“I wish I had time for more leisurely reading too.”
“Be right back,” I call, heading to the car for the kitten supplies. I carry them inside, glancing around like a man who’s utterly clueless where anything belongs. I drop the items near the door, deciding the logistics are up to the boys. It’s their cat, not mine.
No snuggles.
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to the company.
“How long have you lived here?” Maria calls out from the library, voice echoing slightly.
“Six years,” I answer.
“You don’t have a single picture on the walls,” she says, a note of curiosity threading through her voice.
I shrug, smiling faintly. “Never felt the need.”
“What about pictures of you and your sister?”
“She sent me a bunch of photos when I moved away. I’m sure she thought I’d get them framed but I’m too ugly to be showcased on a wall,” I joke and I’m instantly rewarded with a big laugh.
“True,” she agrees playfully and when her laugh dies, she eyes me. “Those probably aren’t even your real teeth. You pop them out for pictures?”
“Of course. Ugly. When I commit to something, I really commit.”
She swallows, like my words have shifted, become less about my smile and more about me not wanting a future with her. That’s not really the case, but I’m not bringing up the future, and the reason I can’t give her more.
“Well,” she finally says. “I think these walls could use some memories. A house only becomes a home once the walls are adorned with pictures.”
“How about I get a picture of Marbles framed.” I jerk my head to the side. “Want me to show you around?”
She nods and hurries toward me. I step aside, but our bodies brush. A quick, sharp inhale escapes both of us. Goddammit, this tension is going to be the end of me. I lead her around the main level, showing her the living spaces, and her eyes go wide when she spots the kitchen.
“I can’t wait to cook in this kitchen,” she says, her voice full of excitement.
“Me too,” I joke, trying to hide how nice it feels to see her light up. “Want to see downstairs?” Yes, it’s true. I might be putting off showing her the bedrooms, because I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have her in a bed beneath me.
“Absolutely.”
We head down, and I give her a tour of the games room: a big screen TV, pinball machine, pool table, a small bar, along with numerous comfy chairs and a sofa. She shakes her head and lets out a sigh, like the space is over the top, and I guess it is.
“You don’t like my man cave?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
Her gaze sweeps the room. “It’s not that.”
I walk over to the bar, open it, and check what I’ve got inside. “Glass of wine?”
“I’d love one, actually,” she replies. “It’s been a crazy day.”
I pull out a bottle of white, hold it up, and she nods. I open it, pour her a glass, then grab a beer for myself, cracking it with a satisfying hiss. She takes a sip and sets it on the coffee table.
“What is it then?” I ask.
She chuckles, the sound soft and musical. “The problem is, once the boys see this, you’re never going to get rid of them.”
I laugh. “When they’re here taking care of Marbles, they’re free to use this space.”
She picks up a pool cue, running her fingers along it as she eyes the balls set up on the table.
“You play?” I take a swig of my beer, as she eyes the table.
