“You think?” he says, dry. Patient. But I can feel the thread of tension in him tightening.
“It’s not about strength. It’s about technique.”
“That’s what all the guys say,” I mutter—then freeze. “Did I say that out loud?”
Owen clears his throat. “Maybe switch gears. Document this for your... online thing.”
He saysonline thingthe waypeople sayrash.
“My Instagram renovation journey, thank you very much.” I dust off my hands, grateful for the out.
I snap before-and-during photos of the wall, the tools, a particularly artistic swirl of dust caught in a sunbeam.
“This is weirdly beautiful,” I murmur, framing the light just right. “Breaking something down to build it better.”
“It’s just drywall.”
“It’sneverjust drywall. Everything tells a story, if you frame it right.”
He pauses. “PR training?”
“A little. But PR is about pretending things are fine. This? This is actually real. Messy. Honest.”
He watches me a second too long before turning back to the wall. I set up a time-lapse on my phone and grab my gloves again.
“It’s too quiet in here,” I announce, ten minutes later. “We need music.”
“I work better in silence.”
“Everyone works better with a soundtrack.” I pull out my phone. “I’ve already started a playlist. Beams and Bangers.”
“Beams and... what?”
“Renovation vibes. You’re invited to contribute.”
“I don’t need?—”
“First track!” I say triumphantly, pressing play.
The opening chords ofWrecking Ballfill the space, echoing through exposed studs and dust.
Owen turns slowly, one brow raised. “Seriously?”
“I CAME IN LIKE A WREEECKING BAAALL!” I belt, swinging a fragment of drywall like a microphone.
And then it happens.
Owen laughs.
Not a smirk. Not a breath through his nose. A real, full-bodied laugh that lights up his whole face and sends a shockwave through my ribcage.
“That,” he says when he recovers, “is the most on-the-nose song choice possible.”
“I’m not known for my subtlety,” I say, grinning like an idiot. “Your turn.”
“No.”
“Yes. House rule. If you work on the house, you contribute to the playlist. Reveal your soul, Carver.”
