The chest beneath had a wood and brass tray that already held Dean’s wallet and a set of keys, along with a framed early childhood photo of him wearing shorts and a football helmet so big it rested on his collarbones. Next to the chest, a curly iron coatrack waited for one of his jackets, and a rustic twig basket held a pair of sneakers and a football. A sturdy mahogany chair with a carved back offered a convenient place to change into running shoes or glance through the mail. “You’ve designed everything around him. Has he noticed how personalized this is?”

“I doubt it.”

Blue took in an oval wall mirror with a carved wooden frame. “All you need is a shelf for his moisturizer and eyelash curler.”

“Behave. Have you noticed that he hardly ever looks at himself?”

“I’ve noticed. I just haven’t chosen to let him know I’ve noticed.”

Blue loved the rest of the house, especially the living room, which had been transformed with pale, buttery paint and a big Oriental rug. The vintage landscapes Blue had discovered in the back of an antique shop looked great with the bold, contemporary canvas April had hung over the fireplace. The worn leather club chairs April had found were in place, along with a carved walnut armoire to hold stereo equipment, and an oversize coffee table with drawers for remote controls and game film. More photos sat on top, some taken of him with childhood friends, others from his teen and college years. Somehow Blue didn’t think the pictures were his idea.

Dean unconsciously adjusted his hammering to the music of the Black Eyed Peas coming from the kitchen. He and Jack had been working on the porch most of the day. The exterior walls were up, and tomorrow they’d start on the roof. He glanced toward the kitchen window. Blue had nodded at him when she’d arrived, but she hadn’t come out to say hello, and he hadn’t gone in. He was pissed with himself for losing it with her last night on the stairs, but at least he had her on his turf now, and nothing beat a home field advantage. Blue loved the farm, and if she was too stubborn to move back, he could at least remind her of what she was missing. One way or another, he was determined to get what he wanted—the affair they both deserved.

Inside, someone turned up the music. April and Riley were supposed to be helping with dinner, but April didn’t like to cook, and he could see her dragging Riley away from peeling potatoes to dance. He watched Blue set aside a mixing bowl and join them. She hopped around like a tree fairy, arms waving, her ponytail bobbing. If she’d been alone, he might have gone in to dance with her, but not with April and Jack hanging around.