“The bathroom’s in there, through the bedroom,” Isobel said. She suddenly seemed awkward.

I wondered if my amazed gawking at all the splendor made her self-conscious, or if she was coming to realize just how close we’d been standing. She turned her face to the side, hiding her scars. I wanted to tell her to stop, to touch her chin and force her to face me directly.

But she rotated away and left the pool house before I could summon the nerve.

Clearing my throat, I nodded to myself and stepped into the bedroom.

Yep, I could definitely live here. Quite comfortably. The bed was probably a queen size and about twice as wide as the sleeper sofa I’d been using since Mom had moved in with me and taken over my bedroom. A little depressed over the fact I couldn’t sneak in here and take that nap on this bed, I found the bathroom and shook my head.

Again, it was all rock with half the space taken up by a shower full of glass doors and about a dozen different showerheads. I was already drooling for the experience when I shut the door behind me and began to peel off my damp running clothes as fast as I could. I tore off my hat then kicked off my shoes even as I shucked my sweats.

Figuring out how to turn on the various showerheads and control the temperature was a bit of a challenge. I froze my backside, then burned it, before getting things just right. And then…then I just stood there, getting pummeled by what felt like a million miniature wet massages.

“Heaven,” I moaned, lifting my face to one spray. “Oh, God. This is heaven.”

Deciding the stainless steel dispensers hanging from the wall contained the soap and shampoo I needed, I pushed a button and flooded my hand with foamy soap. It smelled woodsy, spicy and masculine. I lathered my body and rinsed. Then, I couldn’t help myself, I soaped up again. It just felt so good. I could shower in here all day.

But it didn’t take me long to remember who I was, and where I was, and what time it was. It’d be six soon, and if I wanted to start my workday at six, I’d better stop using all my employer’s things and get to work.

A little ashamed of myself for dawdling, I rinsed and shut off the water before shaking myself dry. After opening the shower door, I hunted up a towel in the cupboard above the toilet.

On went fresh underwear, socks, and a clean pair of jeans. I’d had a little too much fun with all the hot water, so the room felt like a sauna. I took my work boots and a folded shirt from my backpack before gathering all my running shit and stuffing them inside. Then I opened the door to finish dressing in the less humid bedroom.

No sooner had I snapped the T-shirt open and lifted it above my head to slide it on than Isobel came through the doorway.

“I brought more towels in case there weren’t any—oh!”

Instead of rushing to pull the shirt the rest of the way on, I lowered my arms but kept the shirt stretched across my chest since I’d already shoved my arms into the armholes. Only one shoulder, the tops of my biceps, and the side of my ribs were exposed to her.

That seemed to be enough to make her blush though. She hugged the towels she’d been holding to her chest and blinked at me.

Heat pooled under my freshly washed skin, building deeper, and lower.

“I’m already done,” I said. “And yeah, there were plenty of towels. But thanks.”

She moved her head up and down but didn’t speak. Her eyes seemed stuck on my exposed flesh. My biceps particularly liked the attention. Without my permission, they twitched, not a full-out flex, but not a tiny flinch either. The damn things were definitely showing off, and it was enough to make Isobel jump and realize she’d been gaping. She turned to the side, so she was no longer facing me.

The strange thing was, she turned to the side where I could see her scars on full display, and I had to say, it did my ego good to realize my undressed state had flustered her enough to forget to hide them from me.

“That…” She paused to swallow. “That was fast.”

To me, it had felt like the longest shower I’d ever taken, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. I slipped the shirt on, taking my time and biting back a grin when I caught sight of her turning back to stare again.

“I wasn’t sure how close to six it was,” I said, putting my back to her as I bent over to slip my shoes on. “I didn’t want to be late to work.”

She caught an audible breath before stuttering, “I…you…you’re not late.” She sounded somewhat breathless as I kept my jean-covered ass facing her way the entire time I laced up my boots.

When I was done, I snapped the hems of my jeans over the tops of my boots before straightening and turning toward her.

Her shoulders rose and fell before she added, “You’re right on time.”

“Great.” I grinned and finger combed my hair a few times before calling it good and slapping my hat on. “You want to get back to the library and plan those bookshelves then? I did a little research this weekend and got a few more cool ideas, mostly dealing with molding and designs.”

It struck me how painfully inept I was to make shelves in a place like this that hosted what had to be a multimillion-dollar pool house rock cave. But if Henry, and more importantly Isobel, didn’t seem to mind, then I wasn’t going to mind either.

Isobel started to nod. “I, okay. I…” Her eyes flared wide, gaze fixed on me. But when I moved toward her, she tripped a step back. “Actually, no. I…I think I’m going to take a quick shower too.” Then I swear I heard her mumble under her breath, “A cold shower.” But I wasn’t sure because she followed it so quickly with, “Why don’t you head to the kitchen and beg some breakfast from Mrs. Pan? I’ll meet you there, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, nodding, my stomach growling happily over the prospect of food. “Works for me.”