“Yeah.” She walked over to the fridge. “I mean, take this. It looks like an ordinary fridge, right?”
The stainless steel fridge appeared to be just like the one in his ultramodern apartment. The apartment that seemed cold and boring compared to this charming home near the river. “That’s a regular-looking fridge,” he agreed, knowing it probably was anything but.
She tapped somewhere in the middle of the door and a panel rose.
Roscoe sat, his tail wagging on the wooden floor.
“Very cool,” Scott said.
“Oh, you have no idea.” She pressed a couple of buttons and blue letters came into view. “My fridge tracks inventory and expiration dates. Not only that, it’ll suggest recipes based on what’s inside.” She looked over her shoulder at him and laughed, the sound musical. “My aunt thought it was crazy for a while. She’ll never admit it, but she uses the recipe tracker all the time.”
“How do you know?” he asked, enchanted.
She snorted. “I also might have installed a tracking device. So anytime she uses one of the recipes, I get a notice on my phone.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “That’s terrible.”
“I know,” she said, covering her mouth, mirth in her eyes.
She was even more likable than he’d thought.
Roscoe nudged her again, nearly knocking her over.
She opened the door and drew out sliced roast beef to give him a bite. He gingerly took the meat from her hand and stomped over to drop it onto Scott’s boot, where he sat and began to eat.
Scott didn’t bother moving his foot. The dog would just follow him, and Roscoe could outmatch anybody with stubbornness. Plus, it was nice having the animal close, which the dog seemed to somehow realize. “What else have you updated around here?”
“I tweaked the cooktop with a built-in thermometer and timer, and that back burner is the one that, for some reason, ensures the most even heat distribution.” She sobered. “In addition, my aunt is getting older, so I have some safeguards in place. This place will never burn down.”
Brilliant, sweet, and the woman wore cowboy boots like a pro. Oddly enough, he’d always had a thing for women in cowboy boots. Make them brilliant and more than a little quirky, and he became enthralled. Unfortunately, he felt so screwed up that he’d be an ass to make a move. It was a good thing she’d turned down his offer of dinner months ago. The woman had excellent instincts. “I like that,” he said softly.
A pretty pink blush wandered over her cheeks. “I also voice-activated everything from the coffee maker to the dishwasher, which my aunt actually does enjoy,” she said. She grabbed his good hand, sending a jolt of electricity up his arm. “Come on. Since I’m revealing at least some of my secrets, let’s get you settled in before we bake a pizza.”
She tugged him up the stairs, and they turned left at the landing to the guest bedroom. It was quaint with a hand-quilted white-and-blue coverlet on the bed, flanked by antique oak tables that matched the dresser across the room. The place somehow smelled like violets.
“What do we have?” he asked, truly curious as Roscoe pushed past him, looked around, and jumped onto the bed.
“The bed first,” she said.
Scott would not look at the bed, because the last thing he needed right now was to imagine her on it. She didn’t need him to add to her stress. “What about the bed?”
She grinned, appearing younger than her twenty-nine years. “It’s a smart bed with adjustable firmness settings and temperature regulations.” She reached into a drawer and brought out what looked like a small microphone. “Millie Frost, 278345,” she said.
“Affirmative, Millie Frost,” came an automated voice.
“Here,” she said, pointing the microphone at him. “Say your name.”
He complied.
“Hello, Scott Terentson,” the voice said, sounding a little sexy.
“There you go,” Millie said, nearly hopping up and down. “Now you can direct the bed. You can make it as hard or soft, warm or cold as you want. In addition, you can set an alarm so it will gradually wake you up with a slight vibration. There’s no loud, blaring sound.” She was adorable.
All he could do was nod. “I think I love this bed.”
Roscoe spread out, nose on his paws, and closed his eyes.
“I know, right?” she asked. “I tried to get Wolfe to let me install one for him, but he figured it’d be possessed or something.”
