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I arched an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”
He grinned, stepping back as I approached the front door. A wave of warm, spicy scent enveloped me as I brushed past Cameron, and I only inhaled a little bit of it.
Maybe more than a little, but there was no need to dwell on it. Everyone needed to breathe.
The inside of the house was bright and clean and nicely decorated. The kitchen had crisp white cabinets and bold black handles, a small island holding a walnut tray with short, fat candles and a round vase full of long green stems.
There was a round table off to the side and a dark gray sofa with big cushions pressed against the far wall. Furry blankets draped over leather armchairs that faced the sofa.
Off to the other side of the house were two bedrooms and a bathroom.
“This house feels like a hug,” I said quietly. Then my eyes pinched shut for a moment because I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
Cameron tucked his hands into his jeans, rocking back on his heels while his eyes stayed locked on my face. “Everyone needs one of those sometimes.”
I tore my gaze away because this emotional subtext was about to choke me, and I wanted no part in it.
“Bit more inviting than the last one, if nothing else.”
He smiled. “At least you went in.”
“Of course I went in,” I said breezily. “It’s just a house.”
Why was he staring at me like that?
I could not be that interesting. Why I didn’t want to go in the house could not be that interesting to him.
Naturally, it made me swipe at him a little, just because all the warm and soft and kind was making me feel restless and edgy.
“So everyone in the family lives within walking distance, huh? No wonder you never settled down. Must be hell on your dating life when Mom can bring your supper over every night.”
He didn’t take the bait.
“Nah, I prefer to go to their place for supper.” He shrugged one big shoulder. “That way, she can do my laundry too.”
I narrowed my eyes.
He laughed. “I’m kidding. I do my own laundry.” Then he arched an eyebrow. “Can you say the same, duchess?”
At the sly twinkle in his eye when he said that name, I slicked a tongue over my teeth. He dangled bait of his own, and I refused to snap at it. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Cameron’s smile deepened, that fucking dimple appearing again.
It was a purely biological response, I told myself. My lizard brain had a deep recognition of the purely masculine being next to me.
Because he was big and strong and handsome, and he’d done a nice thing to make me feel safe. It wasn’t like I could fight how that made me feel.
But damn if I wouldn’t try.
“I should go to bed,” I told him.
He nodded.
Then his jaw clenched.
Why?
Why did it make my stomach flip that way?
