Your Dream and Mine Read Online Free

carpenter’s lace and green porch begged to be seen.
    Thomasina smiled and moved out of the sun, asking. “How did you get along with your tree cutting?”
    “It went about like the rest of my day.” Trace gestured toward the board spanning the porch. “The paint’s wet. The only way in is over that board. Or have you lost interest?”
    “I was having second thoughts. But,” she admitted. “I’m here. I may as well look.”
    When she phrased it that way, Trace wanted to tell her not to put herself out, that he’d have no trouble renting the place. With the city limits near by, Liberty Flats had become a bedroom community. It was a seller’s market, and renters were even easier to find than buyers. But he didn’t want her mistaking his words for pressure. He said instead, “I’ll get a wider board.”
    “This’ll do.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Why not? If Nadia can trip the light fantastic on a balance beam, I can inch across a two-by-four.” Thomasina tossed her purse into the back of his truck. She slipped out of her shoes and set them on the tailgate beside her purse.
    “Nadia?”
    “You know. The gymnast?”
    “Oh, her. Sure!” Trace grinned and vaulted onto the tailgate to offer her a hand up. “You’re dating yourself, though. That was a few Olympics ago.”
    “Twenty-seven and holding,” she said with a puckish grin. “The cat’s out of the bag, now. How about you?”
    “Thirty-four,” he said, surprised she would ask.
    “I’ll go first, make sure it’ll hold.” He strode across the two-by-four, then turned to see her tip her face and start after him with no sign of hesitancy.
    “And she nails the landing!” Thomasina quipped as she stepped into the entryway beside him.
    Trace answered her with a grin and ushered her inside.
    The living room was long and a little narrow. But the high ceiling and a bay window gave it a spacious feel. Thomasina circled the room and stopped to visualize filmy sheer curtains at the windows. The walls were freshly painted a warm eggshell shade, a nice backdrop for her floral sofa with its splash of Victorian colors. “This is lovely.”
    Pleased, Trace led her toward the kitchen where plush carpet gave way to recently installed linoleum. High, old-fashioned built-in cupboards lined one wall. There was a recessed nook for dining, with a table and benches built in. A stove and refrigerator were in place.
    “Appliances included, as long as they hold out. They were here when I bought the house. Or do you have your own?”
    “No.” Thomasina saw that the wooden countertop matched the table. “Maple, isn’t it?”
    Trace nodded as her hands trailed over the countertop. They were sensible hands—nails clipped short, lightly tinted. Slender and smooth and graceful to the eye. “Cut on Will’s sawmill. The finish is supposed to protect the wood against water. We’ll see if it lives up to expectations.”
    “I like it,” said Thomasina, impressed with the craftsmanship.
    He gave a modest shrug. “Thought I’d try something different. The laundry room is through here, with a back entry off the porch.”
    “My own laundry room?”
    “Shared, actually,” he said, and unlocked a second door.
    Thomasina realized that the laundry room with its washer, dryer and utility sink connected the two apartments at the rear of the house. Another door lead out to a screened-in porch. Her eye was drawn to the porch by bright-colored hanging plants that swayed in the breeze coming through the screened walls. A wicker love seat and an old-fashioned swing like the one on the front veranda just begged to be tried out. She pushed the door open.
    “Careful,” Trace warned, and stretched an arm across the door, preventing her from stepping out on the porch. “The paint’s still wet.”
    “Here, too?”
    “I didn’t read the drying time until after the fact.” He turned back the way they had come. “The stairs are off the kitchen.”
    Thomasina lingered a moment in