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I laughed. “Sure, after a twenty-minute drive to the fairgrounds, ten minutes of carting my stuff, and another twenty minutes back, then it’s only a two-minute drive.”
He smiled. “You’re right,” he rumbled, “You should take me out for dinner to thank me.”
I barked out a surprised laugh. “I should. Absolutely. Are you hungry? You want to get something to eat?”
He considered the offer. “How about we go for a drive through, pick you up something for dinner, and you can go home and put your feet up. Next week, when you’re not ready to drop, and you can give me the attention I deserve, you can take me out.”
“Hmm. The attention you deserve? Someone knows their worth,” I teased gently.
He smiled, but didn’t answer, and kept his eyes on the road.
He didn’t talk all that much. It was not uncomfortable. In fact, it was a relief to not have to keep up a steady stream of bubbly conversation.
I thought for a moment about the possibility of going out for dinner with him. He was a vet at the animal shelter. He was related to Rhys. Rhys was a friend of my brother-in-law, Zale’s. This made Barrett was relatively safe, even if he did look like a displaced Viking.
Or a great blond grizzly bear.
I decided. “All right, next week. I can do that.”
He nodded without smiling, pulled his SUV into a visitor’s spot, and helped me haul all my boxes up to my condo.
“Nice place.” He whistled, pulling off his shades and looking around.
“Thank you!”
I loved my place.
It was my third home. I didn’t count my childhood home with my parents. My first home had been the tiny apartment my best friend Junie and I rented together in university. It was the first home in which I could stand at ease without having to be ever ready to duck the constant criticism.
My second home was a condo on the fifth floor of my same building. It was also a rental and I had set it up beautifully. The only problem was that it was on the fifth floor. My niece, Olivia, who I adored and who stayed with me often, was terrified of elevators. Getting her up to the fifth floor on the elevator was an exercise in futility, so when the opportunity came to purchase it, I passed. Luckily, the new owner had purchased it for future retirement and allowed me to stay out my rental agreement.
I started looking for something else right away. When this one became available, I jumped on it. It was a dump, and it took me two years to fix it up, but it was gorgeous now.
Two bedrooms, a long galley kitchen open to the dining and living area, and a gorgeous balcony. Inside, exposed brick, pipes, and reclaimed wood set the tone for my sometimes-wonky decor. While I stuck to neutral and comfortable seating, when it came to lighting, pillows, and wall art, things took a turn toward quirky.
In my living room, an iron raven had a bird’s eye view of the whole place from his perch on the wall. He held a black cord attached to a dangling bulb to light the space around him. Two more ravens perched on a corner table and a bookshelf respectively, bringing more light to the sitting area. Bracketed against the brick wall between the kitchen and the dining area, an industrial pulley wheel suspended a black domed light fixture with an exposed bulb.
All my lighting was fantastic. Over my dining room table, which had a black base and live edge wood tabletop and matching bench seats, hung a heavy beam, suspended from chains affixed to heavy black brackets, and embedded with an LED bar along its solid length.
Bookshelves, made from black pipes and reclaimed wood, held my beloved books. Two of the bookshelves were in the living room, the third, in my bedroom, matching perfectly with my cast iron bed.
All this dark and heavy required balance. I achieved this with soft blankets strewn over seat backs, my collection of kintsugi vases, their delicate fissures lined with gold, several crystal candleholders and scattered mirrors that reflected light and warmth. My favorite art pieces, a few of my own creations mixed in, adorned the walls, and my flowering plants dotted the entirety of my space.
My home reflected me. A mix of light and dark, striving always for balance.
“Would you like something to drink?”
I didn’t really know if I wanted him to stay or not, but it would be rude to not offer him a drink at least.
He turned to me and met my eyes, without shades, for the first time.
“Oh!”
The tension I had felt between us ratcheted up fourteen levels. I stepped closer to him, drawn to him without conscious thought. I looked up into his face. He tipped his chin down and continued to hold my eyes.
“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen in my life,” I murmured.
I was an artist. I noticed things like this, but anyone would notice his eyes. A true hazel, the dusky ring of his iris held a kaleidoscope of blue and green and brown, their colors mixing with the light making it impossible to discern a clear delineation between one color and the next.
