No. My gut didn’t think he was untruthful, and he also hadn’t cleaned out my savings and left me at the altar.
“Okay,” Hattie said after she explained the layout of the store and how they could deliver. “I’ll leave you two to talk about it.”
“Thanks.” After she went back to her desk, Van did a three-sixty like he was cataloging everything. Then he pinned me with that stunning gaze of his. “What do you like?’
“Me? You’re paying. Get what you want.”
“You have to live with it for three months.”
I held up my hands. “Nope. Your money; your furniture.”
“Clover.” When I stood firm, he shook his head. “Can you at least pick out the mattress you want?”
He had the money; I had the house. I was okay with that deal as long as I was offering something. I’d sleep on whatever he got, but if he insisted, I could pick out the cheapest one. My skin prickled as I walked toward the displays. Looking at beds with a guy was intimate. It was personal. At least we weren’t sleeping together. I sucked in a breath.
Spinning around, I smacked into his hard chest. Strong hands gripped my shoulders to steady me. This was the second time we touched, and I could just rest my head on his broad chest and hear his heartbeat. Only that would be weird.
“Sorry.” I took two steps back. “What are you going to do for a bed? Wait—all this is yours. What am I going to do for a bed?”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t buy two beds.” Two frames. Two box springs. Two mattresses.
His forehead crinkled. “We need two beds.”
“And what about the office?” I asked. “Don’t you do stuff with computers?”
He stiffened. “Yeah, I do stuff with them.”
Whoa. What did I do to earn that flinty tone? “Did I say something wrong?”
His shoulders fell. “No. It’s not you. Yes, I work from home.” He ran his thumb and index finger along his bottom lip. “I can work at the dinner table.”
“But I’m working from home too.”
Clarity dawned in his eyes. “Oh. We can’t both work at the table?”
“I have two screens. You?” When he nodded, I shook my head. The decision was clear. “You need the smaller room for an office. I can sleep on the couch.”
He gave me a droll look. “I’m not letting you sleep on the couch while I get the bed. I’ll take the couch.” He tried to hide a wince, but I caught it.
“Your snowboarding injury?”
“A lawn mower incident. I’ve been doing lawns the last few years and wrenched my back. It can get finicky. We can buy two twin beds. That’ll be all the bigger room will fit.”
Okay. So we’d share a bedroom. No problem. No problem at all. Like a sleepover with someone I barely knew for three months. “What about a bunk bed with a full-sized lower bed?”
His lips twitched. “Do I get top or bottom?”
I chuckled at the vision of either one of us scrambling to the top. “You’re taller.” We both eyed the bunk bed I described a row over. The supports would block any legroom for him. Would he be comfortable? Would I?
I’d offer to take the couch again, but he probably wouldn’t go for it. As touchy as he could be, he was chivalrous. So that left one other option. “We’re both adults. We can sleep together and not be weird about it.”
His brows notched up. “Sleep together?”
Did he have to sound so hollow? We’d be living together. This would just be living together closer. “Yeah. In the same bed. We can build a pillow wall or something.”
His jaw dropped, and he blinked. Then he lowered his gaze down to my athletic shoes and traveled back up in a way that left a trail of heat. I was in shorts and a T-shirt, but he made me feel like I was in a lacy negligee.
