‘Really?’ Oh, the possibilities had his mind running.

‘Don’t push it, buddy.’ From the small desk pushed into the corner, Bree scooped up a UHF radio, slid it into one of the radio holsters they wore while mustering, and hung it off the TV trolley. ‘If you need anything, you can radio for it.’

‘Where will you be?’

‘Out in the smithy’s shed.’

She swiped over her tablet, then held up the screen to show an image of some stranger’s lounge room. ‘Which one do you like?’ She swiped through a set of different rooms.

‘Why?’

‘I want to know what you like in a house.’

He pushed the tablet away. ‘Don’t do it, Bree. It’s my home.’ The home he’d fought for.

The redhead gave him a know-it-all grin. ‘Your mother said I could decorate it.’

‘It’smyhouse.’ He gritted his teeth. So what if it was a run-down dump, it washis. And the roof was solid.

‘Yes, I’m aware that it’s your house, which is why I’m asking what you want done to the inside.’ Again, she held up that tablet.

Dex wanted to hurl it across the room. ‘I said no. Stop pushing it.’

With hands on hips, the evil thing got right in his face. ‘Listen up, Stormcloud. In case you hadn’t realised it—the sooner we get your house to pass muster, the sooner you can get the hell off my couch.’

Breathe, mate.

He sat back, scowling at the witch. ‘No girlie stuff.’

‘Duh, that was a no-brainer. I’m thinking dark browns, blacks, and industrial greys to suit your personality as the dark underlord. Something like a demonic man cave in a deserted factory.’

‘You should call this place hell, or the torture palace.’ He gripped the mask to breathe.

Bree grinned as she scrolled through the tablet. ‘Here, how’s this?’ She turned it to show him an image of a living room suitable for some fancy rich bachelor.

He didn’t mind it. Tugging the tablet from her fingers, he scrolled through the images of strangers’ homes. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

‘If you haven’t noticed, I enjoy doing makeovers on both humans and houses.’

The last makeover Bree did was on Cap’s place. The old dogbox looked amazing with its new deck and outdoor kitchen, complete with retractable shade sails. Cap and Mia were keen to finish building before the wet season.

Cap had also mentioned that Bree had the uncanny knack for knowing exactly what he wanted when she renovated Cap’s dogbox.

But Dex wasn’t convinced of the witch’s work.

‘What do you want in your dream house?’ She angled her head to look at the images he flicked through on Pinterest.

‘A bed. A beer fridge. Something to cook on. And a shower.’

‘That’s it?’

‘I’ve got my boxing ring.’ It was the only thing he’d built at the stockman’s shack—an undercover workout area in what used to be the carport.

He peered out the window, missing his morning workouts, and the simple ability to punch the bag daily, let alone walk the distance from the cottage to the farmhouse.

From Bree’s couch, through the open stained-glass windows, he couldn’t see anything, except for the blue sky and the mass of assorted blooming flowers that Charlie tended to in the front garden. He couldn’t see the sheds’ roofs or the farmhouse. He didn’t even hear the dogs barking from Cap’s kennels. It was surprisingly quiet, as if they were on a separate farm.

‘Hey, if you rest up, and do as you’re told, it won’t be long and you’ll get back out there.’