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Ian looked away as I pulled a thin T-shirt over my head.
“I don’t,” he called over his shoulder as I followed him down the hall.
“What?”
He turned to me and cradled Disco in his forearm.
“You run with her like that?”
He nodded.
“Ha! I bet you get a ton of attention.”
“She’s my ace in the hole. I have an orange juice waiting every morning at mile five.”
I looked at him skeptically. “Making rounds all over the island?”
He gave me a devilish grin. “But I’ll be coming home to you tonight.”
My heart skipped an odd beat before he disappeared out the door.
I spent my day getting three houses ready and the last of it walking Mrs. Tartar through the Kemps’ spotless beach house. Ian’s new cabinetwork opened the place up, made it seem light and a bit more… airy. It was truly beautiful.
“So you live next door?”
“Yes, but I would prefer you contact me by the number on the counter.”
Mrs. Tartar twisted her lips in distaste before she rudely dismissed me. I wasn’t looking forward to a week of her scrutiny. She had a definite bug up her ass. I was counting on my island to rid her of it.
Walking back to my house, I saw my porch candles were lit and my playlist was already on. I opened the door to see Ian in the kitchen. He was wearing a navy-blue T-shirt and loose sports shorts. His white smile greeted me. “Hey, didn’t want to disturb your routine.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, thanks.”
“I wanted to cook tonight if that’s okay?”
“Of course, smells good.” I pulled a vase from the cabinet next to him and filled it with water before I slid Banion’s latest creation in.
“You brought me flowers?” he asked teasingly.
“My friend owns a flower shop. I use him to make welcome bouquets for the rentals. Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“They are,” he said as he chopped up some figs.
“What ya’ cooking?”
“Salad and very bland chicken.”
“I’ll take it,” I said, snatching a fig from the cutting board and popping it into my mouth. I picked up a mason jar that sat next to a pile of vegetables. “What’s this?”
“Pomegranate dressing.”
“Wow,” I said before I shook it up and brought a fingerful to my mouth. “Delicious.”
“Yeah, my mother insisted she teach me a few things about cooking when I was growing up.”
“That’s awesome. I had to learn my cooking skills from Paula Dean and with your diet, I’ll be hard-pressed to find a recipe suitable for you.”
“No worries. I’m easy. I also bought some bananas,” he said his deep voice pure temptation. “I’m making you pops for dessert. I figured I’d reward you for being such a good muse.”
