Page 1 of Room to Spare (The Fixer Upper #2)

ONE

Keaton’s apartment flickered to life, the soft glow of artificial sunrise bleeding across the ceiling.

He’d programmed everything to perfection—lights that brightened in slow increments, a thermostat that adjusted to seventy-two degrees, a coffee maker scheduled to brew in twenty minutes.

It was supposed to make mornings easier, but lately, even the illusion of control couldn’t fill the hollow space that echoed around him.

He rolled over, hand brushing against the untouched pillow beside him. The sheets were still perfectly smooth on that side, had been for longer than he cared to admit. He’d spent a small fortune on these automated luxuries, but what was the point when there was no one to appreciate them with him?

As tempting as it was to stay in bed this morning, Keaton threw back the sheets and swung his feet to the floor. He dressed quickly, reminding himself that the sooner he left the apartment, the sooner he’d get back to his coffee.

After stretching, one leg bent behind him, Keaton checked the weather app on his phone. Clear skies, forty-eight degrees. Ideal running conditions, especially for early March. Keaton rolled his shoulders, the weight of the day already pressing in.

He grabbed his earbuds, selected an upbeat playlist filled with eighties hair band music, and stepped out into the early morning quiet of Maple Hill.

Three miles. Just enough to clear his head and wake up his muscles before facing another day of being everything to everyone.

The town was still asleep, the only movement the occasional flicker of porch lights and the distant hum of a delivery truck.

Keaton’s sneakers hit the pavement in a steady rhythm, the familiar streets unfolding around him.

Storefronts he’d helped renovate, houses his father had built over the past four decades.

Legacy. Responsibility. They pressed against his ribs with each breath, as constant as his footfalls.

He slowed as he reached this year’s mural site, three blank walls waiting for transformation.

His sister Paige had spearheaded the project, arguing Maple Hill needed more public art, more color.

His mother, ever the real estate-minded pragmatist, had agreed because she thought it would add the sort of charm people wanted when considering a move to a small town.

While he’d scoffed at first, there was no denying the downtown area was more vibrant after last year’s murals were completed.

Keaton paused, running his hand along the rough brick surface. Something caught his eye—a splash of vibrant blue paint on the sidewalk, fresh enough that it hadn’t been worn away by foot traffic. Someone had been here recently, touching up one of the existing murals.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss the strange pang in his chest. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the mural project.

He just…didn’t have room for it. Business at Anderson Homeworks had been growing over the past nine months, and the trend showed no signs of slowing down.

His days were already stretched thin, his mind constantly juggling timelines, budgets, and personnel issues.

The sun crested the horizon as he turned back toward home, the first cracks of daylight spilling over the rooftops. Now, if only he could get through the day without someone shoving a stick of dynamite into his carefully constructed schedule.

By the time Keaton walked into the office, Finn was already at his desk, brow furrowed at his laptop. He glanced up, then quickly minimized whatever he’d been working on, a guilty flush creeping up his neck.

Keaton narrowed his eyes. “What was that?”

He and Finn had been friends since kindergarten, so Keaton was used to his office manager’s quirks.

But this felt like something else. He’d been acting especially odd for the past couple of months, disappearing during lunch breaks and taking calls in the stairwell.

Keaton had been too swamped to pry, but the secrecy was becoming impossible to ignore.

“Nothing.” Finn took a sip of his coffee, looking way too guilty for a man who handled spreadsheets like they were sacred texts.

Obviously, he wasn’t here early to catch up on this month’s accounts payable.

“Just messing around before we get to work for the day. Do you have any big plans for the weekend?” Finn asked without looking up, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Thrilling,” Keaton deadpanned. “If I get really crazy, I’m debating some light reading on the new zoning ordinances. I also have a land survey to go over on that land parcel we’re trying to buy on the west side of town.”

Saying the words aloud made him feel pathetic.

When had his life narrowed to this pinpoint of work and more work?

There had been a time when his weekends were filled with hiking trips, impromptu road trips to catch a concert in the city, and late nights at bars where the possibilities seemed endless.

Ever since his dad had retired and handed the business over to him, his personal life had become nonexistent.

Finn hummed. “Living the dream. Have you ever considered taking an actual day off? Most people can’t wait to be in charge so they can hand the work off to others.”

Before Keaton could retort, the door swung open and Luke strolled in, holding out a large iced coffee. “Figured you’d need this. You’ve looked like shit all week, so it was a pretty safe assumption. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends.”

Keaton took it with a nod of thanks, ignoring the jab.

Funny how Luke had no problem enabling his addiction on the mornings he stopped by Brew & Barrel for himself.

Keaton had scoffed when he’d heard one of his classmates was opening a combination coffee shop and brew pub, but it turned out to be a smart decision since they could operate that many more hours of the day. “What’s wrong with my coffee?”

Luke smirked. “Nothing. If you enjoy drinking motor oil. Besides, you hate drinking coffee once it cools, which is why I got you something that’s meant to be cold. Dump it into your insulated cup and it won’t even be watered down.”

Finn snorted. Keaton rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

It was true that the coffee from the office coffee maker was less than ideal.

At some point, he’d replace it, but until then, he could run upstairs to his apartment if he was really desperate.

That was one of the perks of living above the office—though lately, it felt less like a perk and more like a prison of his own making.

By eight, the rest of the team had trickled in, and the office hummed with quiet efficiency.

Keaton ran through project updates, adjusting schedules, and approving change orders.

The historic downtown renovation was progressing, but not without its complications.

Permits, timelines, subcontractor delays.

It was a balancing act, and Keaton was the guy keeping everything from toppling over.

His next apartment renovation was another thing entirely. His dad was always on him to diversify his assets, and an opportunity had recently landed in his lap.

Finn and Luke exchanged looks when he pulled up the plans.

“So, this place,” Luke said, tapping the screen. “It’s an investment property?”

Keaton’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

They both knew about his idea, but neither was jazzed about it.

The building had a bit of a reputation in town as an eyesore that should be torn down, but Keaton had seen promise in the structure when he’d walked through.

If they’d heard his mom’s rants about the lack of suitable rental properties in town, they’d change their tunes.

Keaton’s mom was in a unique position. So much of her success was because of the local construction industry, but she still had a heart of gold and wanted to see everyone thrive.

Keaton would love to build starter homes at an affordable price, but the only way to do that in the current economy would be to skimp on quality.

That was one thing his dad’s—now his—company would never do.

So this seemed like a decent compromise.

Finn arched a brow. “You know how much it’s going to cost per unit to make them habitable and appealing enough to pull in the rent you’ll need to charge so you’re not sinking your entire retirement fund into it?”

“I do.” Not only had he gone over the numbers multiple times, but he’d also consulted with his dad before signing anything.

Half the buildings in this city were built by him, and even in his retirement, he hadn’t taken his finger off the pulse of the local housing situation.

“I also know there are fewer than a half-dozen rentals currently available in town, and that’s not because there isn’t demand for it.

It’s ludicrous that this building sat empty for as long as it did. Yes, it’s run down, but it’s solid.”

Finn had nothing to say about that. It was well known that they were in the middle of a housing crisis.

Keaton wanted to be part of the solution, even if it meant adding more to his already overflowing plate.

He wouldn’t tell his friends, but he already had his eye on a parcel of land at the north edge of town and was toying with the idea of putting in an offer to create even more rental units.

Houses were one-time income, whereas rentals created constant cash flow, even if that money came with the headaches of being a landlord.

Luke leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Does that mean you’re eventually going to move out of the upstairs apartment and into one of the units there?”

Keaton didn’t answer immediately. He hadn’t even considered that. Taking up a unit he could rent out wasn’t an option. “No. Those are to make money, and then my place would be sitting empty.”