One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,25

me, what is it with you handsome men? Do you always run in packs?” She laughed. “With a last name like Wolf, you’d think I’d have better insight into men than most.”

Donovan only nodded, where once upon a time he would’ve laughed right along with her. “Come on in and take a look around.” He held the door open and she smiled at him as she stepped over the threshold.

Donovan decided it was best to set things straight with her from the start. “At first I thought I’d put the lodge and the hardware store on the market as is. But now that I’m here, I’ve decided to fix up the lodge to get a better price for it in the spring.” He watched her reaction to see how disappointed she was that both properties wouldn’t be listed now.

She smiled, seeming happy with the arrangement. “I don’t expect anything to move until the spring anyway. You’ll fix up the lodge, but what about the hardware store?”

He shook his head as he set Boomer in the box he’d made up for him using one of the towels from the downstairs restroom for padding. “The hardware store is too big of a project. For the lodge, though, I’d love a list of contractors who could oversee the remodeling, as I don’t plan to hang around.”

Her face fell at that.

“I promised my dad that I’d move to Florida,” he explained.

“What about your place in San Jose?” Immediately, she looked embarrassed. “I Googled you. Something I do with all my clients.” She stepped closer. “Especially ones I haven’t seen since high school.”

He could tell she was flirting with him and it wasn’t completely unpleasant. Courtney was nice, her blond hair flawless and her green eyes incredible. But he wasn’t really into the pageant type. Sure, he’d dated his share of beautiful women, especially when he needed some arm candy for events in Silicon Valley . . . but they’d only been concerned with getting their photo into magazines. Hope popped into his mind. He would’ve been proud to have someone like Hope on his arm. She was genuine. At least that was the Hope he’d known seventeen years ago.

He pointed to the other side of the house. “Courtney, come take a look at the kitchen. I think it’s going to need a lot of updates.”

She followed him and started speaking as soon as her foot hit the linoleum. “A complete gut . . . down to the studs. A modern, professional kitchen from top to bottom would be a huge selling point. Everything updated, all personal touches gone. Sleek cabinets, professional-grade appliances, and maybe concrete flooring.”

“Do you know any . . .” Donovan’s eyes landed on the backsplash of handpainted tiles in the style of Dresden Plate quilt blocks, the tiles Nan had painted herself. He’d been going to ask Courtney about an interior decorator, but he didn’t trust her. She’d probably volunteer herself. Courtney was all hair spray, fake nails . . . and she wanted to gut everything in the kitchen! He didn’t want the lodge to be sleek or glamorous. His grandparents’ lodge deserved an authentic Alaskan look—maybe tile in the kitchen, stained hardwood floors throughout, bearskins, and bright curtains. “Um, uh, do you know a good floor guy?”

“Sure. We’ll tear up this dreadful stuff. Don’t you worry.” She glanced around at the walls. “Actually, you should paint all the wood in the lodge. It would give it the modern look it needs.”

Donovan cringed. He couldn’t paint the wood that had been felled from the surrounding forest. His grandparents would be rolling over . . . He wished he’d never called Courtney, as she was already putting herself in charge of what was or wasn’t going to be in the lodge. He panicked. “Well . . . I know you have ideas, but we’ll have to clear everything with my interior decorator first.”

Courtney lifted one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Oh? Who did you get?”

Now he was really in trouble. “The same person who did my apartment in San Jose.” Which was a whopper. He and Rick had decked out his bachelor pad, making it a man-cave dream—industrial, sterile . . . not Alaskan at all.

“Sure,” Courtney said again. “I’ll get him locally sourced swatches and tile samples.”

“Her,” Donovan corrected. He had no idea where that came from.

“Just let me know where to send them,” Courtney said.

“I’ll take care of it.” Donovan just wanted this conversation to end. “Let’s take a look at