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Dawg stepped from the truck before opening the back side door and dragging out the picnic basket.
“You coming?” He looked over the top of the sunglasses, and that look sizzled. “There’s a nice little clearing out back where we can picnic. I’ll show you the house first, though. ”
Crista stepped from the truck and stared at the house. The dark logs helped it blend into the trees around it, as did the dark brown color of the tin roof. A porch surrounded it, as did a balcony on the top floor.
“I’m having a hot tub installed on the balcony outside the master bedroom on the back. ” He swept his hand toward the house as he met her at the front of the truck. “When the inside is finished, I’ll probably bring the Nauti Dawg out and tie her up to the dock where I managed to buy permission to build on the shoreline. ”
“Are you trying to become domesticated, Dawg?” she asked as he opened the wood gate and ushered her into the ranch yard.
He could still hear the nerves in her voice, her fear. The knowledge that Cranston now suspected her had thrown her. But there was no guilt in her eyes or her expression. Confusion, fear, yes. But it wasn
’t blazing; it was subdued. Whether Crista wanted to admit it or not, she trusted him.
“Come on into the house. ” He unlocked the front door, pushed it open slowly, and checked out the open, airy rooms before leading the way inside.
The walls were unpainted. The floors were unfinished. The stairwell wasn’t banistered, and the upstairs wasn’t much better. It was, as he liked to tell Rowdy and Natches, a work in progress.
Kind of like Crista. He looked at her as she stared around the entryway nervously and smiled.
That same smile that seemed to worry Natches so much. Possessing her heart might not be easy, but he was damned determined to do just that.
SEVENTEEN
Dawg’s house was incredible. The large entryway held a curving staircase to the second floor and an open hall that looked out over the unfinished balustrades. There were no doors on the five entrances on the second floor, but sunlight spilled from the windows on the front section and bathed the hall as well as the foyer in myriad sunbeams from the tall windows that looked out on the graveled road.
To her right, a large, open entrance led into what she assumed would be a living room with another entrance to the far end into another room. On her left, farther along the foyer, was another wide entrance into a dining room. Crista moved forward hesitantly, staring into the room and seeing the two sets of French doors that led onto the wide porch wrapping around the house. At the end of that room was another entrance that led into what was clearly a kitchen.
“Come on, I’ll show you around. ” Dawg led the way into the dining room, then into the kitchen.
“The foyer opens up to a back hall. ” He pointed out another door as they entered a large kitchen. “There
’s a pantry, a washroom, and a small spare bedroom along the hall as well as an office that opens into the living room. ”
Nothing was finished. By the look of the drywall and the dust along the floors, it hadn’t been long since it had been installed.
“I’m surprised,” she said as he gave her a quick tour of the house, upstairs and downstairs. “You’
ve managed this without a hint of gossip. ”
He flashed a grin as they stepped from the stairway back into the foyer. “That wasn’t easy, either.
I bought the land about three years ago through a third party, and I’ve had the work done in stages, through the same people. Once it’s complete, we’ll file the proper deeds, etc. , through the county. But it’
s mine, regardless. ”
“So why hide it?” she asked as they moved back into the kitchen.
Dawg moved to the roughly framed center island where the picnic basket sat on the strip of plywood covering the top frame. He braced his hip against the side of it and looked around silently for long moments.
“Pure spite, probably. ” He sighed, shaking his head ruefully. “The relatives seem to delight in knowing every damned move I make, so it’s become a game to do things they don’t know about and rub their noses in it. ”
“What about the house your parents left you?” Crista had seen the outside of that property several times. The front of the house was all that showed at the bottom of the mountain it had been built into.
Dawg’s father had been said to be one of the premier architects in the country for such buildings.
“The place makes me damned claustrophobic. ” He grimaced. “I’ll probably sell it eventually. ”
“Once you’ve milked your relatives of all the satisfaction you can squeeze from them?” She smiled in turn.
