Page 9 of The Summer We Made Promises (The Destin Diaries #3)

V ivien pulled into the driveway of the stunning modern home overlooking Four Prong Lake in the heart of one of Destin’s most upscale areas, and shook her head with a half-laugh. All she could see was sleek lines, soaring glass, and tropical landscaping that looked plucked from a resort catalog.

And not a broken sprinkler head in sight.

Had she really thought Danny Sullivan was a fake handyman? Well, he had doused her in water and had all the markings of a con artist. So, the mistake was understandable but, whoa, she’d been so wrong about him.

Now she knew that Danny was a successful independent hedge fund manager who had moved here to keep an eye on his prickly widowed sister, Fiona Buckman, who was Vivien’s client.

That meant he had both a soft heart and a thick skin.

She also knew he’d lived here less than a year, had another place in New York, and that he looked awfully good without his shirt on.

Not that how he looked mattered. She was here to give him some professional help with “a big empty space”—at least that was how he’d described it when she’d seen him at Tessa’s event a few days ago.

Who cared that he was charming, handsome, and had that wry sense of humor that Vivien found so attractive in a man?

And Peter was jealous of… How did he put it? The dude could barely wipe his drool around you.

As if, Peter.

Anyway, the only thing that needed to be attractive for this job was his budget—based on the look of this place, she assumed it was—and her design work.

The oversized front door opened before she reached it.

Danny leaned against the frame, barefoot, wearing dark blue shorts and a short-sleeved button-down. But it was his relaxed and mildly amused expression on a very handsome face that got her attention.

“I turned the sprinkler system off to avoid another disaster.”

She gave him a lighthearted thumbs-up. “And I purposely wore my lucky Belgian linen pants to assure you that you did no lasting damage with a wayward valve.”

He let his gaze sweep over her with appreciation. “I’m so glad. They looked well and truly destroyed the last time I saw them. How did you manage it?”

“You met the lady who owns the bridal salon, right? She did me a solid.”

“I hope you’ll let me cover the cost,” he said, gesturing for her to step inside.

She glanced around and let out a light and playful whistle at the blinding sunlight pouring over Travertine floors and a wide staircase with a wrought-iron railing. “Oh, you will, trust me.”

He laughed. “You’re a good sport after that spontaneous baptism. And you’d never forgive me if you could have seen me at war with the water valve. I was pressing buttons like it was a game-show buzzer. You were the unfortunate prize.”

She smiled at his effortless charm. “Can you blame me for thinking you were scamming Fiona?”

“Because of my tragic lack of home improvement skills?”

“That, and the fact that you had…very un-handyman-like energy.”

He regarded her, arms crossed. Eyes that fell somewhere between silver and blue studied her as a slow smile added subtle dimples to his features. “What kind of energy did I have?”

Vivien lifted her chin, amused enough to be honest and meet his banter with her own. “There was a reason I dubbed you The Hapless Handyman.”

He threw his head back with a hearty laugh. “Tell me there’s a T-shirt, please.”

“Don’t tempt me, Hapless.”

He chuckled. “And then tell me I’ve lost that title.”

“Yes,” she assured him, hesitating when she thought about the new nickname Tessa had hung on him—the Hedge Fund Hunk.

Danny narrowed his eyes, teasing, “Don’t think I didn’t see that mental pause. That’s the face of a woman sitting on something much worse.”

“Now, you’re just…Mr. Sullivan, my newest client.”

“It’s Danny.” He gestured her through the entryway toward the stairs.

“You want to see my blank canvas, Picasso? Or look around the rooms that are ‘furnished,’ and I do use that term with the lowest possible expectations. There’s minimalist and then there’s…

” He pointed to a nearly empty open-concept space. “This.”

She glanced around and took in what was visible—a cream leather sectional that she didn’t love, but knew cost a fortune, an empty dining room, and a gourmet kitchen with a massive center island. It was all very livable, if not “decorated.”

The floor plan spilled out to a pool deck that overlooked the twenty-five-acre lake surrounded by beautiful homes much like this one. The lots were tight and the houses close, but the water view made up for that. Like many of the homes, he had a dock, but no boat.

It was clear he’d put his time and money into the outside, with a large seating area, pool furniture, another kitchen, and more gorgeous plants and trees.

“I know, I know.” He sounded apologetic. “It has Airbnb vibes and no…I don’t know. What’s missing besides…everything?”

“Style? Soul? Framed art?”

He cracked up, obviously enjoying the exchange.

“You’re ruthless and I love that, Vivien.

In my own defense, I’ve lived here less than a year and am a certified workaholic.

I spend most of my free time out back. I bought the place because of that whole resort vibe outside.

All of my real furniture and, yes, art is in my condo in Tribeca. ”

“Do you ever go back there or are you pretty much here permanently?” she asked.

“I go back periodically, but…my sister.” He rolled his eyes. “I know she can be difficult, but I do feel it’s important to be nearby since her husband passed away.”

Vivien nodded, knowing just how difficult Fiona could be. “Special place in heaven for you, sir.”

“She’s had some tough breaks and has always been very maternal to me, at ten years my senior.

And when she bought that white elephant house in Indian Bayou and announced she wanted to keep running his business?

” He shrugged. “I knew she’d need help and I was looking for a way out of the New York City grind. It worked.”

“That’s noble and brotherly of you.”

“She would argue with that description.”

Vivien raised a sardonic brow. “Your sister would argue with sunshine.”

“True. But she is my only family. I came down here and this place was on the market, so…I bought it. I mean, I love the woman, but I don’t want to live with her. I’m not that noble or brotherly.”

“Are you staying long enough to really decorate or is this a temporary and quick fix?”

“Eh, not sure yet. But for now, I don’t really want to spend much time or energy on this floor. There’s this blank space upstairs, however…” He motioned to the stairs. “I know it can be something, but I can’t figure out what. Take a look?”

“Absolutely.”

She walked with him up the stairs, using the vantage point to see the whole of the first floor, which had tremendous potential.

“My office and bedroom are all first floor,” he told her.

“I never come up here. But the guest rooms are here, and I do get a decent amount of visits from business colleagues and friends from New York. I’d like a place to hang out that isn’t all about water, swimming, or sunshine.

Not that I mind any of that, I just want options. ”

They reached the top of the stairs, and he led her into a loft space that stretched across the back of the house. Sunlight flooded through more windows overlooking the lake, and an empty expanse of polished white oak floors offered endless possibilities.

“I work from home most of the year,” Danny said. “Thought I’d turn this into something more usable. I don’t have a TV downstairs and don’t really want one, but I’d like a place to watch games and movies, entertain friends.”

Vivien walked the perimeter, her designer’s eye already clicking into gear. “Well, the bones are incredible. High ceilings, great light, and that view…” She turned back toward him. “Do you want a true sports bar vibe? Or something a little more polished?”

“Somewhere in the middle,” he said, crossing his arms and thinking. “Comfortable. Nothing too theme-y. And absolutely no neon beer signs.”

She laughed. “Thank God.”

“I’m nothing like my sister in the design area,” he added.

She gave him a sidelong glance. “In terms of taste or…demands?”

“Both,” he said quickly. “I’m wide open to your ideas and trust your taste to reflect mine. I’d like to keep it in line with my personality, but if I decide I want to sell, it should be neutral enough to do that.”

Nodding, she narrowed her eyes and pictured what she could do. “Like a man cave, but not dark and depressing,” she said. “A wet bar there, a TV on that wall. Comfortable seating, window darkening treatments for when you want to watch a movie.”

“Yes and yes,” he said.

They talked through ideas—stone backsplash, low-profile lighting, modular seating. He loved her idea for a pool table with black felt, so she sketched a few notes on her iPad, and took pictures and measurements.

All the while, she sensed him watching her—not in a way that made her self-conscious, but… aware.

“Would you mind taking a peek at my guest suites, too?” he asked as she closed up her tablet. “They are bare minimum now, and I wouldn’t mind a refresh—art, décor. Maybe matching towels.”

She smiled and followed him down the hall to two good-sized bedrooms that looked a lot like the ones in the Summer House that she’d yet to decorate.

“In fact,” she murmured to herself, looking around. “I could replicate…”

“Pardon?”

“Just thinking. I’m doing several guest rooms in the Summer House and if you don’t mind, I could simply use the same themes and colors. If I buy double the furniture, I’ll get a discount.”

“Sounds good. So you’re doing your own house, too?”

“It’s a family house,” she said. “My brother is sort of the lead on it and I’m staging it for sale.”

His brows rose. “You’re selling that beautiful waterfront property? Why?”

She gave a soft laugh. “How much time do you have? It’s a long story.”

“I have time for a cup of coffee after this, if you’d like.”