Page 42 of Fierce-Gabe

He went in and stopped on the tile in the foyer. “Shoes on or off?” She had black socks on her feet with her jeans and a tan sweater.

“It’s up to you,” she said. “I’m not fussy either way.”

He slipped them off and heard her laugh, then looked down at his red socks with smiley faces on them. “What?”

“Really? I didn’t expect that.”

“Why not brighten up my wardrobe from the boring jeans, T-shirt, and flannel shirt? No one sees them in my work boots, but I know they are there.” He was wiggling his toes on the floor.

She made a face that was a combination of a frown and a smirk. “Good point. Do they make you smile?”

“I don’t think much of it,” he said. “But they did you.”

He wasn’t lying. He’d gotten home, showered, changed and grabbed clothes at random. Including his socks. He put them on without a thought as to what the design was.

“They did,” she said.

“This is a nice place. I guess I thought you’d own your own home.”

“I own this,” she said.

“I meant a house your family’s business would have built.”

“I thought of it, but that is a lot of work.”

“I get the feeling you can do just about anything,” he said, looking around.

The place was two levels and he could see from the living room into a dining room and kitchen then what looked to be another small family room in the back. All open layout and modern. There were glass doors back there too and stairs to the left of the door.

Nice dark hardwood wide plank floors. Almost the same as he had and he found it funny.

The rooms were a soft almond color, the kitchen in creams and browns. No white and gray and bright for her. She wouldn’t be one that would be on trend.

“I can fix little things. My father and brother the rest. But mowing the lawn and roofs and those things. The AC’s on the roof. Too much for me. I’d rather pay my monthly fees and have no worries.”

“I can see that point. Just not a lot of privacy either,” he said. It’d drive him nuts to not have his own space.

“No,” she said. “I don’t spend much time outside for that reason. I’ve got a grill and a small table and chairs but rarely sit there. I’m sure you’ve got a nice big house but doubt you built it.”

It was not the type of construction his family did. He could, but didn’t have the time.

“No,” he said. “Your family built it.”

“What?” she asked.

“Not for me,” he said. “It’s six years old. The people who had it built sold it two years later. I’ve been there about four years. Before that I was in a condo too. It was easy living but not for me. As I said, I’m a homebody and like the quiet.”

“I don’t know your address to know which house it is,” she said.

He gave her his address. “Now you’ve got it and you can come to me next time.”

“I could,” she said and that gave him hope they’d get past this night.

“Did you design this place?” he asked. It was minimalistic on top of it. She didn’t like clutter and he had a feeling that carried through to her entire life.

“I did. I’ve been here about eight years now. It was pretty old inside when I bought it. A gut job and easily done with my family and all. I did do some of the work myself.”

“Tell me what you did,” he said.

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