the driveway and lawn between their houses, he smiled. Maybe she would let him pay her back with some kind of service. Very inappropriate thoughts filled his mind, most of them having to do with Wynn naked and on her back, while he had the delightful task of evening up the score.
He quickly pushed those images away and rang the bell. Seconds later Wynn let him in.
“Hi,” he said, holding out the wine. “I hope you like red.”
“I’m actually not picky when it comes to wine.”
She stepped back to let him in.
He’d been in her house before, when he’d come over to ask for help. Back then he’d been focused on needing to get things right for Joylyn, and he hadn’t paid attention to his surroundings. Now he had a moment to take in the differences between their two places.
Her living room was about the same size as his, but there was no massive TV or leather sofa. Her furniture was all fabric covered, done in earth tones of brown, teal and blue. There were rugs on the floor, and a fireplace. Books were stacked on shelves and pictures lined the mantel.
Plants with long vines and dangling leaves nestled with the books, and there were little knickknack thingies all around. A pair of Hunter’s shoes were by the door, along with a basket containing reusable grocery bags.
Not his style, he thought, assuming he had a style, but still nice. Everything felt right and comfortable. The space suited her and he liked being in it.
“Where’s the TV?” he asked.
She laughed. “You are such a guy.”
“You have to watch sports.”
“Technically, I don’t, but when I want to watch something, it’s in there.”
She pointed to a cabinet in the corner. The doors were closed, hiding the TV from view.
“But it’s so small. Poor Hunter.”
“Yet he continues to thrive.”
“Children are so resilient.”
She smiled. “If it makes you feel better, we have a family room at the back of the house and there’s a much larger TV in there.”
“I’ll sleep better tonight knowing that.”
They passed a large dining room with a big wood table, then went into the kitchen. Here the layout was similar to his. Like the living room, this space had plenty of personal items everywhere, including a Star Wars canister set. There was a round wood table with four chairs by the big bay window. A wicker cornucopia decoration overflowed with apples and oranges.
Wynn motioned to one of the stools at the island. “I just need to pull together a salad and dinner will be ready.”
As she spoke, she put a tray of rolls into the oven and set the timer, then pulled a corkscrew out of a drawer and handed it to him.
“I made a stew.” She pointed to the Crock-Pot on the counter. “It’s really easy. I prep everything the night before, then toss it into the pot before I leave for work. When I get home ten hours later, the meal is ready.”
He opened the wine, then poured. “You sound like you’re strongly hinting at something.”
“I am. A Crock-Pot would be good for you. Better than takeout. Plus all the recipes make a lot of food, so you could fill your freezer and have easy dinners later.”
He handed her a glass. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a caretaker. It’s nice.”
“I’m not. I’m just saying—”
“I’m never going to use a Crock-Pot, Wynn. Or bake.”
Amusement danced in her pretty brown eyes. “You’re saying I should stop trying to convince you?”
“You can try all you want, but you’re destined for disappointment.”
“Fine.” She touched her glass to his. “I’ll say it again. You’re such a guy.”
“I am.”
For a second their gazes locked. Something flashed between them—something with a little sizzle and promise. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on his part.
Once again he wanted to bury his hands in her curly hair, only this time the image had a little more detail to it. He didn’t just want to feel the softness of the curl, he wanted to cup her head and draw her close and kiss her until...
She turned away. “I should start on that salad.”
He carried the wine bottle over to the table, then returned to his seat at the island.
“How do you do it all?” he asked. “You got Hunter off to school, went to work yourself, were at my house by three, unpacked everything, washed it, and here you are, making dinner.”
She waved away the compliment. “I was happy to help. As for the rest