Page 7 of Solitary Man

This house was small: one bedroom, a living room, a kitchen, laundry, and bathroom. I was glad I had a working toilet now. At least there was that. But I wasn’t finished. I’d begun working on an extension, adding another couple of bedrooms and an office for Riley to write her books in.

I switched off the small electric fence charger, unhooked the bungee cords across the door, unlocked it and shoved it open. She followed me in.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Electric bungee. Stops the bears.”

She laughed nervously. “Bears. Right…of course. How could I forget?”

I strode through the living room and into the bedroom, putting her bags on the floor. My gaze moved to the bed, and my gut tightened, the ache increasing, becoming almost unbearable.

“This is so pretty,” she said behind me.

I had to stop myself from jumping out of my skin.

“Still building the extension,” I made myself say. I wanted her to know I was going to give her a good home, that I could provide for her. That I’d give her whatever she needed.

“So right now it’s just the one bedroom?” she asked and glanced around my room.

Her cheeks were pink, her eyes wide. I cleared my throat. “Yep.”

“Maybe you could…show me the rest of the house?”

Was being in the bedroom with me scaring her? The grip in my gut wasn’t the good kind anymore. What if she didn’t want me like that? What if she saw the size of me and was disgusted? Afraid?

My heart beat faster.

She married you.

I dragged in a breath, trying to calm myself. She had. She could have backed out, but she hadn’t.

I dipped my chin and led her back into the living room, then through to the kitchen. I motioned to the door off that. “Laundry and bathroom. Just put them in.”

She walked through, and I held my breath. Riley said she loved baths, so I put in a tub. It was the old, heavy, cast-iron, claw-foot kind. I’d taken it from my family home, the only thing I had here from my life before I lost my folks. It’d taken some getting it here because of its size and weight. I’d restored it for her, as a kind of wedding present.

She stood in the middle of the room and took it all in. It was a big bathroom. I’d built the cabinets and ordered the basin and toilet in special from the city. The washing machine was new, too.

“This is…wow, Cash, this is beautiful. If the extension you’re working on is half as nice, your house is going to be gorgeous.”

“Ours,” I said before I knew the word was coming out of my mouth.

“Pardon?” she said, turning to me, eyes wide.

“Our home,” I forced myself to repeat, even as my face heated again.

Her lips curled up at the edges. “Oh, yes. Ours.”

I wanted to kiss her then, badly.

Instead, I walked out before I embarrassed myself.

We’d finished eating a little while ago. I’d had some leftover venison stew I’d heated up. Riley was on the couch, her legs tucked up under her, eyes heavy. She was tired and trying to fight it.

It wasn’t overly cold, but I’d lit the fire. I didn’t want her cold. I wanted her to feel warm and happy here with me, safe. She needed to know how good I could take care of her.

It was getting late, but neither of us had made a move to the bedroom.

What was I supposed to do? Did she expect me to make the first move? How did I do that? Did she even want that? Did she want time to get to know me before we did…anything?