It wasn’t that Colin was never pushy or controlling, because he excelled at both those skills. The difference was that, whatever he did, he wouldn’t harm me. Not ever. I couldn’t even make him do it. I should know—I had tried. It was as if I’d been searching for him without even knowing it, trying out random men at a bar in the world’s stupidest litmus test.

And now that I’d found him, the trick was how not to lose him. I got out of the car and strode up the sidewalk. He stepped aside and, with a nod of his head, invited me in. As I passed, I could feel the tension vibrating within him—curiosity, frustration, maybe lust—carefully caged within thick walls of patience.

He took my coat. I followed the trail of savory aromas to the kitchen and set the dessert I’d brought on the counter.

“Drink?” he asked.

“Sure. That would be… Thanks.”

“Wine? Beer?”

“Oh.” I didn’t usually drink alcohol except for my club nights. The numbing effects would be welcomed now, except I needed to keep it together tonight. Didn’t want to go spilling secrets, after all. “Maybe just water.”

He handed me a glass. “We’ve got a few minutes before the pot roast is done.”

“Mmm, pot roast.” It had been forever since I’d had real meat, not the rubbery stuff that came in canned soup. Since my last date with Colin, actually. “It smells amazing.”

“It’s from the restaurant.” He quirked his lips. “With scalloped potatoes.”

I grinned. “So you’re a meat and potatoes kind of guy.”

He shrugged. “I’m pretty simple.”

I snorted. Simple as a Rubik’s Cube. But all I said was, “Maybe.”

The white cabinets, Formica countertops, and tiled backsplash matched the quaintness of the house but looked new. The stainless-steel appliances and fixtures completed the picture of a modern kitchen. But I’d expect nothing less from the owner of a restaurant. I might have been envious if I had ever imagined such things for myself.

I peered back the way we’d come, through the dining room.

“Did you want me to show you around?” he asked.

“Yes.” I smiled. I noted his hesitation and his stiffness, but I did want to see his house. Every little detail, from the green splash of color from the tea towel to the prickly aloe plant that sat on the counter, was a piece of Colin. I would hoard that knowledge like a miser collects coins and later strums through them with his fingers just for the pleasure of it.

Despite the coziness of the house, there was a definite sparseness to its furnishing. So male. So Colin. Plush seating and dark wood furniture stood so perfectly in place, without clutter, that I half expected to see price tags hanging on them.