“It smells like wood and…” she pauses, inhaling. “Something warm.”
I smirk.
“Probably me.”
She glances back, rolling her eyes.
“Cocky.”
“Honest.”
She laughs, and that sound—yeah.
I could get used to that.
“Kitchen’s through there,” I say, gesturing. “Living room—still working on that. Main bedroom is upstairs. There are three more and a home office.”
Her gaze flicks toward the staircase.
Then back to me.
And the air?
It shifts again.
Heavier.
Charged.
I step closer without thinking.
Or maybe I am thinking.
Just not with the part of me that plays it safe.
“Are you nervous?” I ask quietly.
She swallows.
“Should I be?”
“Badass she-Bear like you? Hell no.”
I shake my head, reaching up slowly, giving her time to pull away.
She doesn’t.
My fingers brush a loose strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
“You don’t have to be anything you’re not,” I tell her. “Not with me.”
Her eyes search mine.
Like she’s looking for something.
Truth.
Intent.
