They went into the kitchen, and he flipped the light on, which wasn’t really necessary because of all the natural light already filling the space.
The kitchen continued the heavy presence of wood in the house with beautiful caramel-colored cabinets topped with polished tan-and-black granite. The wrought-iron handles and pulls on the cabinets pulled the whole thing together.
It was a man’s kitchen for sure, but she liked it. More interesting than her plain white with brushed-nickel hardware.
She especially liked that his fridge was covered with kids’ drawings and school pictures. It was unexpected and disturbingly heartwarming. He was clearly a proud uncle, and there was something undeniably sweet about that. Which sucked in a way. She didn’t want to like this guy. Not more than a usual level of like.
But she had to give him props for the space he lived in. “This kitchen is beautiful. Like something out of a magazine. Your whole house is, really.”
“Thanks.” He put the beer and groceries on the long center island that divided the cooking area from the dining room across from it. “There’s room for some of your beer in the refrigerator, but I usually keep drinks in the garage fridge.”
“I can put them out there, no problem. So did you decorate the house yourself?”
He tilted his head back and forth as he started putting her groceries in his fridge. “My sister, Bridget, helped. So did my mom a little. But I had final say on everything. That was our deal.”
“Well, the three of you did a fantastic job.”
He nodded. “My mom and Bridget are really good at that kind of stuff. Bridget designed Howler’s, you know.”
“I didn’t know that. I love that place.”
“I know. I see you in there sometimes.”
“Mostly on Thursdays every couple of weeks.” That was usually the night she hung out with the other deputies after work. “I see you too. But I guess you go there a lot since your sister owns it.”
He laughed, but there was a self-deprecating undertone. “Every night, pretty much.”
Her brows went up. “Really?”
He laughed again, harder this time and without any edge. “Don’t worry, we can stay in. I realize eating out every night isn’t normal.”
“Hey, it’s normal for you, so that’s cool. I just don’t have the budget to eat out every night.”
“Bridget doesn’t charge me.”
“Because you’re her brother. I’m not family. I wouldn’t expect or want her to feed me for free.”
“Right, good point.” He put the last of her supplies into the fridge.
She folded the reusable grocery bag now that it was empty. “I suppose that means you’re not much on cooking, then.”
“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent cook.”
“And yet you eat out every night?” She tilted her head in disbelief.
He shrugged. “I cook a lot at the firehouse. And it’s hard to go from cooking for a crowd to cooking for one. Plus, it’s easier to eat at Howler’s.”
“That makes sense, I guess.” She hoisted the crate of beer. “Which way to the garage?”
He started forward. “I’ll get the door.”
His gentlemanly tendencies weren’t helping her not like him. “I can get it. Really. Just point me. If I’m going to be here until this spell is removed, and we’re trying not to let it get the best of us, you might as well just treat me like one of the guys.”
He took one more step forward, which put him in her personal space. “What’s wrong with treating you like the woman you are? I don’t want to treat you like one of the guys. Because you aren’t.”
“I…” He was so close words failed her. She could smell that fresh forest scent again. She shook her head, finding her voice. “You’re letting the spell get to you.”
“No, I’m being the man my mother raised me to be.” He took the crate out of her hands. “Come on, I’ll show you to the garage.”
He walked ahead, leaving her no choice but to follow. And to admire his mother for the fine job she’d done.
Jenna might have also admired the way his track pants fit his lean lower half, but she’d never admit to that in a court of law. She could do only so much to prevent the spell from working on her. As long as she could keep the effects to herself, she’d be fine.
She hoped. And said a little prayer to Freya that it would be so.
Halfway down the hall, he opened a door but paused, turning to nod at a door across the hall. “That’s the powder room. Guest room is the next door down, and it has its own bath.”
“That’s nice.”
He nodded. “Pandora suggested it when I built the house.”
“You built this house?”
He laughed. “No, I mean when I had the house built.”
Inwardly, she sighed with relief. She had a soft spot for men who were handy like that. Finding out he’d built this place might have given her weak knees, as odd as that might be. “Oh, right.”
“Anyway, this is the garage.” He pushed the door wider with his hip and went down the steps.
She was right behind him when he flipped on the switch, and she understood why they couldn’t park in the garage.
He was using it as a woodworking shop.
The smell of lumber filled the space with a rich aroma. She blinked twice. “This is all yours? I mean, you’re making all this stuff?”
He nodded. “The rocking chair is for Aunt Birdie’s birthday. The rocking horse is for Hannah Rose.”
Oh, this was as bad as thinking he’d built the house. Maybe worse. He was handy. Not just ordinary handy, but the kind who made beautiful things. Useful things. She walked toward a small, gorgeous stand. She wasn’t sure what it would hold, a vase maybe? But the color and shine of the wood, combined with the scrolling pattern carved into it, made it hard to ignore.
