Page 9 of The Love Shack

“The kitchen is small, so I figured white. They’ll blend with the cabinets and subway tile to make it feel bigger.”

“Love it. What else?”

“This old beat-up table.” He smoothed his hand over the marred surface. “It’ll be replaced with a bar and some stools to free up floor space and give a little more prep area.”

“Do you ever cook?”

“Not much. You?”

She was actually a great cook, and she enjoyed it, but for years she’d only had herself to care for. “Not often.” That should have been the end of her statement, but somehow more words tumbled out. “I can cook.”Damn it.“Not bragging, just saying.”Double damn.Defensively, she lifted her chin. “I’m actually good at it.”Just shut up.She clamped her lips together, determined to keep any further thoughts private.

“Maybe when my house is done, you can help me celebrate, like a housewarming gift or something, by fixing dinner here. Sort of break in the place.”

Appalled by the invitation, she opened her mouth, but she had no idea how to decline.

He saved her by moving on with a quick smile. “How about I show you around? It’s coming together, but you’re the first person to see it.”

He seriously didn’t seem to notice that she was a mess today, or that she was babbling about things she’d rather not discuss.

She dredged up a shrug. “Sure, as long as you don’t mind Hero snooping around, too.”

“Not at all.” Lawson paused. “He doesn’t mark his territory or anything, does he?”

Fighting a grin, she replied, “Only outside.”

“Yeah, well, he can piddle on all the trees and rocks he wants. Maybe it’ll keep the raccoons away.” He went down a hallway, then stopped at a door. “Guest bath.”

She peered around him. “Wow, it’s bigger than I expected.”

“I hear that a lot.”

It took her a second, but the double entendre sank in, and when she glanced at him—standing far too close as they both crowded into the bathroom doorway—she saw his mischievous grin and the humor in his light brown eyes.

Huffing a laugh, she said, “Men! You’re all braggarts.”Dear God. Did I just make a joke about male anatomy?Unheard of. In her experience, men weren’t funny. Absurd, maybe. Often obnoxious.

Sometimes total heartless dicks.

A rush of heat poured through her system, making her skin burn and her throat tighten.

Smoothly, Lawson said, “I got rid of the tub to make the room feel bigger. The white tiled shower and glass door help with the illusion.”

Doing her best to recover—again—she said, “You must be a neat freak to be able to keep all this white clean.”

Looking her in the eyes, he said, “I grew up in the same place you did, Berkley. Maybe the inside of your house was a little nicer, but in ours, nothing was ever white, or even clean for that matter. The way my folks smoked, nicotine layered everything we owned. On humid days, it dripped from the ceiling. When I left, I decided I’d never live like that again.”

The words, said dispassionately, still carried an emotional punch. He’d always been so confident that even as a high school boy he’d stood out. There’d been the people like her, those just trying to survive. Pitiful and sometimes desperate. The many addicted to drugs and alcohol. And the bullies and thugs, taking advantage of others. The abusers.

And there’d been Lawson Salder...in a league all his own.

In some indefinable way, he’d boldly owned his space, unbothered by the threats around him, neither joining the gangs nor inflicting cruelty on the vulnerable.

He’d seemed so above it all, she’d never considered how their shared beginning might have affected him—which was maybe selfish of her, because he was right. The street they’d lived on had been filthy, in ways beyond the aesthetics.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded his acceptance. “I’m not fanatical about being clean,” he said, “and when you see the bedroom, you’ll know I’m messier than some.”

See his bedroom?

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