Bacon and Brie Sandwiches
Blake
* * *
I was fidgety as all hell.
But I was ready.
Or at least that was what I told myself.
I’d had a quick shower, took off my makeup and put on fresh (minimally, for what I had planned it could only be minimal).
I’d found the drawers and open rail Dair had cleared for me in his closet (he’d obviously used a former room to build a walk-in, a decision I wholeheartedly approved, ditto with his bathroom, and my approval). So I quickly unpacked.
Spritz of perfume.
Daring red nightie and matching string bikini panties.
And I was ready.
I hoped.
“God,” I moaned to myself as I walked out to the stairwell.
I had no idea in his big (and tall) house, if he’d hear me.
What I did know was that you didn’t hire an interior designer and say, “Do whatever.”
You were involved in the process. You gave your preferences. You guided the project.
And if his house (not to mention his clothes and his choice of car) was anything to go by, Dair had exceptionally good taste.
His living room was a contrast of lights and darks. It was more formal than the lounge. There were patterns and textures in the soft furnishings. Personality to the fireplace wall that looked wallpapered in a dark blue-gray tweed (the fireplace painted black). Inset shelves on either side that told me he read and traveled (the last, I knew, the first I wasn’t surprised about). And the modern lighting fixture over the ottoman/table that had dangling globes of gold, milky or smoked glass was a stunner.
His lounge was darker, dressed in deep hues of blue and gray. It had a fireplace too, over which was the TV.
The kitchen that had a view to the miniscule back garden shared he hadn’t lied during one of our daily conversations. He cooked.
It was bright and airy with white cupboards, black marble countertops, and a silvery-gray, small-square tile backsplash. In all of that monochrome, he kept some oranges in a black bowl on the windowsill above the corner sink. I expected, for a man, the placement wasn’t for aesthetics, but instead to keep it off the countertop, or maybe he was a man who cared about the aesthetics. Either way, it was the perfect pop of color for the room.
His dining room was sparsely furnished and modern, with comfortable chairs around the table, as dining rooms should be. If you were entertaining lots of people and bringing in food, you didn’t need to navigate furniture.
He had two guest bedrooms (the lounge was on the second floor).
And his bedroom took up the entire top floor.
It was fabulous. Masculine, without being too masculine. Stylish, without being overly styled and unwelcoming. Comfortable. And spacious.
He only had one parking spot, though. However, Edinburgh had been formed long before cars were an idea, so I knew he was lucky to even have that.
But his was a lovely home. Room to move. Room to have space to yourself. Rooms that were cozy so you could enjoy them together.
And we could both be cooking and not bump into each other.
The man liked his clothes, but there was still plenty of closet space.
I could spend time here.
