She glances at me. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was just thinking that his room looks like it would judge me.”
I laugh as we move on.
Ace’s room is next, and the second I open the door, she lets out this quiet little sound that’s almost a laugh. Books stacked everywhere. Surfboard against the wall. A desk covered in notebooks and paper and enough half-finished projects to make the whole room feel like his brain spilled into it.
Her mouth twitches. “This feels exactly right.”
“Don’t tell him I agree.”
She steps a little farther in, looking around. “No, this is charming. In a mildly chaotic, probably-loses-his-keys-twice-a-week sort of way.”
“That’s generous.”
“You’re protective of him.”
I shrug like that didn’t land a little too close. “Anything for my pack.”
“Mmm.”
We keep strolling, and I open my door and step aside so she can scan it.
She leans around me, close enough that her shoulder nearly brushes my arm, and I catch that scent again that tempts me and makes me want to drag her inside and shut the door.
Jesus.
My room is simple. Dark walls, big bed, and not much out of the drawers or cupboard. Just what I use.
She tips her head. “You really hate clutter.”
“I hate useless things.”
“That sounds intense.” Her gaze moves over the room again. “It suits you.”
I don’t ask what that means. Mostly because I’m not sure I want the answer while she’s standing this close.
We keep going down the hall, and then she pauses at the last open doorway before I say anything. The reading room.
Shelves line the walls, a big chair by the window and a mahogany desk tucked under it. Plumeria tree just outside,white and yellow flowers bright against the glass. It’s the calmest room in the house by a mile, and Ace knows it. It’s why he claims it most of the time.
Adelaide remains in the doorway and just stares. “I love this room.”
“Most people do.”
She steps inside slowly, turning in a circle like she’s already rearranging her life to fit it. “I could sleep in here. Let’s make this my room.” She faces me with the most irresistible smile, a glint in her eye, and for a smidge of a second, I consider how I can squeeze a bed into the room for her.
I lean against the doorframe and watch her. “In the chair?”
She frowns and manages to appear even more adorable. “Don’t be difficult.”
“It’s one of my best traits.”
She smiles, softer this time, and runs her fingers along the spine of a book on one of the shelves.
“So who spends the most time here?” she asks.
