I almost kissed her earlier, and now she’s in my house. Her fingertips coast across the granite of my kitchen island. “Your kitchen is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I swallow, liking the vision of her in my space.

“Did you do the work yourself?”

Before I can answer her, she stops me. “You did. I’m sure of it.”

“What makes you so sure?” I cock my head to the side in question.

She lifts her shoulder in a gentle shrug. There’s drywall dust in her hair and a sleepy expression on her face. “Are you sure you’re not gonna pass out in the tub?”

She gives me a sleepy smile. “I’ve done that before.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

She makes a pashaw sound. “Don’t worry. I’ve never drowned.”

“You’re not making me feel any better,” I laugh.

“You can talk to me through the door,” she offers. “If I go quiet you can yell at me and wake me up.”

I shake my head but know better than to argue her logic. “Right this way.”

“I like this room too,” she murmurs as we pass through my den. “Is it hard to put wood up on a wall like that?”

“Depends on where you want it.”

This question seems to confuse her. “It wouldn’t look good everywhere?”

I muffle a laugh with a cough. “How about you sleep on that?”

I lead her down the hall that splits off into the two bedrooms and hesitate at the doorway of mine. My bathroom is the nicer of the two and, if I need to talk to her through the door I’ll be more comfortable doing it from my bed.

“It’s through here,” I say, only slightly disappointed that I’m not showing her my bedroom for another reason.

“Is this your room?” She asks, pausing in the doorway.

“I’m not going to try anything funny,” I chuckle, and then explain, “The master bath is nicer than the spare.”

“I don’t need anything special,” she argues.

I disagree. “You haven’t seen the bath.”

That peaks her interest. She steps into the room and past me, pointing between the door to the bathroom and the master closet in a silent question.

I point to the door on the right and she moves, opening it. I stand back and wait. I don’t have to wait long before I hear her gasp.

“Wow!”

“Thanks,” I reply.

She spins to face me. “I’m going to take a quick shower first so when I take my bath I’m not soaking in drywall dust.”

“Here’s your bag. I’m going to shower in the other room,” I point with my thumb behind me. “I’ll knock on the bathroom door to let you know when I’m back in the room.”

“Thanks Noah. For everything.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“Try and stop me,” she replies, smiling as she closes the door.

The wall of the spare bathroom shares that of the master. While I shower, I try not to think of her wet and naked on the other side of it. My body has other ideas so I turn the water from hot to cold and stand under its stream until I’m able to control my response.

Showered and dressed in a pair of loose pajama pants and an old t-shirt I walk back into my bedroom. I’ve never stood in here and listened to another person shower.

I’ve brought women home before but if they showered the next morning, they didn’t do it alone. The water turns off and I knock on the door.

“Alright in there?” I ask.

“You have an amazing shower,” she calls out in response so I can hear her over the fan.

I grin at my door in agreement.

As I settle myself on my bed, I hear the water turn back on, this time to fill the bath. She surprises me by opening the door.

I sit up, my mouth falling open when she slowly walks into my room, wearing my robe.

“I hope this is okay.” Her voice is quiet, with a hint of shyness as she motions to it. “I thought it would be weird if I came out in a towel.”

My gaze starts at her bare feet and then travels up her shapely calves. My old terrycloth robe starts there. It covers her but does not hide her figure. I make a point to commit what she looks like, standing in the doorway of my bathroom in my robe, to memory.

“Watching a tub fill is like trying to watch a pot boil,” she explains.

Needing to get my mind off of her standing there in my robe, I ask, “You liked the shower?”

Great, now my mind is on her naked in my shower.

She nods. “You’re going to regret letting me use it. Now that I know how amazing it is I’m going to pester you to let me use it again, and help me put in one like it at my place.”

Settling myself back onto my pillows, I reply, “No pestering needed, and you can use it anytime.”

She smiles down at her feet before lifting her face to meet my eyes. “Do you really think we can do something like this at my house?”

“I put this one in. I don’t see why we couldn’t do it again at your place.”

“With the wood stuff on the walls?”

I press my lips together and nod. She turns, and steps back into the bathroom before coming right back out.

“I’m going to get in the tub now.” She gestures with her thumbs over her left shoulder.

“Turn off the fan so you don’t have to shout,” I say as she steps back into the bathroom.

She sticks a hand out, giving me a thumbs up before closing the door and I laugh. I’ve laughed more in the past few weeks with Finley than I have with any other girl. She’s funny, beautiful, and driven. I listen to the sound of water splashing, imagining her stepping into the tub.

“You still awake in there?” I call out.

“Yes,” she replies before yawning loudly.

“Don’t fall asleep,” I order.

“I don’t know what I like more, your shower or your tub.”

“I’m more of a shower guy.”

“Why’d you get the fancy tub?”

“Can’t have the tub not hold its own against the shower when it’s time for resale,” I explain.

“Are you thinking of selling?”

“Not right now, but I don’t think I’ll live here forever. It was the garage that sold me on it originally.”

I hear water splash before she asks. “Do you think I made a mistake not buying a house with a garage?”

Do I tell her I’d never buy a place without a garage, no. “You’ll want one when winter comes.”

“No, I plan to hibernate in the winter,” she argues.

I choke back a laugh. “Hibernate? Like a bear?”

“Sure, you have those up here don’t you?” She jokes.

Not touching her bear comment, I ask, “What are you going to do for food?”

“Oh, I’m sure I could pay a delivery service to do it for me.”

“What about winter sports? You don’t want to go skiing or ice skating?”

She answers my question with one of her own. “Do you have ponds you can skate on out here?”

“Sure. But, most people still go to rinks.”

“When I was little I took skating lessons.”

“Oh yeah?” I can’t help but picture her in one of those sexy skating get ups. “I played hockey.”

“You did? Isn’t that sport pretty rough?”

“It could be, but we wore pads.”

“I’m turning into a prune and I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open. I’m getting out now.”

I listen to the water splash, as she must be stepping from the tub. After a couple of minutes, she comes out wearing flowery shorts and a blue tank. Shifting off my bed, I take her duffle from her.

I cringe when I open the door to the spare room. I forgot about some boxes I had moved in here. Dropping her bag by the door, I grab them off of the bed and shove them into the closet.

“Sorry about that.”

She looks around then tilts her head to the side. “You do remember what my house looks like right now?”

I reach up to scratch the back of my head, not wanting to admit I was hoping to impress her.

“If you need anything. Let me know.”

“Thank you.”

Before I can tell her to stop thanking me, she presses her fingers to my mouth, silencing me. “Let me thank you. Please.”

I nod, her fingers moving with my head.

Pulling her hand back she gives me a sweet smile. “Good night Noah.”

“Good night Finley.”

I close her door behind me but leave my door open in case she needs something during the night. With her across the hall, I expect it to be hard to fall asleep, not taking into account how worn out I am.

* * *

Sniffing, I turn my face into my pillow and groan. Most mornings I have no problem waking up. Recently, with the late nights and hard work I’ve been putting in at Finley’s house, mornings have been rough. Sniffing again, my eyes pop open when I smell coffee. That’s when my sleep fog lifts and I remember Finley spent the night.

Climbing out of bed I let my nose lead me to her. Her back is to me as I approach.

She not only made coffee, but she’s cooking something on the stovetop. “Morning.”

With a surprised yelp, she turns, spatula in hand. “You startled me.”

I show her my palms. “Sorry about that. It smelled so good I had to come and investigate.”

She steps to the side, giving me space to come stand beside her. “I hope you like it.”

Mentally cataloging the contents of my fridge I ask, “What is it?”

“I’m calling it a loaded egg scramble,” she replies. “There’s a little bit of everything in here.”

“I didn’t have much,” I counter.

She turns her face to smile up at me. “Don’t forget, I’m an awesome cook so I worked with what I could find.”

Impressed, I nod. “Looks good, whatever it is.”

I move to pour myself a cup of coffee, pausing to look at hers. “Want more coffee?”

“Yes, please,” she replies, pushing the food around with her spatula.

I refill her cup and watch as she slides the egg mixture from the pan onto two plates. I take both our cups and carry them to the other side of my kitchen island where I have stools. She follows me with the plates.

“How’d you sleep?” I ask after we’re settled.

Her eyes take on a dreamy look. “Better than I’ve slept in ages.”

She’s alone in that. I tossed and turned most of the night thinking about her sleeping in my spare room. The mattress she slept on was mine before I upgraded to a king. “Not too sore?” I press.

She shakes her head. “Between my hot soak last night and the mattress in your spare room, I feel great.”

She looked great too.

“Man. This is delicious,” I say after taking a bite of her concoction.

“I’m so happy you like it.” She takes her own bite and says, ‘It does taste pretty good.”

“Best breakfast I’ve had in ages.”

She smiles at me. “Get used to it.”

I blink. What does she mean by that?

I pat my stomach, deciding not to ruin the mood by asking. “Sounds good to me.”

When we’re both finished she takes our plates and starts to clean them. “Just leave them in the sink. My cleaning lady comes today. She’ll take care of them.”

“You have a cleaning lady?”

I shrug. “I like things neat. My parents use the same woman; her name is Lisa. She’s got a deadbeat for an ex and kids to take care of.”

“That’s nice of you.” She hesitates by the sink before leaving the plates like I asked.

“What time do you have to start work today?”

Her gaze moves to the clock display on my microwave. “In an hour.” She pauses before asking, “Will you have enough time to drop me off before your first appointment?”

I nod. “I’m going to go get ready. You want to take another shower?”

She shakes her head. “All I have to do is change and brush my teeth.”

“Wanna race?” I joke.

She blinks and then grins. I take off first. In fairness I should have done a countdown or said go first. That doesn’t stop her from grabbing onto the back of my shirt to try and slow me down. We’re both out of breath and laughing by the time we reach the end of the hallway.

Quickly stripping, I pull on the first pair of jeans I can find and a polo shirt with our logo on it. Next I pull on a pair of thick wool socks and my work boots. My dentist would lecture me over the amount of time I brushed, so I swish around some mouthwash for good measure. Lastly, I use water from my sink to wet my hair and finger comb. There’s no way she’s beating me. I congratulate myself before walking out of my room only to find her waiting for me in my den.

She smirks. “What took you so long?”

“How did you beat me?” I ask, dumbfounded.

Her eyes move over my face before settling on my forehead. “Did you do your hair?”

Self-consciously I scratch the back of my head. “All I did was wet it.”

She laughs, covering her mouth to muffle it.

“Shut it,” I grumble, grinning at her.

She stands, rolling her eyes when I take her bag.

With a full stomach and Fin beside me, I catch myself smiling for no reason more than once on the ride to her house. I could get used to this.

“See you later,” I call out my window.

She waves before letting herself in. I stay parked, staring at her front door for a few seconds after it closes behind her.

Then I get my ass in gear since my first appointment is thirty minutes from here, depending on traffic. My schedule for the day is packed, one appointment after another.

Jon meets me at my last appointment for the day since it’s for a couple that lives on his street. In theory he could have done this without me. Problem is, people who know us try to use knowing us to get discounts.

If this couple were close friends with either Jon or Emily, maybe we’d cut them a deal. Thing is, this is a business. The materials we use cost money, the equipment we own needs maintenance, and the guys who work for us expect to get paid.

What I’m doing for Finley is on my own time. The material we’ve used she’s paid for. Casual friends don’t get that.

My presence, since they don’t know me, should keep them from trying to ask for freebies. Jon and I have been doing this long enough to know how to avoid shit like that. What I wasn’t expecting was how chatty Jon’s neighbors would be. Our meeting goes a full hour longer than it should have.

It would have been rude to step away and text Finley. Because of that, I wait to check my phone until we’re finished and I’m in my truck.

There’s a text from her asking if I’m okay, and it was sent thirty minutes ago. It unnerves me that I worried her. Instead of texting her, I call her.

“Hey Noah,” she answers.

“I’m sorry I’m running late. My last appointment went longer than I thought it would.”

“Did they hire you?”

I grin, liking that she was interested. “They did. Contracts signed.”

“Congratulations!” she shouts.

It’s funny how excited she sounds for something that happens daily.

“How was your day?”

“Are you still coming over? I can tell you when you get here,” she replies.

Since I am definitely coming over, I agree and offer to pick up dinner on the way over.

When I pull up, she surprises me by walking out to meet me.

“I think your bathroom has magical healing properties,” she greets. “I didn’t need to use my hot pad once today.”

I laugh, passing her the food bags. “Can I quote you for bathroom remodel advertising?”

She follows me to the back of my trailer and watches as I unload the supplies we’ll need to mud and tape what we put up yesterday.

“So, tell me all about your day,” I say following her inside.

“Ugh,” she groans. “The company I work for changed the system that we use to close out claims. It was supposed to make everything easier only it isn’t working right so everything I worked on today took twice as long as it should have.”

“That blows.”

She nods. “It made today drag on.”

“Are they going to fix it?”

“They’re working on it but, off topic, I video chatted with my parents today so I could show them all the progress around here.”

“That’s great.”

She smiles, her eyes sparkling with it. “They were so worried when I decided to buy this house. Seeing their faces when they saw everything we’ve done was really cool.” She gulps then adds. “Thank you for that.”

I shrug, not bothering to tell her to stop thanking me. “Did you tell them about your new dream bathroom plans?”

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. “No offense, but no way I’m telling them I spent the night at your house. They’d assume things.”

“Oh, right. I didn’t think about that.”

“They’re pretty conservative and with not even being divorced for a year, it wouldn’t go over well. Also, I’d hate for them to think badly of you.”

I lift my hands. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve only met Abby but once you experience the full Thompson clan you’ll get that I understand.”

Her posture relaxes. “Your family sounds fun.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

My family is a curious bunch. It’s just a matter of time before they’ll force a meeting. I only hope they don’t scare her off.