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“Are you looking for dust?”
“What?” Her gaze follows mine to where her fingers are still sliding back and forth over the smooth timber shelf. “Oh! No!” She doesn’t stop. “It’s looks so hard but feels like silk.”
“And that makes you frown?”
“No. But…” Her gaze moves around my living space. “It’s not what I expected.”
I take in the room and try to imagine what she’s thinking. When I took over the house from my parents I removed some walls, made the lower level one big room. Made heating the space easier. I like what I’ve done with the house over the years but that doesn’t mean others will.
The thought of Brooke not liking it here has my stomach sinking. Swallowing through a tight throat, I move a step closer and wonder what would make her happier. “What did you expect?”
“Not this. It looks like a family home. Like any minute a bunch of kids are going to come charging down the stairs and ask what’s for dinner.”
“BBQ ribs.”
“Huh?” Her gaze finds mine. “What?”
“Dinner. I put ribs in the crockpot before I left this morning.”
Her laughter fills the room and my ears, and makes me smile in spite of her possible dislike of my home. “Of course you cook too.”
A frown tugs at my brow. “Is that a bad thing?”
Shaking her head, she walks over to the kitchen. “No. It’s definitely not bad, and judging by the smell, it’s damn good.”
I watch her skirt the island and make a beeline for the counter where dinner is quietly bubbling away and a thought hits me. “Do you like ribs?”
“Yes.” She lifts the lid and leans over, takes a deep breath. “God, it smells fantastic.”
“I just have to throw the veggies in the oven. Should be ready in an hour. Want me to show you your room so you can get settled before we eat?”
Replacing the lid, she turns and rests her butt against the counter. “You don’t want help?”
“No. I prepared everything last night. Just have to turn the oven on and put the tray in.”
She eyes me carefully, searching for something I have no hope of guessing, but she doesn’t make me guess for long. “You’re very domesticated.”
I shrug. “If I don’t cook, I don’t eat.”
Feeding myself is a simple task. I’ve never understood why a man who can cook is such a shock. Some of the best chefs in the world are men. Then again, I get that most people live an antiquated lifestyle where women do the bulk of the cooking.
“I enjoy it. Cooking.” I indicate the kitchen. “No point having a kitchen if I don’t use it.”
“Hmm…” Her gaze moves over the counters. “I suppose not.”
“Come on. Let me show you your options and you can decide which room you want.”
“I’m not fussy.” She pushes off the counter and moves toward me. “Whatever is easiest.”
“There’s the guest suite down here.” I point to the far side of the living space. “Then upstairs there’s four rooms. Each pair has a Jack and Jill bathroom.”
Her head tilts to the side, her eyes studying me again. “That’s a lot of rooms for one man.”
“I grew up here. Took it over from my parents when I turned eighteen.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize Felix’s grandparents were still alive.”
“They’re not.” I don’t mean to be so blunt and I can see my words have shocked her. It takes her a few seconds to speak.
