Happily This Christmas (Happily Inc #6) by Susan Mallery
Wynn paused in his living room and looked at the black leather sectional, and the seventy-five-inch TV mounted on the wall.
“That is a very large television,” she murmured.
He suspected she didn’t mean the comment as a compliment, but he was good with that. “I like sports. Bigger is better.”
“With the players practically life-size?”
He grinned, unrepentant. “It’s a guy thing.”
“No wonder Hunter is always begging me to let him come over and watch the game with you.”
“You should say yes. I’m good with kids.” He always had been. The skill probably came from having a child when he’d still been in high school. He’d been forced to learn fast. He’d spent much of his after-school hours during his senior year studying while looking after Joylyn. He’d learned how to manage feedings, diapers and colic. He might have been a kid himself, but he’d done his best to be a good dad.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She pointed to the walls. “You don’t have any artwork.”
“Should I?” He studied the bare space. “Doesn’t it look clean just plain?”
“There’s clean and then there’s sterile. A few inexpensive prints would add a little color. Maybe distract from the continent-size television.”
He grinned. “But why would you want to do that?”
“There is something strange about your gender.”
“I’ve heard that.”
She smiled as she walked around the room.
“Ignoring the black leather sofa, to which I would ask, ‘what were you thinking,’ the space is good. I like the end tables.”
He glanced at the wood-and-glass cubes. They were more modern than he usually liked, but they were well made and the wood was mahogany inlaid with ebony.
“I’m pretty sure they’re custom,” he told her. “I know they’re handmade. I found them at an estate sale. They were pricey, but worth it.”
“They’re gorgeous.” She pulled out her phone and took a few pictures. “Maybe we can find some pieces that link back to the pattern on the wood. You never know.” She looked at him. “Kitchen next?”
He led the way.
One of the reasons he’d bought the house was the fact that it had already been updated. He liked working with his hands, but he preferred projects to be things he wanted to do rather than things that were required to make a place livable. He’d wanted three bedrooms, and the pool out back had been a plus. The kitchen was big with a lot of windows and good-quality cabinets. His real estate agent had gone on about the appliances and counter space, but he didn’t cook, so none of that mattered to him. He was more of a takeout kind of guy. He worked long hours, he lived alone—getting food to-go was easy.
He waited while Wynn looked around. Her brown eyes were large and expressive. He liked her eyes. And her hair. It was dark and long and curly. Like, really curly. He often found himself wanting to touch the curls to see if they were as soft as they looked.
Of course he also thought about other kinds of touching—not that he would act on those thoughts, either. But a guy could dream, and Wynn was definitely dream material.
She pointed to the empty space by the bay window. “That would be where a table and chairs would go. Unless you eat in the dining room.”
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