Page 40 of Sullivan

“Look around, get acquainted with the place,” he invited.

His home was nice. Masculine with clean lines and simple furnishings. Yet it was homey. A massive, inviting sofa faced a fireplace, with two deep wingbacks flanking it. A TV hung over the simple, heavy-looking wooden mantel. A thick rug felt soft under my feet. The walls were a deep ivory and the furnishings rich green and black. Dark wood tables finished the area, as well as a few cushions and blankets that looked perfect for afternoon naps by the fire. Bookshelves were on either side of the fireplace, filled with various genres. Fiction, history, law, mystery, even nonfiction, all blended together, showing his varied tastes. He had a small office, containing more shelves of books and a desk with a mammoth computer screen off to one side.

I spotted the bedroom down the hall and, unable to resist, took a peek inside.

He had a king-sized bed with a padded leather head- and foot-board and matching siderails. The sheets looked soft, the comforter a cloud. This room was done in browns and blues—very manly, yet still pleasing to the eye. His dresser was tall, taller than me, and I spied a walk-in closet. The room had a chair in the corner, a throw over the back, and a table with a lamp and a stack of books, a pair of glasses perched on top. The room smelled like him. Warm. Inviting.

The bathroom contained a walk-in shower and a stand-alone tub. Double sinks. All in muted colors with glass and brushed chrome. Tasteful and understated elegance surrounded me.

I headed back to the kitchen, where gleaming cupboards and modern appliances were arranged in a well-thought-out design. The stone counters were dark, playing off the lighter cupboards and walls. The floor was warm under my feet.

“Lovely place,” I said, sliding onto a barstool.

He grinned. “I like it.”

“Did you have it done?”

He shook his head as he plated dinner. “Not completely. Roisin helped a bit, but I bought pieces I liked and had help getting it finished to my own taste. I’m not much for frilly things, but I like comfort.”

“It shows.”

He lifted the plates. “We can eat at the table.”

“Can I help?”

“Bring the wine.”

He slid a plate in front of me after I sat down. The table was small but nice. Round, with enough room for four, although for two, it was perfect. I eyed the flowers, and he kissed my head before sitting beside me. “Those are for you, my lady.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, feeling a bit overwhelmed. I couldn’t recall the last time someone had gotten me flowers. I touched a petal on one of the big lilies. “So lovely.”

He touched my face. “As are you.”

We gazed at each other for a moment, the air around us filled with emotion.

Then he smiled. “Eat, Autumn.”

I glanced at the stuffed chicken and potatoes, the glazed carrots, and smiled. “Looks great.”

“Only the best for my woman.”

I laughed and picked up my wine. “Your woman appreciates it.”

He tapped his glass to mine. “Good.”

After dinner, we tidied up. He was quick and methodical, putting the leftovers in containers and into the fridge, stacking the dishwasher, and making a pot of tea. He held up a package of biscuits. “Dessert,” he proclaimed.

We carried a tray into the living area, then sat on his gigantic sofa. I laughed as I curled into the corner, pulling my legs under me. “My feet don’t hit the floor.”

“That happens when you’re height-challenged,” he said with a wink.

“Not all of us are giants.”

“What are you? Five two?”

I glared at him. “I am five four,” I informed him haughtily. “And a quarter.”

“Oh, excuse me.” He held up his hands. “I’m six three. And a half. So almost a foot on you, little lady.”