Page 5 of Housebroke

She gave him a look. “That’s very... historical.”

“I go by Linc. And my mother’s a history teacher. She named all of us after historical figures.”

“All of you. So you have siblings.”

“Two brothers.”

“I see. So you’re moving in?”

“Sort of. I mean, not really. I’m renovating this place.”

She frowned. “Why? What’s wrong with it? It’s a great house.”

“It needs some updating before I sell it.”

“Oh.” She chewed on her lower lip for a beat. “So you’re one of those people.”

The way she said that told him she wasn’t a fan of his livelihood. “You mean people who invest in homes, fix them up and make them better, then sell them and improve the neighborhood?”

He didn’t miss her derisive snort. “Yeah. House flippers. You come in, do some cheap modifications so you can make a quick profit, then turn around and sell and then you’re off to the next house.”

“Well, when you say it like that it does sound bad. But that’s not what I do.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“And what do you do, Hazel?”

Her gaze shifted down to her dogs. “I foster dogs.”

“Is that what those are?”

“Yes. Sort of. Mostly.”

That was vague. “And you’re staying in an empty house because...?”

“It’s complicated. Say, are you hungry? I’m hungry. I was going to fix myself some dinner. Would you like something to eat?”

She was avoiding the question, but he was hungry. “Sure.”

“Awesome.”

She seemed relieved not to answer the question about what she was doing staying at the house, but Linc supposed the answer to that question could wait.

At least until after dinner.

CHAPTER TWO

Hazel was happy to have a reprieve from explaining her current circumstances to Linc. And deliriously relieved to not be out on the street with the pups. Also, she really was hungry, since she’d gotten distracted streaming a show on her iPad while folding laundry so she’d sort of forgotten about dinner. And then she’d heard a noise downstairs, so her hunger had been momentarily replaced by utter panic.

Finding a shadowy figure in the kitchen had just about sent her on a dead run out the back door. She’d have done just that if it had only been her, but she had the pups to think about. She was so grateful they had been silent, one of the first commands she taught all new dogs she fostered, because no one liked barky dogs and she never knew where she was going to end up next.

Linc sure was good-looking, she thought as she stirred the noodles in the boiling pot while she poured wine in the skillet that she’d almost used as a weapon to defend herself. It was a good thing Linc had sharp reflexes, because she’d been aiming for his head. Not that she could have hit him there, since he was very tall. He had a thick head of dark hair and some intense brown eyes. Andone amazing ass that she was not looking at anymore, otherwise her shrimp were going to taste like Penelope’s squeaky toys.

She drained the pasta, then poured the shrimp scampi over the top. She fixed up a basic Italian-style side salad with olives and tomatoes, along with an Italian vinaigrette dressing.

“Sorry about the paper plates,” she said as she scooted a plate across the peninsula toward him. “I don’t have dishes. Or a table and chairs. But there are barstools.”

She handed him a plastic fork.

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