The room was much bigger than expected.Freshly painted, it came with built-in cupboards and a wonderful view of the stables.It was like paradise, with a large queen-size bed that seemed new.‘Who else used this room?’Amara asked.
‘Just my parents when they visited.’Porter’s voice carried from the back.
‘How often is that?’
‘Whenever they can get away.’Porter carted two boxes on his heavy-duty hand trolley and lined them up in the hallway.‘Are you sure you want all these boxes crowding your room?’
‘Umm…’ She shrugged.She didn’t even want this housemate situation, but she’d bought a horse.She wasn’t going to buy it, but with Craig on one side and Finn on the other, it was like a devil on either shoulder, both telling her to do it.
So she did.
Now her whole world was turned upside down, and she needed to get the chaos back into order.‘No, I don’t need the boxes in my room, but I’d like to sort through them.’
‘I can put them on the back verandah for you to unpack when ready.’He pointed to the one labelled kitchen.‘You cook?’
‘When I can.’It’d been a while, living in the pub.‘You?’
‘Yeah.And look, I have my own system for meals.So I’m not expecting us to cook for each other, especially when I do shiftwork.But I’ll clean out a cupboard, and a few shelves in the pantry and some fridge space for you to do your own meals.’
Ooh, didn’t that pique her interest in what sort of meals he cooked.‘Let me guess, your main dish is beef slapped onto the barbecue to sandwich between bread and dead horse.The stockman’s staple.’
He tossed one of those grins over his shoulder, with that glimmer in his eyes.It was an attractive look on the guy.It matched his confident, strong stride as he steered the trolley loaded with boxes down the corridor.
The house was simple—an open-plan lounge and kitchen in one, bigger than she expected, and surprisingly… fresh.
There was no peeling paint.No motorbike in the lounge.Not even a crusty boot print on the tiles.
How is this the same man with the shed full of chaos, who lived in a house that may just pass a rental inspection?
It had a modern feel she hadn’t anticipated.And it was neat, too.Besides a few fishing reels stacked on the table like decorations, that was it.No dishes rested in the sink.No half-eaten sandwich was left on the bench.There wasn’t even a dirty coffee mug in sight.
She wasn’t sure whether to be impressed… or suspicious.
Did he clean up because she was moving in?Or maybe he lived like this.Which, somehow, felt weirder when the guy usually wore a uniform that looked like he’d just picked it up off the floor.
He opened a door behind the kitchen and flicked on a light.‘This is the pantry, or as Luke calls itthebutler’s pantry.You’d know all about that stuff, eh, Montrose?’
She frowned at his teasing smirk, turning to face the large windows that gave a stunning view of the surrounding land, and the privacy that came with it.How she’d missed that while living in the pub.‘Are you a farmer?’
‘Nope.I’m a cop.Remember?’
‘Yet you have all this land?’
‘Came with the house.’He shrugged.‘I’m a city boy.’
‘Who bought a country house?’
‘This place was a bargain.’
Outside, Porter effortlessly hoisted the boxes against the wall, sleeves pushed up, forearms flexing like it was nothing.
His muscles were… bigger than she’d expected.And so well-defined.
She’d never seen him out of uniform before—never had reason to.But now, in a faded T-shirt that clung in all the right places, Porter didn’t look like some dusty outback cop.
Without the badge, the belt, the official posture—he looked… different.
Solid.Capable.And far too easy on the eye.
