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He waved her into his garage while he parked beside it. Before exiting his car he paused to take a few breaths. He could do this. He could have a nice evening with Flash without screwing it up again. He would be cool. He would be funny. He would impress her and to impress her was to impress himself because anyone who could impress Flash was impressive as hell.
He found her in his garage with her duffel bag over her shoulder.
“Thanks again for coming up here,” he said as he unlocked the door to his house.
“No problem,” she said. “I was thinking earlier today how much I wanted to drive to the top of a volcano covered in a foot of snow to do even more work.”
“Two feet,” he said. “We got dumped on two nights ago. Hope your truck has heating.”
“It does. Although mine doesn’t have fancy heated seats like somebody’s does. You have a hot ass, Mr. Asher. Very hot...” As she walked past him into the house, she patted him on the seat of his pants, which were still warm from his new car’s electric heated seats. He took a moment to gently beat his head against the door frame before following her into the house.
He squared his shoulders and walked through the mud room into the living room. Flash stood in the center of the room, glancing around.
“Like it?” he asked.
“It’s nice,” she said. “I thought you said it was a fixer-upper. This all looks good. Is the knotty pine floor original?”
“It is,” he said. “But I had to strip it and refinish it.”
“You did it?”
“Yes,” he said. “Believe it or not I am capable of doing some home improvement projects on my own. I do run a construction company, after all.”
“You look supercute in your suit with your little hard hat on when you come to inspect us on-site.”
“I wasn’t always a suit,” he said, throwing his coat and briefcase down on the kitchen counter. “I used to hang drywall and put down flooring. Let’s see... I also poured concrete, painted, did a little basic masonry work and framed houses. I think I can strip and refinish a floor in my own house.”
“I know,” she said. “I just like giving you a hard time.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“The floors look great with your dark green walls. Your paint job?”
“Yeah, thanks.” He smiled hugely and then realized his “being cool” plan was already out the window if he was grinning like an idiot for the sole reason she’d complimented his wall color.
“Come here,” he said. “I’ll give you the ten-cent tour. The house was built in the 1940s. Three stories, cedar exterior, knotty pine floors. First floor is the living room and kitchen, second floor is the master bedroom, guest room and two bathrooms, top floor’s the loft.”
“What’s in the loft?”
“Me,” he said. “I sleep up there. Heat rises. Warmest room in the house at night. Plus it’s the only room where you can see the top of the mountain in the morning. Very good view.”
Ian paused, hoping she’d say something, anything, about wanting to see that view. But no, not a word.
“Um, all the furniture is made in Oregon,” he said, pointing at the wood-framed couch, the rustic dining table and the cane-back rocking chair. “There’s a hot tub outside.”
“Oh, my.”
“You like hot tubs?” he asked, a very pleasant image appearing unbidden in his mind, one that involved him and her and his hot tub and absolutely no clothing.
“Nope.”
“Let me guess—you also hate puppies, kittens and chocolate.”
“Yup.”
“Liar,” he said. She nodded, but that’s all she did. No flirting, no teasing, no winking, no nothing.
“Okay, the fireplace is in the sitting room. Want to see it?”
