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He considered that. “That’s pretty much what happens.”

“Exactly. A house has to work for the person living in it. There’s no point designing a beautiful system that annoys you every day.”

“I remember.” He took two mugs from the cupboard. “You told me that when you came over before. You pay attention to how people really live.”

He had remembered it almost word for word.

“I do.”

He poured the coffee. “Does that mean your own house is perfect?”

“Absolutely not.”

“That sounded very definite.”

“Because I spend all day making decisions about other people’s houses. By the time I get home, I can stare at two paint samples for six months without choosing between them.”

Wes handed her a mug. Their fingers touched.

It was barely anything. A brief brush of skin against skin. Neither of them pulled away.

Kate looked up. Wes was watching her. The almost-kiss in the truck was suddenly very close again, along with the way he had looked at her that morning.

He stepped back first and picked up his own coffee.

Kate wrapped both hands around her mug and followed him to the table.

“So your house isn’t some sort of designer showcase?” he asked.

“Not even slightly. It’s comfortable. It’s ours.” Kate sat down opposite him. “Penny’s room changes more often than anything else because she has very strong opinions for someone who still needs help reaching the top shelf.”

“What are we decorating for at the moment?”

“Foxes.”

“Because of her fox?” Wes asked.

“She says he deserves to feel represented. Last month it was stars. Before that, everything had to be yellow, although not the wrong yellow. There are, according to Penny, several wrong yellows.”

“I can believe that.”

“The problem is she tells me exactly what she wants and then changes her mind halfway through. If she were a client, I’d charge her extra.”

Wes laughed, and Kate found herself laughing with him.

It was easy. That was what surprised her most. The attraction between them was impossible to miss. She was much too aware of him, and he seemed just as aware of her. But sitting in his kitchen did not feel like working toward a kiss or trying to decide whether either of them should make a move. It felt like spending time with someone she liked.

Wes took a drink of coffee. “Do you like where you live?”

The question was quiet enough that Kate knew he was not asking about paint colors. “Yes. I do.” She turned the mug slowly between her hands. “It’s not big, but it works for us. Penny has her preschool and her friends. There’s a library close enough that we walk there most Saturdays, and we know the woman in the bakery because Penny always wants the same thing.”

“What does she get?”

“Chocolate chip cookie. Every single time. She looks at everything in the case first, considers all her options, and then chooses the chocolate chip cookie she was always going to have.”

“Careful decision-making.”

“Exactly.” Kate smiled. “She likes knowing what comes next. I suppose I do too.”