Page 16 of Room to Spare (The Fixer Upper #2)

“You don’t have a ton to work with, so I figure primavera with a poached egg is hard to mess up,” Jules replied.

“Well then,” Keaton chuckled. “I can honestly say that’s a combo I never would have come up with.”

Jules grinned, throwing a carrot piece in his direction, which Keaton deftly caught.

“You might want to take notes. Or start calling for pizza. It’ll be new for me too.

It was try this or make breakfast for dinner, and you strike me as the type of guy who likes his meals served at their proper time. ”

“I’m not that bad,” Keaton protested. It turned out the quip had been what was needed to cut the tension.

As Jules cooked, the kitchen began to fill with the comforting aroma of garlic and herbs. They could feel Keaton’s gaze on them, a mix of curiosity and amusement. Jules found themselves smiling despite the mess they were making.

Jules could tell Keaton was trying to let go, even if just for a moment, as he leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, eyes soft with introspection.

It was as if Jules had taken a paintbrush to his carefully ordered life, adding splashes of color in unexpected places.

And they couldn’t deny that they found his quiet amusement oddly comforting.

“This is what culinary magic looks like?” Keaton quipped, dodging a stray bell pepper slice that Jules flicked in his direction.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Jules shot back, laughter bubbling up in their voice. “Besides, you might learn a thing or two.”

Jules’s heart did an odd little flip at the sound of Keaton’s laughter. They wanted to make the too-serious man laugh more often. Then again, they didn’t need yet another reason to crush on him.

“Already picking up on the fact that I’m not a whiz in the kitchen, are you?”

Jules smirked. “It was pretty obvious, yeah.”

“See, you’re not the only one who’s going to benefit from this arrangement,” Keaton said, leaning against the counter with a relaxed posture that encouraged conversation. “Sorry. That was presumptuous of me.”

“I don’t mind,” Jules assured him. “I love cooking, but so do both of my parents, so I don’t get to do it often. Just tell me if there’s anything you don’t like or are allergic to. I’d hate to accidentally kill you.”

They didn’t add that they liked the idea of Keaton wanting them to do the cooking. Once the dream of never settling down had died, the image of their future shifted to one of domestic bliss, having the freedom to pursue their art while taking care of the man they loved.

Don’t go there. That’s not what this is. At all. Ever.

Keaton cleared his throat, quickly looking away. His posture was stiff again, leaving Jules wondering what they’d said wrong. After a few long seconds, Keaton said, “You seem to really like working down at the community center. Is art just a hobby for you?”

“If it could be more, it would be, but there’s not a huge demand for it around here.”

Keaton scoffed. “You might be surprised. If you could make a living doing anything, what would it be?”

Jules considered this for a moment. They didn’t want to give a vague, throwaway answer. “I love doing murals, but again, Maple Hill doesn’t really have many people who’d pay what it would cost to commission something like that.”

“That was true once upon a time, but with more people moving in from Afton and other areas, the demographics are changing. What’s your favorite project you’ve done so far?”

This was something Jules didn’t need time to think about.

“I’m sketching one right now for the basement of the library—an underwater scene with all these vibrant colors.

I’m thinking of adding a touch of iridescent paint to make it pop.

Then we’re going to hang the creatures the kids made this week all over to really transform the children’s area.

We should have waited until at least fall to do that project with them because I know they’re going to keep pestering me until the mural is completed and they’re installed. ”

Keaton nodded, genuine interest lighting up his eyes. “That sounds amazing. I bet the kids will love it. I’m glad we figured out a way for you to stay here. It’d be a shame to lose someone who’s both talented and invested in the future of the community.”

Jules paused, a carrot slice balanced precariously on the edge of the knife.

It was easy to forget, sometimes, that beneath Keaton’s stoic exterior was someone who valued the importance of community the same way they did.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the kitchen seemed to shrink around them, everything else falling away.

“Hey,” Keaton said softly, breaking the silence. “I’m glad you’re here. It can’t be easy staying behind when your family moves away.”

Jules’s heart warmed at the admission, a gentle reassurance they’d made the right decision.

“Thanks. It’s funny. I used to dream about getting away from here, moving to a big city where I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb.

But no matter where I went, I found myself thinking about getting back home. ”

When the timer went off, Keaton took the pot from the stove to drain the pasta while Jules poached the eggs. They imagined spending every night this way. Even if Keaton wasn’t a cook, he could definitely be Jules’s sous chef.

The conversation over dinner flowed as easily as the wine Keaton had opened to accompany the meal.

Jules found themselves talking about everything and nothing—the latest town gossip, their favorite artists, the time they’d ended up accidentally joining a parade in New Orleans.

Keaton listened, laughed, and shared stories of his own, revealing small snippets of his life that Jules hadn’t known about before.

Jules couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment as they watched Keaton eat. The kitchen was a mess, but the meal turned out better than Jules expected.

When the last bite was taken and the dishes were cleared, they lingered at the table, the nearly finished bottle of wine between them.

“Thank you,” Keaton said, his voice low and sincere. “For dinner. For…everything.”

“Anytime,” Jules replied, a soft smile playing at their lips. As long as they remembered it was a horrible idea to hit on the man who’d eventually be their landlord, this arrangement might work out.