“Considerate, but unnecessary as dinner tonight is a one-off. I don’t know you.”
“That’s the only thing you’ve said so far that makes sense. But we can go back up your list and I can remind you I’m friends—serious, long-term—with Kev and Jenny. They’d warn you if I was a psychopath.”
She kept her eye on the view. “People don’t always know people close to them the way they think they do.”
There was a story, Xander thought. He could hear it murmuring under her words. Instead of pressing on that, he tried something else.
He leaned over and took her face in his hand. Her mouth with his. Strong and hot and edging onto the fierce.
He knew when a woman wanted—and she did. He knew it by the way her mouth responded, heard it in her throaty hum, felt it in the quick, sexy quiver.
Another woman? All this heat, the mesh of needs would lead them straight up and into that excellent new bed.
But she drew back. Still, she kept her eyes, that deep, fascinating green, on his.
“You make an excellent point,” she said. “And I can’t argue it, but . . .” She looked directly into his eyes. “Like I told the dog, that’s how it goes.”
“Tonight.”
For the moment he contented himself with the food, the view, the mysteries of the woman beside him. Somebody handed him a puzzle, he thought, he just had to solve it. He’d figure her out, sooner or later.
Ten
She went back to work. Since work ranked high on her list of reasons not to sleep with Xander, she had to make her own point.
When she went out to shoot in the morning, the dog tagged along. For a few days, if she headed into woods or along shorelines, she rigged the leash to her belt. They both disliked the solution intensely.
After those few days, she realized the dog wasn’t going anywhere and usually left him off the leash. He explored nearby, chased squirrels, barked at birds, sniffed at deer tracks—and scat—while she composed studies of wildflowers, trees, long channels of water in sunlight and in shadow.
And she ended up with an entire series of dog shots.
He snoozed by the fireplace—gas logs installed and fabulous for cool, gloomy days—while she worked at her computer. Now and again, he’d go down, hang with the crew or with Molly if she’d come to visit, but he always came back in, gave her a long look as if checking if she’d finished. If she hadn’t, he curled up again, usually with something in his mouth.
Sometimes the something was a stray work glove, and once it was a hammer.
Steady, focused work paid off. She received a satisfying check from the gallery in New York, and watched her PayPal account blossom.
People, it seemed, really liked pictures of dogs.
Jenny stopped by, as promised, and took the tour. When they got to the master suite, Jenny sighed.
“I don’t know which is more impressive, the view or the bed.”
“I like having the view from the bed.”
“It must be wonderful, waking up to that every morning. Xander said your uncles shipped the bed all the way across the country.”
“They did. And if I don’t find some pieces to go in here, they’ll start finding them, and shipping them.”
“Come shopping with me!” Bouncing on her toes, Jenny slapped her hands together. “Let’s go.”
“What? Now?”
“It’s my day off, kids in school. I’ve got . . .” She pulled out her phone to check the time. “Five hours before I have to pick up Maddy, then Ty. I know it’s a workday for you, but you have to have more furniture, and I know a couple of places—especially if you’re not afraid of refinishing or having something refinished—that should have pieces that will really suit that bed.”
“I really . . .” She thought of the income she’d just banked, turned the automatic refusal on its ear. “Should do that.”
“Yes! Maybe we can find your dishes.”
“I ordered them. Wait. I’ll show you.”
They both studied her computer screen as she brought them up. “They’re recycled glass, which appealed, and I went with some white serving pieces for the bump. I think—”
“They’re wonderful. Perfect. Oh, they’re going to look fabulous in that kitchen. And on the table once you get a table.”
“The table can wait awhile. Not planning any dinner parties. But I do need stools. Stools, and a dresser. It’d be nice to put my clothes in drawers rather than cardboard boxes.”
“Let’s go bag one.”
The dog came. Naomi had no intention of taking him, but he followed them out, hopped right in her car, then crawled into the back to sit, tongue hanging out in anticipation.
“He’s so sweet. A dog’s a good thing to have living out here alone, and a sweet dog’s a good thing anywhere. Kevin says he and Molly get along fine. What’s his name?”
“He doesn’t have one.”
“Oh, Naomi, you have to name him.”
“His owners could still—”
“How long since you brought him home?”
“We’re into week three.” Naomi sighed, rubbed the back of her neck. “He’s going in for neutering tomorrow. If you’re looking for a dog . . .”
“We have one, thanks. We are thinking of a puppy, a friend for Molly. And we want the kids to have the experience. Besides, Naomi. That’s your dog.”
Naomi looked in the rearview mirror, and the dog unquestionably smiled at her.
“He’s just living here for now.”
“Sure he is.”
Naomi narrowed her eyes, put on her sunglasses. “Which way?”
“Just head toward town, and I’ll guide you from there.”
She couldn’t think of the last time she’d shopped with a friend—or allowed herself a friend. For the most part she didn’t go shopping so much as go, hunt up what she needed, buy it, and take it home. Which baffled and disappointed her uncles.
Plus, she could hunt up and buy almost everything she needed online.
But since she was out and about, she’d stop by the hardware and buy the paint for Mason’s room—a warm mossy green—on the way back.
And she liked Jenny. She decided it was impossible not to like Jenny, who was cheerful and funny and didn’t ask probing questions.
She decided she really liked Jenny when her new friend directed her to a huge barn a few miles inland.
“I should’ve brought my camera.”
But she opened the compartment between the seats and took out a case.
“What’s that?”
“Lenses and filters for my camera phone.”
“Really? I didn’t know there were such things.”
“Works well in a pinch. And that barn—the texture of the wood, the true barn red with the white trim, that old apple tree, the light. It’s good.”
“Don’t you want to see what’s in the barn?”
“Absolutely. This won’t take long.”
She intended to leave the dog in the car. He had other ideas, so against her better judgment, Naomi pulled out the spare leash she’d stowed in the glove compartment.
“If you go, you wear this.”
He tried to stare her down. Failed.
“I’ll hold on to him while you take pictures.”
“Thanks. He hates the leash.”
“Wouldn’t you? It’s all right, sweetheart. We’ll think of it as you leading me.”
Perversely, the dog behaved perfectly for Jenny, walked happily beside her, sniffed his way to an appealing spot to lift his leg while Naomi composed shots, added lenses, adjusted filters.
She’d come back with her equipment, she promised herself. She’d love a gloomy day, that barn under gloomy skies.
She found more shots inside. The place went on forever, packed with everything under sun or gloom.
Glassware, tinware, collectibles, mirrors, chairs, desks.
In fact, she paused in front of one of the desks. She’d decided to go with new for a permanent desk—something that looked right with the bed, but had all the modern touches. Keyboard drawer, plugs, file drawers.
But.
It was nearly black from years—probably decades—of varnish, and the drawers stuck. It needed new hardware. It wasn’t at all what she’d decided on.
And it was perfect.