By the time I’ve mulled over Garrett’s minimalistic dialogue, we’re at the top of the stairs and he’s pushing open the door. Stepping inside, he holds it wide and mimics my arm sweep with a slight curl to his lips that can only be called a smirk.
Smiling in return, I’m not paying attention to anything but him as I step through the doorway into his home. But when my focus leaves him, I’m unable to hold in my gasp.
“Holy shit.” My gaze bounces from one thing to another.
There’s a huge screen on the wall to my left, in front of it is the most comfortable looking U-shaped couch I’ve ever seen. To my right is a large island with a kitchen on the other side. I don’t know what I expected but like his workshop, this isn’t it.
Moving deeper into the room, I take it all in with astonishment. The place is spotless, and organized, and nothing like the bachelor pad of a guy in his twenties I expect. Which makes me think he has a woman in his life. Or had because there isn’t any sign of one now.
Olivia hasn’t told me much about either of Carter’s brothers other than he has them, they’re younger, and they own Boyd’s together. I don’t even know how old Garrett is. Only that he’s the youngest of the three Boyd men.
“Want a drink?”
I turn to face Garrett. He’s been quiet while I studied his home and I can’t tell if I’ve offended him by doing that or if the slight scowl on his face is because he’s offered me a drink. “A glass of water, please.”
He tips his head in acknowledgment and heads for the kitchen where he pulls a glass from a cupboard and puts it under a tap at the side of the sink. Moving closer so he doesn’t have to bring my drink to me, I see the tap he’s used is not a simple one. There are two buttons, one red, one blue, and I realize it’s a hot and cold water dispenser like the one we have at the office.
“Fancy,” I say as I reach across the island for my glass.
With a shrug, he says, “We have one in the kitchen at the bar. I liked it. Wanted one here.”
It’s a simple explanation, and honestly, I can’t expect anything more, not with our interactions so far. “No need for a kettle.”
“No. Or a fancy coffee machine.”
“You don’t like coffee?”
“I like it. Without all the stuff in it.”
“Not a coffee snob then.”
“No. Hot. Black. The way it’s meant to be.”
“I suppose you like your liquor straight too. No mixers for you.”
“Only drink beer.”
“And eat pizza.”
His nose scrunches as he pulls a face.
“Not a fan of pizza?” I ask in astonishment.
“No. I don’t like bread.”
“Pizza isn’t bread.”
“It’s dough.”
My mind is spinning. “Do you like donuts?”
“No. Dough.”
“What about cake?”
“Cake isn’t dough.”
I shake my head and bring my glass to my lips to hide my smile. “You are a fascinating man, Garrett Boyd.”
