rack just inside the door. He was slim, muscular, with more of a geek-meets-gym look to him than body builder. But he obviously wasn’t the kind of man who liked to sit on his hands all day long and do nothing.
Bay had a subtle strength that seemed to linger around him. It was in the confident way he moved, the relaxed easy grace of a man who worked for a living. Eden wasn’t a fan of men too used to treadmills and dumbbells that they didn’t know how to work a damned saw. It wasn’t that she couldn’t change her own tires or put up a deck, but she liked partners in her life. Bay obviously didn’t shirk his work and he looked the part.
“Now who’s looking,” he teased, drawing a laugh from her.
“Mutual admiration. But I thought I was getting a hot drink?” She tugged at the zipper on her coat, refusing to blush. Oh, no, no . Getting busted admiring him would hardly be enough to flip her guilt switch. She hung her coat up on top of his as he headed for the stove.
The kitchen smelled like coffee, and she could see the still half-full pot on the counter. It was small, with a round table in the middle. It reminded her a little of her own kitchen. Quaint, comfy, nothing special, but home. Smuggler collapsed on a small pillow in the corner, his head resting between his paws as he stared up Bay, his little tail swaying back and forth lazily.
Damn . She frowned. He’d made the little guy right at home here. Had he not expected the pup to have an owner? A wild dog wouldn’t have come anywhere near him, obviously he had to have guessed. Then again, she didn’t see any signs of Smug’s harness and the pup hadn’t been wearing a collar. “I put up posters all around town, notices at the vet and the shelter. I’m surprised you didn’t see them.”
Bay glanced at her, then the dog, before lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t really get out much. And well, I hadn’t gotten around to calling anywhere.”
Right. He’d been sick. But she couldn’t help but stare at the bed, see Smug’s happy-dog grin as he watched Bay. “I’m glad he found you.” She pulled out a chair and sank into it. “You made him right at home. I appreciate it.”
He shrugged again. “Couldn’t leave him out in the cold.”
Her heart thumped a little eagerly in her chest and she ignored the warmth that spread through her at that little statement. Instead, as she listened to him rustle around in the pantry, muttering something about knowing he had hot chocolate mix in there somewhere, she let her gaze drift over the table. The empty mug and a journal sitting in front of her. The handwriting was messy, scrawled haphazardly over the page as if he’d been in a rush to write everything down.
Eden flipped a page, not really reading, just passing the time, but her breath stopped as she saw the pencil sketch of herself. Damn, he had talent. It was like looking into a mirror, except the woman drawn on the page looked terrified. She leaned over the table, suddenly unable to keep herself from reading. He’d drawn her after all.
But before she could read more than a few words—something about a monster and hunger, nothing at all to do with her—the floor creaked and Eden jerked her head up to see Bay standing there, his eyes a little wide. She cringed. “Sorry.” She gestured to the picture. “You have talent, but I’m going to guess that’s not really me.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Thanks. I’m a bit of a writer. Those are just some character sketches. I hope you don’t mind.”
The words sounded stiff but she couldn’t help but grin. “Hell no. I’m flattered. Please tell me I’m bad ass and that I slay the monster.” She lifted her eyebrows, hoping to draw a laugh, but when nothing came out she leaned back in her seat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I’m nosy, it’s a flaw and—”
“It’s fine.” He smiled, though it still looked a little off. “I don’t normally share my
Bay had a subtle strength that seemed to linger around him. It was in the confident way he moved, the relaxed easy grace of a man who worked for a living. Eden wasn’t a fan of men too used to treadmills and dumbbells that they didn’t know how to work a damned saw. It wasn’t that she couldn’t change her own tires or put up a deck, but she liked partners in her life. Bay obviously didn’t shirk his work and he looked the part.
“Now who’s looking,” he teased, drawing a laugh from her.
“Mutual admiration. But I thought I was getting a hot drink?” She tugged at the zipper on her coat, refusing to blush. Oh, no, no . Getting busted admiring him would hardly be enough to flip her guilt switch. She hung her coat up on top of his as he headed for the stove.
The kitchen smelled like coffee, and she could see the still half-full pot on the counter. It was small, with a round table in the middle. It reminded her a little of her own kitchen. Quaint, comfy, nothing special, but home. Smuggler collapsed on a small pillow in the corner, his head resting between his paws as he stared up Bay, his little tail swaying back and forth lazily.
Damn . She frowned. He’d made the little guy right at home here. Had he not expected the pup to have an owner? A wild dog wouldn’t have come anywhere near him, obviously he had to have guessed. Then again, she didn’t see any signs of Smug’s harness and the pup hadn’t been wearing a collar. “I put up posters all around town, notices at the vet and the shelter. I’m surprised you didn’t see them.”
Bay glanced at her, then the dog, before lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t really get out much. And well, I hadn’t gotten around to calling anywhere.”
Right. He’d been sick. But she couldn’t help but stare at the bed, see Smug’s happy-dog grin as he watched Bay. “I’m glad he found you.” She pulled out a chair and sank into it. “You made him right at home. I appreciate it.”
He shrugged again. “Couldn’t leave him out in the cold.”
Her heart thumped a little eagerly in her chest and she ignored the warmth that spread through her at that little statement. Instead, as she listened to him rustle around in the pantry, muttering something about knowing he had hot chocolate mix in there somewhere, she let her gaze drift over the table. The empty mug and a journal sitting in front of her. The handwriting was messy, scrawled haphazardly over the page as if he’d been in a rush to write everything down.
Eden flipped a page, not really reading, just passing the time, but her breath stopped as she saw the pencil sketch of herself. Damn, he had talent. It was like looking into a mirror, except the woman drawn on the page looked terrified. She leaned over the table, suddenly unable to keep herself from reading. He’d drawn her after all.
But before she could read more than a few words—something about a monster and hunger, nothing at all to do with her—the floor creaked and Eden jerked her head up to see Bay standing there, his eyes a little wide. She cringed. “Sorry.” She gestured to the picture. “You have talent, but I’m going to guess that’s not really me.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Thanks. I’m a bit of a writer. Those are just some character sketches. I hope you don’t mind.”
The words sounded stiff but she couldn’t help but grin. “Hell no. I’m flattered. Please tell me I’m bad ass and that I slay the monster.” She lifted her eyebrows, hoping to draw a laugh, but when nothing came out she leaned back in her seat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I’m nosy, it’s a flaw and—”
“It’s fine.” He smiled, though it still looked a little off. “I don’t normally share my
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