LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Where was this taken?”

      “Afghanistan.”

      He didn’t smile and didn’t elaborate. Of course he wouldn’t. She’d already learned from Stone that part of their lives was off-limits to discussion. She picked up another one, a photo of him and Stone and another guy she didn’t recognize. “Who’s this?”

      He glanced over her shoulder. “That’s Levi. He’s still in.”

      “Handsome guy.”

      “Yeah. He thinks so, too.”

      He didn’t hold a candle to Matt in that department, but of course that was only her opinion. She picked up another photo, not done discovering Matt through a journey of a few snapshots. Images, as she realized all too well, told a story. And everyone had a story to tell. She picked up another framed picture of a little boy missing his two front teeth. It was obviously a school photo. His hair was mussed up like he’d just come back from recess, an adorably devilish grin on his face.

      “Is this Hunter?”

      “Yeah, when he was six. It’s probably my favorite picture of him.”

      “He sure looks like you.” She put the photo down on Matt’s dresser and cleared her throat. “Okay. Maybe we should discuss, uh, you know, some kind of...you know.”

      “Some kind of...?”

      There went the IQ again. “Rules, Matt. Rules.”

      “I’m not big on rules. You should know this about me.”

      “G-ground rules.” She continued to stammer and sputter like the village idiot. “House rules.”

      “Ah.” Matt winked. “You don’t want me to ruin your game.”

      “My game? No, I mean I don’t want to ruin your game.”

      He put up a hand. “Wait. Let me see if I understand you. You’re saying I can bring a woman over here if I want?”

      “Sure.” Her hand traced the smooth edge of his dresser. “I don’t want you to neglect your...needs. Or anything.”

      Oh God, was she blushing? Please let him say he won’t bring a woman over. She’d offered but she didn’t want him to accept. Was it too late to take it back?

      He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s generous of you.”

      “You’re helping me out in a big way.” Probably not in the way she’d prefer, but she didn’t want to be greedy. That would be wrong.

      “And you’re helping me. You should have seen my landlord’s face when I told her I wouldn’t be renewing my lease.”

      “Oh, good! Anyway, I don’t want you to feel like this isn’t your house, too. As long as you’re here, this is your house.”

      “So kick off my shoes and stay awhile?”

      She lifted a shoulder. “This is all I’m saying.”

      “Sounds good. And, Sarah?”

      “Yeah?”

      “I’m not going to be bringing any women over. But thanks for the offer.”

      Offer? She hadn’t made an offer yet. Had she been handing out offers, she might have asked Matt if he’d consider door number two: Sarah Mcallister, thirty years old, single, no kids. Dark brown hair, green eyes. Five foot eight in stocking feet. Comes with her own toothbrush. Doesn’t steal the covers.

      “So I guess if you want to see a woman, you’ll go over to her place.”

      His eyes narrowed. “Did you bring waders for this fishing expedition?”

      Busted. She had to remember she wasn’t dealing with the type of man-child she dated back home in Fort Collins. When she could get a date. Matt was nothing if not direct.

      “Uh...”

      “For the record, I’m not seeing anyone. How about you?”

      She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not seeing anyone, either.”

      “That’s what I thought, but as long as we’re clearing the air...”

      “Air cleared!” She waved her arms and moved into the kitchen.

      He followed her. “I’m going to get started on those floors in the hallway first. Before one of us trips.” Already making himself at home, he reached for a glass from the cupboard.

      “Sounds good, and I’ll help.”

      “No worries. I’m going to need to rip up everything you did. Don’t take this the wrong way, but carpentry is not your strong suit.” He filled his glass with water from the sink.

      She laughed like a loon. “I know.”

      “So, I’m good.” He leaned back against the countertop and guzzled water.

      She watched as his throat muscles moved and constricted, fascinated. He had a powerful neck, and she watched the way he gripped the glass in his big hand, like it was never getting away from him. She found the way he drank water to be incredibly sexy. Almost sensual. And also, she was probably going to need to visit a psychiatrist soon. She’d never found a man’s Adam’s apple particularly stimulating but there you go. She was a very sick woman.

      She pulled her gaze away from his neck and forced herself to pick up a spoon and pretend she would do something with it. “But I feel like I should help.”

      “Nah, this is why I’m here.” He set the empty glass in the sink and his shoulder bumped hers. “Let me earn my ten percent.”

      “Fifteen percent, you mean.”

      He grinned. “Thought I might slip that by you.”

      She giggled like a schoolgirl, but then she remembered...underwear. Shit! She almost ran into Matt trying to race past him to the bathroom.

      “What the hell?” He moved out of her way.

      Of course today had to be underwear day. She had all her thongs and bras airing out in the bathroom she hadn’t had to share with anyone else for weeks. Naturally he was right behind her, probably wondering if she’d accidentally set his fifteen percent of the house on fire. She snatched red push-up bras and satiny black thongs off the towel bars as fast as her two hands could move, but it still wasn’t fast enough.

      If the unsuccessful way he tried to contain his grin was any indication, he’d seen everything.

      “Sorry.” She clutched her bras and panties in both hands. “I forgot. I’ve been living alone for a while.”

      Matt shook his head slowly, his large body filling the doorway. “That’s...not a problem.”

      “I’ll just put these in my bedroom.”

      She couldn’t look at him as she rushed past him. They’d never even kissed and he’d already seen her panties.

      An hour later, Matt had set himself up in the hallway and ripped up all of her handiwork. Sarah kept busy by keeping Shackles away from nails and other life-threatening injuries, letting him outside in the backyard and back in again about a hundred times per hour. She needed a dog door, but it was low on her list of priorities. For now, she was Shackles’s door woman.

      “How long have you had him?” Matt asked.

      She’d just let Shackles in again from the backyard and hadn’t heard Matt come up behind her. “It’s been over a month now. The adoptive family who brought him out with Paws and Pilots changed their mind. Guess their kid turned out to be allergic.”

      “It was good of you to take him in.”

      Matt had worked up a sweat and his white T-shirt stuck to him like a second skin. His

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