Caleb took a couple of steps up and surveyed the room. “Partially. Someone left a bunch of junk here, but it wouldn’t take much to toss it out and finish the room off.”
It wasn’t a huge space, but he could think of a use or two that would make Hunter and Kata happy.
Stomping back down, he turned off the light, then guided Carlotta into the dining room. Other than thrashed carpet and another multi-colored paint job, there was nothing wrong with the room. Down a little hall, and he ran into one bedroom with a cracked window, another one with a large closet that needed a little drywall repair, and the master bathroom, which had some water damage around the shower. This was more than a weekend project…but he liked the challenge.
Caleb glanced over to find Carlotta hesitant, then furiously writing on her notepad. “You okay?”
She blinked at him as if coming out of her own world. “Fine, yes. All is well. Ideas flying in my head. This bedroom and bathroom should be spa colors. The bedroom just across the hall would make a lovely nursery. Kata has a love of white kitchens. White cabinets with a white, solid surface countertop. Something with streaks of gray or earth tones. Once we have that in place, I’ll have a better idea what color to paint the walls and what backsplash to choose. Something glass would be nice because she likes sparkle, but we will see what is available. What flooring did Hunter choose for the room? Did he leave us a budget?”
“Hardwoods. Yes, I’ve got it. How about we discuss more over lunch? I’m starving. You can tell me your ideas.”
“You go ahead. I have too much to write out to leave now. I will be fine here.” Subject dismissed in her mind, Carlotta turned with pen in hand and headed out the bedroom door.
Caleb frowned and gripped her elbow. His hand was gentle, but she wasn’t getting away. “Did you eat breakfast?”
“I usually skip it.”
He knew his frown became a glower, but he found her skipping meals unacceptable. “Not with me, you don’t. And you won’t be skipping lunch, either.”
“I am a grown woman. I do not need you to tell me when to eat.”
Wincing, Caleb let go of her arm. Since divorcing the ex-douche bag, Carlotta had guarded her independence zealously. Ordering her trampled on that. But he couldn’t let her simply have her way.
“We have hours of very hard work ahead of us. You need to fuel your body or you’ll be exhausted in an hour or two.”
Her eyes sharpened, large brown pools that seemed to have no end. He could fall in there if it meant staring at her gorgeous face for the next hundred years. Time had been kind to her. The small lines around her eyes were faint. Her lips were still a plump, red bow. The curves of her br**sts and hips were voluptuous. In the past two years, she’d grown her hair out so that it brushed over her shoulder caps in fat curls he wanted to bury his hands in as he guided her to his lips, his cock…
“I often eat but one meal a day. With hips such as these, I can afford to skip meals.”
She spoke the words wryly and meant them as a joke, but they just pissed Caleb off.
“Not when you’re with me.” He brought her closer. “I still remember that fragile woman Hunter took from Gordon’s house. He brought you to me and put you in my care. It’s my duty to watch over and protect you. My son and your daughter would not be happy with me if I allowed you to run yourself down. I’ll let you pick out whatever food you’d like, but we’re eating now.”
Carlotta dug in her very sexy heels. “I do not appreciate your bossiness.”
“It’s not the first time, and I doubt it will be the last.”
Caleb ushered her out the door. She stomped and huffed, and in truth, he had to work not to laugh…and be a little proud. When Hunter had first brought her to his house, she’d been meek and willing to accept anything in order not to create waves. And to look at her asserting herself now? It made his c**k hard. Then again, everything about her did.
Herding her out to the truck, he helped her up, then hopped into the driver’s side. “Where’s a good place to eat? I figure you used to live here, so you’d probably know. Have a favorite?”
She still seemed put out with him, but did answer. “One of my favorite places is very near here. At the end of the street, take a right. In two stoplights, head left. I will tell you when to stop.”
Fair enough. He followed directions and found himself parallel parking in the middle of a little downtown district that had been revitalized with unique shops, antique stores, a cupcake bakery, and… “Primrose and Saxby’s?”
Despite the rundown brick building, the lacy curtains screamed feminine and delicate. Carlotta sent him a coy smile as she approached the stained glass door.
Caleb pulled it open for her and a blast of sweet-smelling air hit him immediately. Flowers—and lots of them. Scented candles added another cloying note to the pungent, barfworthy fragrance. And lots of estrogen. Old-fashioned jewelry filled glass cases, framed by overflowing antiques that looked a hell of a lot like junk to him. And goddamn dolls everywhere in frilly dresses and dainty shoes with unblinking glass eyes. Oh, hell. What did women see in places like this?
A woman in a Victorian dress showed them to their table. A man in a tuxedo serenaded the crowd, singing sappy love songs and doing his best Barry White imitation. The menu consisted of items like chicken chutney salad, afternoon tea finger sandwiches, basil cheese tarts, and cream of leek soup. Carlotta pressed her lips together, looking exactly like the cat who swallowed the canary.
The waitress took their order, and he’d been thrilled to find a burger on the menu. Not his first choice, but the rest of this bird food would wear off in a couple of hours. Carlotta ordered a turkey swiss wrap and a lemon scone with clotted cream.
Caleb had no idea what that was precisely, but he had to admit that the food was actually pretty edible, even if the music made him want to vomit. She offered him half of the scone thing, which looked a bit like a hard turnover to him. He declined, and she bit into the scone. The look on her face as she did, the moan, the way she nibbled and licked her lips… Hell, did she have any idea how close he was to plucking her up from her chair, laying her across the table, and tearing her clothes off?
Gnashing his teeth as she spooned on some of that sweet white cream and finished the little dessert, he counted the minutes until he could escape this joint and get her alone.
“Did you used to come here a lot?” he asked to keep her talking. If they were having a conversation, they couldn’t be f**king—at least in theory. He could think of a lot of things he’d like to say to her while buried deep.