Читать книгу Leverage - Janie Crouch - Страница 13

Chapter Seven

Dylan didn’t allow himself to dwell on that tiny scrap of lace during the drive to his house. He needed to stay focused and make sure no one was following them. Although he knew following them on the windy road that led from town to his house with no headlights would be nearly impossible.

But that gave him too much time to think about red-and-black material, so he focused instead on being doubly sure no one followed.

No one did.

The storm still raged as they reached Dylan’s house fifteen minutes later. Although he normally wouldn’t park there, he pulled into the garage so they wouldn’t have to get wet again. Shelby was just beginning to stop shivering. She hadn’t said much of anything on the drive here. Once she’d snatched the thong off his finger, she’d kind of hunkered down over on the opposite side of the cab.

About as far from Dylan as she could get.

Dylan turned off the ignition and opened his door. He would’ve gone around to help Shelby, but she’d already made it out fine on her own. So he opened the door that led through a small mudroom before entering the main part of his house.

Dylan’s house wasn’t too large. Three decent-size bedrooms, a living room with a large fireplace and a kitchen with an eat-in nook. Dylan had designed and built most of it himself, based on his own needs and preferences. It definitely had not been built with entertaining in mind. Hell, except for family, Dylan never entertained anybody at his house. Any meetings concerning his charter business were conducted at his office by the airfield a half mile away.

Dylan wasn’t a sloppy person—his mother hadn’t allowed it growing up, neither had the army—but still he looked over his house with a critical eye. He’d never brought a woman here before, and for the first time had a moment’s doubt. What did his house look like to Shelby? Too sparse, too masculine, too rough around the edges? There definitely weren’t a tremendous amount of creature comforts here.

Dylan wondered if Shelby would start complaining right off the bat, or if she’d be too polite to do so. She hadn’t seemed to hold back any of her opinions so far, so Dylan didn’t expect her to do so now. But when he turned to look at Shelby as she walked farther into the living room, she didn’t seem to be put off at all by his house.

“This is a great space,” she told him, looking around. “Lots of windows. I’m sure that lets in great light during the day.”

Dylan had to admit he was impressed. He didn’t think Shelby would notice the windows, his favorite feature, first. He thought she might notice the kitchen was small and rather rustic—Dylan wasn’t much of a cook—or that the television was pretty tiny in the living room and off to the side.