FOUR

BPOV

I was sitting cross-legged on the lounge floor, my fingertips trailing over the smooth surface of the new oak in its beautiful herringbone pattern. It was coming together better than I'd imagined, and the satisfaction of seeing the renovation take shape felt like a victory all its own.

The sound of the front door opening made me glance up just as Edward walked in, his presence filling the room like he owned the place. He let out a low whistle, a slow grin spreading across his face as he took me in. "Now that's a sexy sight," he said, his voice dripping with a teasing edge.

I smiled up at him, half-focused on my work. "I know, right?" I said, running my hand over the floor with appreciation.

Edward chuckled, shaking his head as he kept his eyes locked on me. "I wasn't talking about the floor," he said, his gaze lingering on me in a way that made my cheeks warm.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "How did your game go this weekend?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from his blatant flirting.

He gave me a mock look of offence. "Oh, you didn't watch?"

I shook my head, suppressing a grin at the wounded puppy look he was giving me. "Sorry, I was kind of busy researching the history of this place."

Edward smirked, undeterred. "Well, we won. And I even blew a kiss to the camera for you."

I let out a laugh, rolling my eyes at his ridiculousness. "Oh, I'm sure that kiss was for me and not the other thousands of women watching you," I said, shaking my head.

"You wound me," Edward said, clutching his chest dramatically. "My heart belongs to you alone, fair lady of the floorboards."

I couldn't help but chuckle at his theatrics. "Speaking of floorboards," I said, gesturing to the room around us, "what do you think?"

Edward's playful demeanour softened as he took in the space, his eyes roaming over the newly installed herringbone pattern. "It's stunning," he admitted, a note of genuine admiration in his voice. "You've really outdone yourself this time."

I beamed with pride, pushing myself up from the floor to stand beside him. "Thanks. It's been a labor of love, that's for sure. I've been digging into the history of the house too. It's fascinating. This place has so much character—it deserves to be brought back to its former glory."

Edward's eyes met mine, a hint of something deeper flickering there. "Sounds like you're really putting your heart into this," he said quietly.

I nodded, feeling that familiar rush of passion for my work. "I guess I am," I said, giving him a small smile.

It was like he could see right through my passion for this project, and that only made me want to share more.

"So, what did you find out about the house?" he asked, moving a little closer and settling himself on the floor next to me.

I shifted slightly to face him, my enthusiasm bubbling over. "Well, it turns out this house was built in the late 1800s. It was originally owned by a wealthy shipping merchant. He spared no expense on the materials and craftsmanship—it was all about making a statement of status and wealth."

Edward's eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. "Seriously? I had no idea it was that old. No wonder it has such a unique vibe."

"Right? And get this," I said, leaning in a bit closer, feeling the thrill of the story. "There are rumours that during Prohibition, this place was used as a speakeasy. Hidden rooms, secret compartments, the works. The guy who owned it was supposedly involved in bootlegging."

Edward's eyes lit up with intrigue. "So, you're saying my house was the place to be during Prohibition? That's kind of badass," he said, a grin spreading across his face.

I laughed, nodding. "Exactly. I mean, I'm not saying you need to restore it back to its illegal roots, but I think we should definitely incorporate some of that history into the design. Maybe a hidden wine cellar or a bar."

Edward's grin turned into something softer, his eyes tracing over my face as I rambled on. "You're really into this, aren't you?" he said, his voice quieter, almost thoughtful.

I felt a flush rise to my cheeks and looked down at my hands, suddenly self-conscious. "Yeah, I guess I am," I said softly. "There's just something about bringing an old place like this back to life. It's like uncovering a story that's been buried for years."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine, and the touch was so light, so unexpected, that it sent a shiver up my spine. "I get it," he said, his voice a little rough around the edges. "It's like this house found the perfect person to tell its story."

I looked up at him, meeting those intense eyes of his, and for a moment, it felt like he wasn't just talking about the house. The air between us seemed to thicken, charged with something that was more than just a passing flirtation.

I cleared my throat, trying to break the moment before it became too heavy. "Well, I'm just glad you're not planning to tear the place down," I said with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

Edward chuckled, leaning back on his hands. "You know, I was actually considering it before you came along. But now, I think I'd rather see what you do with it."

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh, so now you're a believer in my vision, huh?"

He grinned, a spark of mischief returning to his eyes. "Let's just say I'm becoming a fan of your work," he said, his tone teasing yet somehow layered with sincerity."Tell me more about this bar idea. What do you have in mind?"

I grinned, thrilled to share my vision with him. I reached for my sketch pad and flipped to a page where I'd drawn out a concept for the bar area. The design was sleek but with vintage elements that hinted at the house's past. I handed it to Edward, watching his eyes scan over the details.

"So, here's what I'm thinking," I said, pointing at the layout. "We keep it subtle and classic, with dark wood finishes to match the old-school vibe of the house. But we add modern touches—like these built-in shelves for liquor, a brass rail for the footrest, and hidden LED lights to give it a bit of an edge."

Edward's smile grew wider as he studied the sketch, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. "I like it," he said, nodding slowly. "It's got that masculine feel without being too over-the-top. Plus, I could definitely see myself hanging out here."

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit bolder now that he seemed genuinely excited about the idea. "Well, now that I know you're a fancy little hockey player, I thought it made sense for you to have a space to entertain guests," I said with a grin. "I figured you might want a place where you and your teammates can unwind after a game or where you can host your post-victory celebrations."

Edward looked up from the sketch, his eyes meeting mine with a playful glint.

"Post-victory celebrations, huh?" Edward said, his voice low and teasing. "And will you be joining these celebrations, fancy little designer?"

I felt a flush creep up my neck at his implication. "Well, someone has to make sure you don't spill drinks all over my beautiful new bar," I quipped back, trying to keep my tone light.

He chuckled, his eyes never leaving mine. "I'll have you know I'm very careful with my drinks. But I wouldn't mind having you around to keep an eye on things."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "I'm sure you wouldn't. But let's focus on finishing the renovation first, shall we?"

Edward's expression softened, and for a second, he looked at me like I was more than just someone fixing up his house. "I think you're right," he said quietly, a hint of something deeper in his voice. "And you're making that happen in ways I didn't even know I wanted."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words got stuck in my throat. The way he was looking at me—like I was more than just the designer—made me wonder if maybe, just maybe, he was starting to feel something more too.

Edward reached over and grabbed my sketch pad, his fingers brushing lightly against mine as he took it. Without waiting for permission, he began flicking through the pages, his eyes focused and a little too intense as he studied my work.

"Wow," he said, sounding genuinely impressed. "You're seriously talented, you know that? Why don't you have your own design business yet?"

I felt a mix of pride and embarrassment at his praise, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Thanks," I said, smiling softly. "It's mostly a money thing. Starting a business from scratch isn't exactly cheap. Plus I was sick a few years back so that kinda put a dent in progress."

Edward nodded, still flipping through the sketches, but his eyes flicked up to meet mine. "Yeah, I get that," he said thoughtfully. "But with the way you're handling this project, I have no doubt my mother's connections could open some serious doors for you."

I nodded, my heart swelling a little at his encouragement. "Yeah, that's the hope," I said. "Working with Esme could honestly be my big break."

He paused on one of the sketches, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked at me. "You said something about being sick a few years back," he said gently, curiosity in his voice. "What happened?"

I bit my lip, the easy smile slipping from my face. "Yeah, I did, but…" I took a deep breath, forcing a small smile. "It's not really something I like to talk about."

Edward's expression softened, his eyes searching mine for a moment. He seemed to be weighing whether to push further or let it go. Finally, he just nodded, his voice low and understanding. "Okay," he said softly. "I won't press."

I appreciated the way he didn't force the issue, the way he seemed to respect my boundaries. But there was something in his eyes that told me he wasn't just going to forget about it either. And strangely, that made me feel safe. Like maybe, just maybe, I could trust him with the things I wasn't ready to say yet.

Edward suddenly clapped his hands together, a determined look on his face, and pointed at me like he'd just made a life-changing decision. "Alright, that's it," he said with a grin that made me instantly suspicious. "I'm taking you out for food, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

I blinked at him, half-amused, half-confused. "What? Why?"

"Because," he said, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "you've been busting your ass on this house, and I think you deserve to be rewarded with a hot dog from the best stand in the city. And trust me, I know the place."

I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head at his sudden enthusiasm. "You're bribing me with a hot dog?"

"Hey, this isn't just any hot dog," he said, raising an eyebrow and giving me a teasing smile. "This is the best hot dog you'll ever have in your life. I promise you won't regret it."

I rolled my eyes but felt my defences weakening against his ridiculous charm. "Fine," I said with a playful sigh. "Lead the way, Cullen. Let's see if this hot dog lives up to the hype."

Edward's grin widened, and he looked at me like he'd just won something. "Oh, it will," he said confidently. "And by the end of this, you'll wonder why you ever doubted me."

And just like that, I realised that maybe, just maybe, there was no saying no to Edward Cullen.