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A staircase is directly in front of me, and to the right is the kitchen. A large arched doorway separates the rooms.
“I love it,” I smile. I do. You can tell that it is lived in to the fullest. I felt like I could nap on the couch the minute I stepped in.
“We have an office beyond the living room. The kitchen is through there.” He waves. “There is a mud room beyond that and a porch that extends that side of the house. Feel free to look around. I’m going to shower.”
“I can snoop.” I narrow my eyes.
“You can,” he chuckles.
He squeezes my hand before letting go and takes the stairs two at a time. I don’t hide the fact that I stare at his ass until he disappears. I hear a door shut; then, I take a few hesitant steps. In my experience, a man didn’t invite snooping, but I will take him at his word.
I am insanely curious to see what kind of magazines they read. I bend over the coffee table and tilt my head, but don’t pick them up. Cars and more cars. The occasional girl in a bikini on the hood of one—typical. There are a couple of architectural ones. I leave the space and walk into the kitchen, the one room I am really interested in seeing.
The large table faces the front of the house under the large window. I run my hand down it on the way to the most oversized counter I have ever seen in person. It’s double in width, as I would expect it to be, and it runs the depth of the kitchen. The grey concrete glistens from the gloss that covers it. Everything is grey—the stove, the fridge, even the curtains that cover the window that shows the side porch.
I would love to cook in here. I open a door at the back and find a walk-in pantry bursting with food. Yes, I want to cook here.
I shut the door softly and move to lean at the sink, looking out the window. I can see myself here.
“What did you learn about us?” Logan asks.
I smile out the window—I heard him coming. “That you like to be comfortable.”
“That is true.” He holds out his hand when I turn to him.
“I want to cook in here,” I tell him, slipping my hand in his. I like how it feels in mine. It is a hand that works hard to make his life as easy as possible.
“I will not be showing you the bedrooms. There are four upstairs, and all of them have bathrooms.” He opens the door for me. “I don’t have enough willpower to be so close to four beds.” He pulls out the keys and locks the door.
“I wouldn’t mind,” I mutter when his back is turned.
“Did you already forget that we can hear everything?” he asks, smirking, joining me at the bottom of the stairs.
Crap. “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t get myself off in the shower.” I grin cheekily and walk to his truck.
He still gets there before me, holding the door open for me. “Bad girl,” he whispers at my back. He shuts the door quickly and jogs around to the driver's side.
The heat from his hand brushes my shoulder when he puts it on the back of the seat while he backs up. I stare at his profile. Fuck, he’s so handsome. He has tattoos on his arms, and I see the brightness of some under his white shirt. He’s not covered in them; he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that would get them just to have them.
“What?” he asks. I abandon my study of his arms to see his lips twitch.
“Why am I so comfortable with you?” I ask, genuinely puzzled. I think I’m a pretty good judge of character. I’ve been around my family who don’t hide their intentions, so it is clear to see.
“Why?” He shakes his head. “We have been honest with you. I think you value that.”
“True.” I don’t get much of that.
“Even though you aren’t a shifter, you feel the bond. It doesn’t push you like it does us, but you feel how right it is.”
“That’s true, too.” I turn in my seat towards him as much as I can. “We can be honest with each other, right?”
I don’t miss the slight hesitation. “We can. But there are things that I may not be ready to reveal, things I’ve been through,” he says.
“I understand that. Let’s make a deal that we will always be honest about our feelings, at least for now,” I urge.
“Alright. Deal.”
“I do feel comfortable with all of you. I feel a pull that may not be natural to humans. I can’t explain why I’m not freaked out that you are lion shifters.” I need time to sort out my jumbled feelings. Or maybe I need to accept my lack of fear and fall?
