"This is the kitchen," he said. "It's...a kitchen."
Dylan didn't respond. It wasn't just a kitchen. It was warm and bright, with white walls and wooden cabinets that glowed like honey under the lights. As she expected, there wasn’t a lot of clutter on the counter tops. She ran a hand over the white counter. Dylan was almost certain it was quartz. The window above the sink had a deep sill, perfect for several small pots of herbs. She would never have called this “just a kitchen.” It was perfect.
Clay didn't seem to notice her lust for his kitchen because he just kept moving through the house.
"The dining room."
She bit back a smile at the layer of dust on his dining room table. Maybe he wasn't a neat freak after all.
"The living room."
As she expected, the furniture was huge, like him, but looked comfortable. Before he could keep moving, she grabbed his elbow. At this rate, she’d never have a chance to get a good look at anything.
"Did you build the coffee table?"
"Yeah," he grunted. "And the dining room table, my desk, and my bed."
"Well, the tables are gorgeous," she said.
"Thanks." He didn’t expound but turned down a short hall. "This is my office," he said, gesturing toward the room to his right.
She glanced inside and her eyes widened. He wasn't lying about having his own messy tendencies. Her house might be cluttered, but her desk was meticulously organized. His looked like a mountain of paperwork.
"Wow," she murmured.
"I know. I told you I wasn't all that tidy."
"Well, I believe you now."
He chuckled. "Wanna see my bed now that you know I'm not perfect?"
"I knew that before, but I would like to see your bed. Even though I don't plan on climbing in it today."
"Ouch. Way to destroy my dreams."
She was still grinning until he led her to the room at the end of the hall. His bedroom door was standing open and Dylan could see the bed he'd mentioned. Her mouth fell open.
"Wow," she whispered. This time there was no undertone of sarcasm. It was sheer awe. "That's one big bed."
"It's a Texas King," Clay said.
"What's that mean?"
"It's eight feet long and almost seven feet wide. I can lay sideways across it and not hang off."
She glanced up at him. "I guess I could see why you need a bed that big. You're what? Six-four, Six-five?"
He nodded. "About that."
Dylan walked a little closer and ran a hand over the footboard. The wood was as smooth and polished as glass, and just as cool beneath her fingertips.
What truly struck her was the graceful lines of the headboard, footboard, and canopy frame. True, the entire bed was large, but somehow it didn't seem bulky.
"How long did it take you to make this?" she asked as she walked around the massive frame.
"A few weeks," he answered.
"I think I should take some pictures of this for your social media, too. But we'll have to dress it up a little."
