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This is fine.
Totally normal behavior, and not even a little bit date-like.
Yeah.
I really cannot go around thinking Shepherd is treating me like adate.
We’re not dating.
We’re not even screwing anymore.
This is purely a work meeting until it isn’t.
“Thanks,” he says smoothly. “I designed it myself.”
“Wait, what? You’re an architect too?”
“I’m demanding. I hired the right people to make my needs a reality.”
No argument there.
He flips the steaks over. “None of the other houses I looked at had what I wanted, so I had to build it. It only took a hundred hours of my life with sketches and consultations and corrections.”
I have to grip the counter with both hands.
Is therenothinghe isn’t good at?
“It paid off. This place is drop-dead gorgeous.”
Molly lets out a loud yip of agreement that bounces off the high ceilings.
His next glance is assessing, but he just nods.
Deftly, like he’s heard it a thousand times, and maybe he has.
This is a home that deserves to be shown, though he’s so private I can’t imagine he would.
I watch him slather the steaks in green sauce, line asparagus neatly on the side, and then spoon rosemary-scented potatoes onto the plate.
My mouth waters.
After animals and the ocean, my next dearest love might just be food. I’m not ashamed of it either.
“You don’t have a chef?” I ask as we take our places on the island, opposite one another.
“No. No staff,” he answers.
“None at all?” My eyebrows go up. Even Dad keeps over a dozen people on payroll just to manage everything when he owns several properties and travels a ton.
“A few cleaners come in twice a week, just to help stay on top of things. There’s also my personal security specialist, Hank, now interning with Enguard Security out in California. I don’t skimp on my safety.”
I stare at him, waiting for more that seems to hang in the air.
It makes perfect sense that a man with his money who heads a world-class home security company would have strong personal protection. So why does it feel like more than that?
He reaches down to scratch Molly’s head before I can ask.
I don’t know if it’s me, but his voice sounds a tad wistful. A tiny bit lonely.
