Stop it. Stop it right now.
"That's..." She searched for something polite to say. "Interesting."
His mouth quirked up at one corner, and she realized he was fighting not to smile. "That's one way to put it. Most folks either think it's the coolest thing they've ever heard or the stupidest. You strike me as the latter."
The blush crept up her neck before she could stop it. "I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." This time he did smile, and it transformed his entire face. The guarded look disappeared, replaced by boyish charm that made her stomach flip. "Look, Iknow it's not exactly a traditional career path. But I'm good at it, and it pays the bills. Most of the time."
Most of the time.Red flag territory. That should have sent her straight to her stack of backup applications and the insurance adjuster who'd called that morning.
Instead, she sat down across from him, close enough that she could smell soap and leather. Close enough that she had to fight the urge to lean closer.
"How did you get hurt?"
"Ride that didn't go as planned." He stretched his injured leg out, wincing slightly. "Horse had other ideas. Stepped on my ankle on the way down, and here we are."
"Does it hurt?"
"Only when I think about how much money I'm losing sitting on the sidelines." He studied her for a moment, head tilted slightly. "What about you? What do you do when you're not interviewing potentially dangerous tenants?"
The question landed harder than it should have. "I'm between jobs right now. I was a retail buyer for Hartwell's, but they had to make some cuts."
"Hartwell's. That's the department store chain, right?" When she nodded, he leaned forward slightly. "That's got to be tough. Economy's been rough on a lot of folks lately."
There was genuine sympathy in his voice. No judgment about her unemployment or pity about her situation. Just acknowledgment that sometimes life handed you things you didn't see coming.
"It's temporary," she said, the words automatic after three weeks of practice. "I'll find something else soon."
"I'm sure you will." He glanced around the room again, taking in the details she'd tried to make look effortlessly put together. "This your place?"
"I bought it two years ago." Pride crept into her voice. "It was a foreclosure that needed work, but the bones were good."
"You did a nice job with it." He wasn't just being polite—she could tell he actually meant it. "Takes vision to see past the surface problems to what it could be."
The compliment settled into her chest and stayed there. Most of the men she'd dated had seen her house as either too small or too much work. They'd suggested she sell it and rent something newer, more convenient, less complicated.
But Dustin looked at her house the way she'd always wanted someone to look at it. The way she'd always wanted someone to look at her.
"So," she said, trying to get back to business before she did something stupid like ask him to stay for dinner. "When would you want to move in?"
"Tomorrow, if that works for you. I've been staying in a motel since I got out of the hospital, and it's getting expensive. Plus, the stairs are murder on this ankle."
Tomorrow. The word hung in the air between them, loaded with possibility. She thought about her dwindling bank account, the bills stacked on the counter, the job interviews that kept leading nowhere. Then she thought about the other candidates—the cryptocurrency guy, the handyman, Mr. Hot Tub—and realized none of them had made her feel like this.
Maybe her luck was finally changing.
She didn't believe in love at first sight or fate or any of that romantic nonsense she secretly devoured in paperback novels. She believed in financial planning and realistic expectations and protecting yourself from inevitable disappointment.
But her hands were shaking slightly as she said, "Do you have references?"
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded paper. "Previous landlord, my sponsor from the rodeo circuit,and the vet who takes care of my horse. All their numbers are on there."
She unfolded the paper, noting that his handwriting was surprisingly neat for someone who made his living getting trampled by livestock. The references looked legitimate, and the fact that he'd thought to bring them said something about his character.
"I'll need to call these tonight and let you know tomorrow morning."
"Fair enough." He grabbed his crutches and stood, moving more slowly than he had when he'd arrived. The injury was bothering him more than he wanted to let on. "Anything else you need to know about me?"
