“It sounds like a wonderful life,” she said.
“It’s not nearly as expensive to live here as in the city. In the city I had to live in a small flat and rent space to work—it was inconvenient. I have to be flexible. I also do cabinets, trim, just about anything. I’ve even worked as a framer. And I train dogs.”
Her eyes got very big. “Dogs?” she said.
He frowned and peered at her. “Dogs,” he said. “I’m only working with a couple right now but I’ve had as many as eight at once. It’s not a big business, not full-time. I’m just kind of hooked.”
She gulped. “Do you train them to be attack dogs? Guard dogs?”
“No,” he said. “Hunting dogs or support dogs or just plain nice family dogs. I trained a PTSD support dog once—he was amazing. I’d love to do more of that…”
“So, you have dogs?”
“Hey, you have a problem with dogs?”
“I’m afraid of them,” she said. “I was bitten when I was six. Badly. I don’t think I got over it.”
“If I have dogs in training, they don’t run free. I have a fenced area where they train or play and I have my own dog, an English setter named Otis. He’s an amazing partner and helps with the training. I usually bring an extra dog who’s in training into the house at night to be sure they cohabit, and Otis is less okay with that every year. He’s ten. I guess he’s entitled. He’s been with me a long time.” He frowned again. “I manage the dogs very carefully. You’re in absolutely no danger. Ever. I can’t have a trainee get loose—can you imagine the terrible mess if I lost one?”
“Hunting, huh?” she asked. “Support dogs?”
“All kinds of support—for owners with anxiety or diabetes or phobias or, like I said, PTSD. If you decide to stick around, I can help with that fear thing, though can I stress to you right now—you should never trust a dog you don’t know. They’re animals, after all.”
So, he could help her, she thought wryly. It was universal, that desire to fix things, especially with men. She didn’t want to be fixed. She wanted dogs to stay away from her. She had a spontaneous urge to flee before he went any further with his offer.
“Let’s just have a peek at the inside,” he said, walking onto the porch. “It may not be what you’re looking for, but you came all this way.”
Before she had even gotten to the porch, he was holding the door open.
“Would you prefer to look around by yourself?”
“It’s okay. You can come in. It’s your house. There might be things you want to point out.”
“Sure,” he said, standing aside so she could enter. “This is the living room.”
She stepped through the door. Damn. It was lovely. Modern, decorated in earth tones of beige, rust, brown and a small bit of yellow. It was one large room. There was a sectional sofa and easy chair with an ottoman on one end, a dining table on the other. It had an open kitchen with a small breakfast bar and two bar stools. The living room furniture looked soft and comfortable, accented with pillows in a variety of colors and a large square coffee table, all sitting on a large, white-and-beige, deep shag area rug. The floor and furniture were polished to a high sheen; the countertops and cupboards looked as though they’d been recently wiped down. The appliances were immaculate.
“This is beautiful,” she said before she could check her words. The rent probably just went up, she thought.
“No fireplace, I’m afraid. I have one in the bigger house. The bedrooms are that way. A master and guest room, but like I said, I never furnished the guest room. If you need to use it for guests, just give me some notice. I can get it furnished. Go ahead. There’s a big closet and good-size bath.”
She passed a small powder room and stepped into a lovely bedroom, if a little masculine. There was a king-size bed and again, the colors were beige and brown. The bed frame was large, the headboard tall and tufted with a wheat-colored fabric. There were two bedside tables and a bench at the foot of the bed. That was it for furniture. She glanced over her shoulder at him and he indicated a couple of pocket doors. She slid them apart and they opened into a master closet that was very large. And of course empty, since he wasn’t living here.
“Wow,” she said.
“Yes. When I built it, I robbed the bedroom of some space to make the closet larger—I always had a lot to store. Everything from camping gear and art supplies to linens. There’s a small stackable washer and dryer right there, too. If you have to wash something large like a rug or comforter, my washer is larger and available. The spare room is just down the hall two steps. It was my shop or studio, whatever your preference. It’s only a room. There’s no closet, no bath, nothing but a space.