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He laughed, that deep rich sound that sent tingles racing down her spine.
“Why are you nervous? It’s just a house.”
“I get to see where you live,” she said, her enthusiasm coming through in her voice. His space. He’d invited her and she’d jumped at the chance.
Mike glanced at her with a serious expression. “It’s nothing special. Just a normal place, like yours. A living room, kitchen, bedrooms.”
“It must be big.”
“Nooo.” He drew out the word. “It’s the house I grew up in. I lived with my dad.”
“Yes, you said you bought it from him. But you built a big garage.” Where he housed his Mustang. Where he’d spent many hours sweating, building, restoring. The more she thought about his personal space, the more enthusiastic she grew. It was almost arousing.
“It’s nothing fancy either. Just a building.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re expecting, Cassie. I hope you won’t be disappointed.”
Disappointed?
She suddenly realized her mistake. In her excitement, she’d blundered and made him think … what?
“Mike. You’ve talked about a garage you built for you Mustang. You mentioned an engine hoist and tools. I just imagined a lot of space for you to work or tinker, or play with your big boy toys. I’m excited because it’s your space. It’s you. Where you spend your time. Where you worked on your beautiful car.”
When his face eased into a grin, the tension in her chest vanished. “Ah. It’s really the car you want to see.”
She answered him with a teasing smile of her own. “Of course.”
He turned at the intersection, taking a road to the right. They’d gone about a mile and he turned into a sub-division, then pulled into a gravel driveway, leading to a small two-story house. She stared at the quaint home as the truck rolled to a stop.
“Here we are. Home sweet home.” Mike shoved the gearshift into park.
The outside was a soft yellow with white shutters and three steps leading up to a porch that was enclosed with wooden rails. The driveway extended around the side of the house, making Cassie wonder if the garage was back there.
“I guess I should take you in the front. The driveway goes around to the back of the house.”
“Works for me.” Breathless with anticipation, Cassie hopped out of the truck. Mike met her and placed his palm on her lower back. Heat surged through every part of her, the way it did every time he touched her. She almost leaned into his warmth, but she wanted to see his house.
He opened the front door and motioned for her to go in first. “This is the living room.”
The walls and furniture were done in greens and browns. In the middle of the room were two recliners and a leather couch. Definitely a man’s taste. Box shades at the windows, instead of curtains, gave it a clean-cut look. A large book shelf, handmade, lined one wall holding more movies than books. And, not surprisingly, the man size TV. She’d guess at least sixty inches. A lamp and coasters were the only items on the end table. Simple, neat and very cozy.
“Through here is the kitchen.”
She stepped into a nice sized kitchen with plenty of space for a dining table and four chairs.
They must have eaten their meals in here. Homey.
“Do you cook?”
“Of course. Mostly at the station. All the guys cook. We take turns. Although, Shep is the best. He and Laredo compete. I’m happy to pull clean up.” He turned. “This way to the bathroom.” He strode toward a doorway that led to a hall circling back to the living room.
Cassie was surprised at the cleanliness of his home. No clutter. Evidently, Mike was a neat freak.
“Tell me. Did you clean up for me or hire someone to clean your house?”
Mike looked offended, but he over-killed pretending to be insulted. He was too darn cute.
“Do you think I can’t clean a house? Growing up, it was just me and Dad. We did it all. Cook, clean—no one else was there to do it for us.”
“You’ve done a magnificent job,” she purred. She knew how to stroke a man’s pride and she promised to make up for it later.
