“It hurts to hit walls in your search for the truth, but give Swede the benefit of the doubt. He’s a master.”
Holly cocked a brow. “Hacker?”
Simon shrugged. “Master...hacker...whatever gets the job done. The main takeaway is that Swede is one of the good guys. He only goes after data that will save lives.”
“That’s reassuring,” Holly said, though not entirely reassured.
Simon glanced at his watch. “I’m supposed to meet the realtor in fifteen minutes. Can you be ready in ten?”
“I just need to brush my teeth and put on my shoes.” She rose and started to collect their plates.
Simon took them from her. “I’ll clean up while you find your shoes.”
“But you cooked. That means I clean.”
“Normally, I’d agree, but I’ll do it this time.”
“He’s a bodyguard, a cook and chief bottle-washer. A woman could fall in love with a man like that,” she muttered as she stepped back into the houseboat. A little louder, she said, “Doesn’t get better than that.
Falling in love with Simon was completely out of the question, off the table, wiped clean from her mind.
Uh-huh. Now that the thought was there, it wouldn’t go away.
Stop now. She was not going to fall in love with Simon. And as for having a man in her life that did all the things he did and was probably good in bed, well...
Don’t get used to it.
Chapter 6
Don’t get used to it.
Holly repeated this mantra in her mind, which was better than repeating, "Don’t fall in love," over and over. She was afraid that if she did, the idea would become ingrained and she’d obsess over trying to free her thoughts of love, a house with a picket fence and half a dozen children playing in the yard. It didn’t help that she’d agreed to go house hunting with the man.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up at the address the realtor had texted to Simon.
A sleek, black SUV was parked in the driveway. As Simon brought his truck to a halt, a tall, dark woman emerged from the house dressed in a cream-colored pantsuit that complemented her sultry dark skin. Standing on the top step in three-inch, shiny gold stilettoes, with a chunky necklace and belt that matched her shoes, she looked like a model from a fashion magazine. If it were anyone else but LaShawnda Jones, Holly might have been intimidated.
“LaLa,” she called out and hurried up the stairs to hug the woman. “Simon didn’t tell me you were his realtor.”
“Mr. Sevier didn’t tell me he was bringing my sweet Holly Lolly.” LaShawnda returned the hug, then straightened and held out her hand. “And you must be Mr. Sinclaire Simon Sevier. So nice to meet you in person.”
“Oh, you two haven’t met?” Holly asked.
“We spoke on the phone,” Simon said and shook LaShawnda’s beautifully manicured hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Oh, please, darlin’, don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel decades older. And I’m not ready for that travesty.” She released his hand and stared from him to Holly. “You said you were looking for a modest home. Not too big, not too little. That leaves your options open for just about anything. I’ve lined up a few properties, but it would really help if you could narrow it down a bit.”
“I’ve never bought a house,” Simon said. “I’ve only ever lived in apartments and now the boarding house. I’m not even sure what to consider.”
“It’s always good to get the opinion of the woman with whom you will be sharing your abode.” She tipped her head toward Holly. “You’re one step ahead of some by including your woman in the decision-making process.”
Holly shook her head. “Oh, we’re not buying a house together.”
“No?” LaShawnda raised a beautifully arched brow. “What a shame, Holly Lolly. He’s such a delicious specimen. Still, a woman’s opinion is always good to have in choosing a home. If you follow me, I’ll show you the first on our agenda.”
She led them through the midcentury modern home, which had been remodeled with new wood flooring and an updated kitchen with gold accents and hardware. It was stark, a little masculine and cold.
By the time they stepped back out on the porch, Holly had made up her mind. But this would be Simon’s home, not hers, so she waited to get his take.
