He’d gone for light hardwood throughout. Original, Gloria guessed by the scarring. Battered but beautiful. The walls were a pristine white that, if given the chance, she would change to hunter green or a slate blue. The living and dining spaces were open to each other, bisected by the staircase. There were plants crowded on end tables, perched on the fireplace mantel, and crammed onto the built-in shelves.

Gloria didn’t know a ton about taking care of living things, but she assumed that plants needed light more than books and magazines. She stepped up to the aloe plant on the mantel. It was still in its brown retail pot, a dinner plate shoved underneath to catch excess water. A quick spin of the pot revealed the price tag.

The plant next to it, a small Boston fern, still bore its identification marker in the soil.

She examined the other plants in the room. Had Aldo purchased an entire garden center’s worth of plants just to give her something to water?

The thought made her smile. It wasn’t so much underhanded as opportunistic. And dare she think it? A little romantic. She’d offered to water his plants, after all. Had he really wanted her in his house that much?

Considering the possibility gave her a dark thrill that propelled her up the L-shaped staircase in search of his bedroom. There were three bedrooms on this level. A lot of room for a bachelor. Gloria found the master at the back of the house with a wall of windows overlooking the backyard. The furniture—a bed, a dresser, and an oversized chair—was Aldo-esque. Sturdy, masculine, but still friendly, she decided, perching on the soft mattress. Eyeing the pillows, she thought about Aldo Moretta, her past crush and potential future boyfriend, laying his head there.

He’d hung photos on the walls in here. His mother, him and the Garrisons. One of him and Luke shirtless and laughing in some desert. Both men were excellent physical specimens. Both were mugging for the camera. But only one of them had her pulse kicking into gear. Gloria wasn’t sure if her libido was coming back to life or if it was rusty and confused from disuse. She shouldn’t be having these feelings, that quickening, that honeyed slide into attraction. It was too soon. She didn’t really know him. Hadn’t she vowed that she’d never make that mistake of falling too fast again?

With reluctance, she turned away from the photo. There were more plants here, stacked like mismatched socks on his otherwise orderly dresser. Aldo had wanted her in here. Wanted this connection to her. Whatever his reasons, Gloria needed it, too.