Page 74 of The Lair

I also tell myself it’s none of my business if one of those friends is a woman or if they’re morethan friends. Instead, I focus on the two snouts sniffing my jacket. Travis wasn’t joking—they’re huge up close.

And because my heart was never meant to survive this man, Travis tells the dogs, “She’s a friend, all right? Be gentle with her.”

Hetalksto them. Also, me? A friend? Sure, we have friendship bracelets now, but I didn’t think he took those seriously.

Also, what happened tonotbefriending his staff?

They don’t react when I pet them—in fact, they ignore me a bit—which I take as a good sign. If they didn’t approve of me, I guess they would growl or something, but they look as relaxed as they do with Travis.

“Want to see the interior of the house?”

The sun peeking through the clouds makes me squint as I glance up at him. “Sure. Are they allowed inside?”

Travis rubs their chins as both dogs try to lick his hands.

“Under normal circumstances, no. They are too big and knock everything down without meaning to. I keep the barn open, and their food, water, and doghouses are in there. But if there’s a big storm, I’ll allow them inside until it passes. They’ve never been too interested in coming inside the house anyway. They love it out here.” He tips his chin toward the house. “Follow me.”

I’ve never been inside a man’s house before, so I don’t know what to expect of Travis’s. A bit of chaos, maybe a forgotten sock lying in the middle of the hallway. But the only word that comes to mind when I cross the threshold is…wow. Plainly and simply,wow.

Shiny wooden floors, cream-colored walls decorated with pictures of the Maine landscape, and spacious and sunny rooms meet my eyesight in all directions. There’s a masculine air to his place that feels cozy.

“This is the living room.” Travis stops behind the massive couch in front of a big flat-screen TV. Right next to it is thekitchen and dining area. “You can buy whatever food you want for yourself. If you don’t want me to eat it, just let me know. You can eat my food if you want.”

I try not to sound too awkward. “It’s all right. We can share meals. I could cook for both of us.”

He sends me an unreadable look over his shoulder as we move across the hall. “You’re not my housekeeper.”

I frown at his comment. “I never said I was or wanted to be.”

Travis pauses in front of a closed door at the end of the hall. “You don’t have to cook for me.”

“What if I want to?”

“You don’t have to.”

“You didn’t have to offer me a place to live, yet here we are.”

I get one of those frustrated sighs that make him so endearing. “We’ll see.”

He opens the door to a sunny bedroom with white walls, flowy curtains, a big dresser, and a four-poster bed, big enough to have at least three people sleep on it.

“This is your bedroom,” he says, as if I had already accepted his move-in offer. To be fair, after seeing this house, declining is becoming more unappealing by the second. “Let me show you the bathroom.”

Conveniently, it’s right next door. I peek inside and see a modern shower, a toilet, and a small sink. Everything looks and smells clean—no mold in sight, unlike my own apartment I haven’t stepped foot in in almost a week.

“This will be your private bathroom,” Travis says. “I never use it, but if someone comes to visit, they might.”

“That’s fine. You have your own bathroom?”

“It’s attached to my bedroom.”

“Fancy.” I smile up at him. “You said there were three bedrooms?”

We pass by a door he doesn’t open but lets me know is his bedroom, and we end the tour in the smallest bedroom across from his. When I look inside, I blink.

“It’s empty,” I say, as if he didn’t live here and know already.

There’s nothing here—not a bed, not a desk, not even storage boxes or a home gym. Nothing.

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