“I’ll take a temporary truce.” He held the door open for her. It was curved at the top, making her think of hobbit houses, even though it was a full-size entrance, big enough even for John’s significant height.

Stepping inside, she pulled off her boots while looking around. The place smelled like lemons and fresh wood, and she mentally rearranged all of her preconceived notions about John and what type of house he’d have. The hardwood floors were scarred from decades of use but clean, and the light that filled the space didn’t catch on any dust motes floating in the air. She felt a sudden rush of self-consciousness for her own rather battered house. Usually, she and her sisters were too busy working to do more than the bare minimum of housecleaning, except when Cara had some stress to work out at two in the morning. Even without seeing the rest of the place, she knew for certain that his bathroom would be spotlessly clean.

John had gone quiet and was eyeing her carefully as she looked around. A flash of vulnerability peeked out around his standard expression, and she realized that he cared what she thought of his home. It reminded her of how intimate it had felt when he’d seen her living space, and it dawned on her that it worked the other way, too. Watching her take in his home for the first time had to be nerve-racking for him.

Feeling sympathetic, she offered the first compliment that came to mind. “It’s so much cleaner than I expected.”

He blinked, appearing torn between offense and laughter. “What do you mean? Did you think I’d have a dirty house? Do I give off hoarder vibes?” His face dropped with obvious horror. “Do I smell?” Ducking his head, he raised his arm and sniffed.

“You don’t smell.” Since that wasn’t technically true, as she couldn’t get his addictive scent out of her mind, she amended her words. “Bad. You don’t smell bad.”

Eyeing her suspiciously, he took a whiff of his other armpit. “If I don’t stink, why did you hesitate just now?”

She was not about to venture into that mess of an explanation, since it would only lead to extreme embarrassment. Instead, she rolled her eyes and gave him her best impatient look. “I didn’t. Were you going to change clothes?”

Tossing his arms up dramatically, his expression one of complete indignation, he pinned her with an accusing glare. “If I don’t smell, why are you suddenly so insistent that I change?”

“Ugh. Drama queen. That’s why we came here, remember?”

Although he lowered his arms, he didn’t look completely placated. “Right. I’ll go change.” He was halfway up the stairs as he muttered, “After I shower.”

She debated whether to shout something impatient after him, but she was actually glad he was taking a few minutes longer than expected, since she was dying to explore the rest of his house. “Take your time,” she said sweetly—too sweetly, judging by the way he halted and turned his head to eye her suspiciously. Widening her eyes, she returned his look with her best innocent one, and he finally turned to climb the rest of the stairs.