‘Oh my goodness, they’re incredible. How on earth do you do this?’ Lyndsey peered closely at the lobster. ‘Eyelashes?’
‘They weren’t easy.’ He chuckled. ‘I wasted an awful lot of glass tryin’ to get them right.’
‘I can’t begin to imagine how long it took. You’ve got incredible patience.’
Their eyes locked. Griff said nothing, hoping she picked up from his silence that he could be patient about them, too. She broke away and moved along to the next panel: a dancing cow.
‘The pink ballet shoes and the tiara are adorable.’
‘Yeah, I’m pretty pleased with them.’
‘So you should be.’
‘Have you eaten yet? I didn’t realize how late it’d gotten. I’ve got a couple of pizzas in the freezer, if that’ll tempt you to join me?’
‘After the monster dish of ice cream you waded through I’m surprised you could eat again for a month.’
‘Hey, I’m a growing guy.’ Griff patted his stomach. ‘So are you taking me up on my offer? There’s a decent chardonnay in the fridge too.’
‘I’d like that. Very much.’ A trace of wistfulness slipped back into her voice, and for a moment he thought she’d add something else, but her lips pressed shut.
‘Why don’t you go on in while I get cleaned up here?’
‘Couldn’t I help? Cleaning is kind of my thing.’
‘Thanks, but it’s tricky, and it’ll go quicker on my own.’
‘Fair enough.’ A frown creased her brow. ‘I can hang around outside if you don’t want me poking around your house while you’re not there.’
‘Feel free to poke around as much as you like. If you want to be useful, you can turn on the oven and stick the pizzas in.’
‘Becca would warn you I’m not much of a cook, but I can just about handle that. Do you have the key?’
‘No need. It’s unlocked. It’s pretty safe around here, and I’m in and out a lot during the day. I never leave the workshop open, though. I’d rather lose what’s in the house than my work.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me. I’ll see you when you’re finished.’
After Lyndsey disappeared back outside, he stood there for a moment. Wondering. Something was up with her, and he longed to discover what it was.
* * *
Lyndsey’s first thought was that Griff’s description of the house—made for practicality, not good looks—had played down its undoubted charm. Rather like the man himself.
She’d stepped straight into an open-plan living space that must’ve originally been two separate rooms. The words ‘log cabin’ equated to dark and dreary in her mind, but here there were three generous windows for the light to flood through, unhampered by curtains or blinds. Lyndsey guessed he’d sanded and varnished the gleaming oak floorboards himself and silently applauded him for not softening them with unnecessary rugs. A red brick fireplace dominated one wall, with an old brown recliner positioned to one side, its leather cracked and faded from years of use. Next to it was a polished brass lamp, angled perfectly for reading, and an end table covered with an uneven stack of books. She couldn’t resist wandering over to check out his tastes and was interested to discover everything from how to create a pond to the latest offering by Ian Rankin, one of her own particular favorites. The three-seater sofa covered in plain dark rust-colored linen looked new, but fitted in perfectly. Lyndsey smiled at the large-screen television mounted on the back wall instead of hidden away like so many people preferred these days. She loved the soft buttery shade of cream he’d painted the walls, the perfect choice for showing off a number of paintings. The girlfriend who labeled his bird-watching and historic barn fascination ‘old-man hobbies’ probably scorned these very traditional, expansive American landscapes, too.
This wasn’t getting the pizzas ready, so Lyndsey pulled herself away from the painting she was standing in front of and wandered down a narrow hallway in search of the kitchen. A lover of clean lines and muted décor herself, she winced at the dated color scheme, although she supposed avocado appliances and fruit-patterned tiles might now be considered retro-chic. She pulled two small pizzas out of the freezer and discovered one huge benefit of the old-fashioned kitchen — the cooker controls were straightforward, so didn’t need a degree in computer science to work out how they functioned. After sticking the pizzas in to bake, she went on a quest for plates, cutlery and wine glasses, giving her the perfect excuse to check out the impressively tidy and well-stocked cabinets.
‘Did you find everything okay?’ Griff appeared in the doorway.
‘Yes, no problem.’
‘Are the pizzas in the oven?’
‘Only just.’
‘Perfect.’ He flashed an endearing smile. ‘I need to go shower out the glass and dust. Open up the wine if you like. I won’t be long.’
As she finished laying the table, Griff strolled back in, his damp freshly washed hair loose around his shoulders and smelling of something citrusy and tempting.
