“Some kind of...?”
There went the IQ again. “Rules, Matt. Rules.”
“I’m not big on rules. You should know this about me.”
“G-ground rules.” She continued to stammer and sputter like the village idiot. “House rules.”
“Ah.” Matt winked. “You don’t want me to ruin your game.”
“My game? No, I mean I don’t want to ruin your game.”
He put up a hand. “Wait. Let me see if I understand you. You’re saying I can bring a woman over here if I want?”
“Sure.” Her hand traced the smooth edge of his dresser. “I don’t want you to neglect your...needs. Or anything.”
Oh God, was she blushing? Please let him say he won’t bring a woman over. She’d offered but she didn’t want him to accept. Was it too late to take it back?
He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s generous of you.”
“You’re helping me out in a big way.” Probably not in the way she’d prefer, but she didn’t want to be greedy. That would be wrong.
“And you’re helping me. You should have seen my landlord’s face when I told her I wouldn’t be renewing my lease.”
“Oh, good! Anyway, I don’t want you to feel like this isn’t your house, too. As long as you’re here, this is your house.”
“So kick off my shoes and stay awhile?”
She lifted a shoulder. “This is all I’m saying.”
“Sounds good. And, Sarah?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not going to be bringing any women over. But thanks for the offer.”
Offer? She hadn’t made an offer yet. Had she been handing out offers, she might have asked Matt if he’d consider door number two: Sarah Mcallister, thirty years old, single, no kids. Dark brown hair, green eyes. Five foot eight in stocking feet. Comes with her own toothbrush. Doesn’t steal the covers.
“So I guess if you want to see a woman, you’ll go over to her place.”
His eyes narrowed. “Did you bring waders for this fishing expedition?”
Busted. She had to remember she wasn’t dealing with the type of man-child she dated back home in Fort Collins. When she could get a date. Matt was nothing if not direct.
“Uh...”
“For the record, I’m not seeing anyone. How about you?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not seeing anyone, either.”
“That’s what I thought, but as long as we’re clearing the air...”
“Air cleared!” She waved her arms and moved into the kitchen.
He followed her. “I’m going to get started on those floors in the hallway first. Before one of us trips.” Already making himself at home, he reached for a glass from the cupboard.
“Sounds good, and I’ll help.”
“No worries. I’m going to need to rip up everything you did. Don’t take this the wrong way, but carpentry is not your strong suit.” He filled his glass with water from the sink.
She laughed like a loon. “I know.”
“So, I’m good.” He leaned back against the countertop and guzzled water.
She watched as his throat muscles moved and constricted, fascinated. He had a powerful neck, and she watched the way he gripped the glass in his big hand, like it was never getting away from him. She found the way he drank water to be incredibly sexy. Almost sensual. And also, she was probably going to need to visit a psychiatrist soon. She’d never found a man’s Adam’s apple particularly stimulating but there you go. She was a very sick woman.
She pulled her gaze away from his neck and forced herself to pick up a spoon and pretend she would do something with it. “But I feel like I should help.”
“Nah, this is why I’m here.” He set the empty glass in the sink and his shoulder bumped hers. “Let me earn my ten percent.”
“Fifteen percent, you mean.”
He grinned. “Thought I might slip that by you.”
She giggled like a schoolgirl, but then she remembered...underwear. Shit! She almost ran into Matt trying to race past him to the bathroom.
“What the hell?” He moved out of her way.
Of course today had to be underwear day. She had all her thongs and bras airing out in the bathroom she hadn’t had to share with anyone else for weeks. Naturally he was right behind her, probably wondering if she’d accidentally set his fifteen percent of the house on fire. She snatched red push-up bras and satiny black thongs off the towel bars as fast as her two hands could move, but it still wasn’t fast enough.
If the unsuccessful way he tried to contain his grin was any indication, he’d seen everything.
“Sorry.” She clutched her bras and panties in both hands. “I forgot. I’ve been living alone for a while.”
Matt shook his head slowly, his large body filling the doorway. “That’s...not a problem.”
“I’ll just put these in my bedroom.”
She couldn’t look at him as she rushed past him. They’d never even kissed and he’d already seen her panties.
An hour later, Matt had set himself up in the hallway and ripped up all of her handiwork. Sarah kept busy by keeping Shackles away from nails and other life-threatening injuries, letting him outside in the backyard and back in again about a hundred times per hour. She needed a dog door, but it was low on her list of priorities. For now, she was Shackles’s door woman.
“How long have you had him?” Matt asked.
She’d just let Shackles in again from the backyard and hadn’t heard Matt come up behind her. “It’s been over a month now. The adoptive family who brought him out with Paws and Pilots changed their mind. Guess their kid turned out to be allergic.”
“It was good of you to take him in.”
Matt had worked up a sweat and his white T-shirt stuck to him like a second skin. His handyman tool belt hung low on his hips.
“Emily has a way of being pretty persuasive.”
“Stone has shared that with me more than once.” Matt grinned and squatted down. Shackles came right up to him, sniffing. “I would have taken him except for my old landlord. No pets allowed.”
“He likes you.” Who wouldn’t? She imagined all pets and children would find him approachable. He looked so safe, so solid and...solid. She swallowed.
“I didn’t think you’d want to take him in since you’re moving.” He scratched between Shackles’s ears and her dog melted into Matt, rubbing against his leg.
“We have dogs in Colorado, too.”
“Right, of course you do.” He gave Shackles one last pat and then straightened to his full height. “And this lucky little guy gets to go back with you.”
It had to happen sooner or later and had been the plan all along. She had to go back to Colorado. Even though she’d enjoyed her freedom out here, with Mom safely back home where she’d learned she wouldn’t die if her daughter wasn’t a thirty-minute drive away. But Sarah was a freelance forensic artist with a nice regular gig in Fort Collins. She was supposed to get back to all that at some point. Back to her life, which, even if it was a little boring, was at least stable. Certain.
When