eyes bugged out. “It was junk.”
She glanced around the place. “I doubt that.”
“Would you’ve wanted it?” It really wasn’t what I thought of as Poppy’s style.
“I don’t have room. My rental comes furnished, but…” Her voice trailed off, and I let it drop and continued the tour.
I’d laid out my priorities and furnished the main living area and the master bedroom in less than a week’s time. We were in the process of converting the in-law suite over the separate guest house into my office, but Poppy’s idea to convert this area into an office space appealed to me too.
For furniture, I’d mostly thumbed through the Beach RH catalog and selected muted, clean colors. Once we fixed these floors, it would be a suitable space. The expansive deck out front with multiple seating areas and outdoor fireplace ranked as my favorite.
Poppy toured the house with slack-jawed amazement, like she’d never seen anything so nice in her life. The place was nice, but it wasn’t spectacular. If she’d ever been to some of the places in the Hamptons, or Martha’s Vineyard, or any upscale northeast beach locale, she wouldn’t be nearly so impressed. Still, her reaction to my home-in-progress had me puffing out my chest like I’d made a damn good real estate decision.
I opened the refrigerator door, searching to see what Shelley had purchased, and set about putting some grapes in a bowl and finding some crackers and cheese.
“What can I get you to drink?”
“Water’s fine. What’s on the bottom floor?”
“A couple of bedrooms. Originally bunkrooms, but I had the bunks removed and furnished them as proper bedrooms.”
“Can I check them out?”
“Go right ahead. The master suite is upstairs. That’s probably more impressive than downstairs, if you want to check that out.” She paused for a split second, and I thought maybe I’d crossed the line by suggesting she tour my bedroom first, but she simply headed to the stairs and descended to the first floor.
“It’s gorgeous here. You must be so thrilled. It’s like a dream.” Her voice echoed through the foyer.
At my request, Shelley fully stocked the wine refrigerator, and I combed through the options and selected a crisp chardonnay.
I filled the second glass as Poppy called up from the stairwell, “Those bedrooms are absolutely gorgeous. Like, magazine worthy. Straight from a catalog. Stunning.”
I slid the cork back down into the bottle and raised a glass to her. “Move in, then.”
“What?” She half-laughed and rolled her eyes, dismissing me.
“No. Seriously. You mentioned you might need to move. I’ll never go downstairs, at least other than for the outside components. If I wasn’t converting the in-law suite in the guest house, I’d tell you to take that.”
“What are you doing with it?”
“My office.”
“Nice. I bet you have stunning views out there.” She stepped over to the kitchen window that overlooked the street side of the house and checked out the building in question.
“I do.” I popped a grape in my mouth. “And I’m serious. Why should you be paying rent? I’ve got plenty of space here. I’d be upstairs. You’d be downstairs. We’ve got a common area here.” I swept my arm around the kitchen and living area. “Or you could pick one of the bedrooms on this level, but the noise from the den might be distracting. And you’d have your own floor downstairs.”
Her golden waves glimmered in the sunlight as she shook her head, continuing to dismiss the idea with a tight smile.
“Why not?”
“Gabe.” She sipped her wine and then licked her lower lip in a way that made my dick twitch. Her dress draped over the svelte curves of her breast. The dress in its entirety didn’t do her any favors. It hung like a muumuu from the seventies. But when she sat down, it shifted and exposed enticing cleavage.
“Gabe,” she reprimanded.
“Yes.” I lifted my gaze from her breasts. Her cheeks held a pink hue, and I smirked, pleased to see a positive reaction to my blatant perusal.
“If I moved in, we couldn’t date.” She emphasized the word date in a way that I believed we both understood meant to
