“He said that to me too,” I laugh. “But he’s redrawing the plans.”
“Interesting.” Maggie gives me a look that makes me want to squirm. “Veryinteresting.”
“It’s just a window seat,” I say quickly, though we both know it’s not.
“Sure it is.” She sips her coffee, watching me over the rim. “Just like this is just a renovation.”
Before my face can get any hotter, I change the subject. “So, your dad—how’s he doing now?”
She lets me pivot. “Much better with therapy. His speech is almost back to normal, but he still can’t work. That said, he’s taken on the role of Owen’s unofficial quality control manager—inspects everything from his wheelchair and critiques like it’s his job.”
“That explains a lot about Owen’s perfectionism.”
“It’s genetic,” Maggie says with a smile. “But there’s more. After Dad’s stroke… Owen didn’t just give up his career. He ended his engagement, too.”
I nearly spill my coffee. “Owen wasengaged?”
“For about a year. Her name was Veronica. She was a designer, too—they met in Boston. She came here with him for a while, but… small-town life wasn’t for her. She left after six months.”
That hits closer to home than I want to admit. “That must’ve been hard.”
“Harder than he lets on.” Maggie’s gaze sharpens. “Owen doesn’t trust easily. Especially not people who aren’t from here. He’s seen too many come and go.”
“Like me,” I say quietly. “City girl with a wreck of a house.”
“Exactly like you. Which is why it’s interesting that he’s letting you have input. That he’s bringing Finn to work with you. That he mentioned you made good coffee.”
I lift my head. “He said that?”
She grins. “Gotcha. No, he didn’t. But your face sayseverything.”
I groan and cover my face. “There’s nothing to tell. It’s a working relationship. Ihavea rule about it.”
“A rule?” Her eyes sparkle with delight.
“Tiny House Rule #4: No catching feelings for the grumpy carpenter.”
“Youmadea rule?” Maggie looks positively gleeful. “That’s like making a rule not to get wet in a rainstorm.”
“It’s preventative!” I protest. “Like emotional weatherproofing.”
“How’s that going for you?”
Before I can answer, a truck rumbles up outside. Finn perks up and trots to the door.
“Speaking of the grumpy carpenter,” Maggie says, not bothering to lower her voice.
Owen appears in the doorway, tool belt already slung low on his hips. His gaze lands on Maggie, then shifts to me.
“Maggie.” His tone is wary. “What are you doing here?”
“Bringing coffee. Checking on your progress. Dad wants updates.”
“You could’ve called.”
“And miss your sunny morning personality? Never.” She stands and brushes off her jeans. “Besides, I wanted to get to know Penny properly. We barely talked at the hardware store.”
Owen glances at me, something unreadable in his expression. “Did you?”
