Page 49 of Something Like Shelter

“Yes, hello to you too. Did your dad leave you out here to greet us?” I asked, petting his head.

Behind him, the door pulled open.

And there was Owen.

In jeans and a soft, heathered gray shirt that hugged his body and showed off his strong arms. A dish towel was casually thrown over his shoulder.

I wasn’t sure he’d ever looked better.

“I thought I heard him whining.” Owen’s gaze swept quickly over me, pausing for the briefest of seconds on my chest before forcing it back up to my face.

“He’s quite the welcoming committee.”

“His favorite people are here,” he said, shrugging that off as he reached for Adelaide’s car seat. “Come on in.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but the interior was just as warm as the exterior.

We stepped into the living room with its medium-toned wood floors, molding, ceiling beams, and built-in half bookshelves that divided the living room from the dining room.

The windows spilled golden light in on two of the walls, but above them were the stained glass features Owen had mentioned—making little rainbows stripes across the two beige couches. They sat on a red, brown, black, and beige plaid carpet, lamps sitting on each end table, a distressed coffee table, and a framed TV over a brick fireplace on the wall across from the seating. And those bookshelves? Loaded with books. I was itching to get over there to see what he was into reading.

There was something about Owen’s house that made me feel oddly safe. But not the way my security system or locked doors made me feel safe. This was something warmer. Something like shelter from a storm. Like a place you could cozy up and relax.

“Your house is gorgeous,” I told him. “It just begs you to get cozy.”

“Thanks. That was what I was going for with it. I’ll give you a quick tour.”

From there, he led me through to the dining room that featured more of those big windows, warm wood built-ins, and coffered ceiling.

In my mind, I could suddenly see myself sitting up at the table full of kids, of family, of friends.

The warm wood spilled into the kitchen cabinets, trim, and ceiling accents as well. The backsplash and countertops were black, and he had a deep farmhouse-style sink, top-of-the-line appliances—including a double oven—and a walk-in pantry.

“Is all this original?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, no. The previous owners had gutted the place and gone full white-on-white modern. It took me a long time and research to get it back to what it likely originally looked like. Plus some better appliances.”

“We’ve already established that I don’t cook, but even I want to chop something in here.”

He shot me a smile at that.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

He placed the car seat on a small table near the windows and Tuna came rushing over to poke at her feet, dragging a little giggling sound out of her.

“That’s new,” Owen said, shooting Adelaide a soft smile that made my heart feel all melted.

“It is. She probably won’t really start laughing for another month or so, but she is definitely doing little giggles already.”

“Those laughs are gonna be worth the wait.”

“I know. I’m so ready for them. Oh! I left dessert in the car. I’ll be right back.”

“We’ll be here,” he said, waving toward Adelaide and her best friend, Tuna.

I made my way back through the house, glancing at the books on the shelves and finding a combination of interior design and handyman-type books, classic fiction, and a few modern thrillers.

I couldn’t help but picture Owen on the couch at night after work, Tuna resting with his head on his leg, as he thumbed through a novel.