Clay's eyebrows rose. "Dress it up?"
Dylan rolled her eyes. "Put a nice comforter and some throw pillows on it. Make it look more like a dream bed rather than a bachelor crash pad."
"I believe I'm offended," he replied.
Dylan laughed. "Really? What would you call a grey blanket, white sheets, and one king sized pillow?"
"Comfortable."
She shook her head. "Maybe it's a good thing you haven't started an Instagram account before now. I shudder to think what sort of pictures you would have been posting."
"Hey, if I wanted someone to insult my taste, I would have asked my sister to do this."
Dylan laughed and walked out of the bedroom. "It sounds like your sister would have done it without being asked. Why did you change your mind?"
"Maybe I was hoping you'd change your mind about sleeping with me."
Dylan just shook her head and kept walking until she got back to the living room.
Clay followed her and nearly bumped into her back when she stopped in the middle of the room.
"I could take some really nice pictures in here, focused on the coffee table you made. You'll just need to dust it first. And your dining room table."
"I'll tell you what. I'll order some food, dust the tables so you can take pictures while we wait, and then we can eat while you get everything set up."
"Why do I get the feeling you're up to no good?" she asked him.
"Because I usually am."
"Fine."
"What do you want to eat?" he asked.
"I'm not sure."
"Allergic to anything?"
She shook her head.
"I'll surprise you."
Dylan's eyes narrowed but she nodded.
She didn't say it aloud, but Clay had surprised her plenty already.
She'd expected nice furniture because he struck her as someone competent and who liked to do a job to the best of his ability.
What she hadn't expected was furniture that was on par with works of art. The lines, textures, and colors were all incredibly beautiful. Even the little rocking dragon looked as though it belonged in a gallery or art museum rather than in a child's room.
Though it shamed her to admit it, because of his huge build, rough hands, and the fact that he was a troll, she'd assumed he wouldn't be capable of such delicate work.
She knew better than to fall into those lines of thinking. How often did it irritate her when someone assumed that because she was a wood nymph that she would have a nice singing voice and a deep abiding love of nature? Granted, she did love nature, but she loved the trappings of modern society more.
Her singing voice, however, could destroy eardrums.
Dylan wondered what else she might learn about him if she had a chance.
ChapterNine
