“I’m grumpy because you are pushy and bossy and you take over when you should back off.”

He grinned for a moment. “Alamah, you knew I was bossy and pushy when you let me get you naked.”

He was so right she should be embarrassed. “You have other attributes that seem to blind me temporarily to your overbearing nature.”

He laughed. “Thank goodness then. Come on. Pack up. Shall I grab the books on your shelves so you can study them at my house?”

“Fine.”

She moved into the bathroom to gather her toiletries. And to get some space. He clouded her judgment with his . . . well, his gorgeousness and his ability to be really good at everything and the way he just let her be bitchy and kissed it out of her when he got a mind to.

Lord, she was in such trouble.

She tried to be annoyed that she’d have to drive so far to get to the office, but when she licked her lips she tasted him again and it fled.

Her clothes went into a garment bag. She only wore a few different pairs of shoes to work, but she brought many others to his place because one never knew when she might want to wear some pretty heels after all.

If he claimed to want to be with her, he needed to understand she had a lot of clothes. And shoes. And bags. And books too.

He’d clearly run some boxes down to the car while she had pulled her stuff together in the other room because her shelves were a lot more bare when she came out.

“I took the liberty of grabbing the teas and your teapot and some of the stuff in your fridge so it won’t spoil. Will you allow me to drive home? I know all the back ways and you can make calls if you need to.”

“See? How hard is it to ask instead of giving an imperious now and frowning at me?”

“We both have to adjust, no?” He kissed her again and took her suitcase and garment bag when she was hormone addled.

“You can drive if you’ll point the car through the In-N-Out drive-through on the way.”

“I can do that.”

He walked out, wearing a smile and when he wasn’t looking, she gave one too.

“THERE are two full closets. I’ll give you the one here in the master and take the one in the other bedroom.” He brought her suitcases into the house.

She shoved a few more fries into her face. “I can take the other closet. There’s no sense in you moving everything.”

“I want you to feel at home here. A safe place.”

He was so sweet she couldn’t resist moving to him and kissing him. “Sorry about the salt.”

He licked his lips. “Somehow you can make salt sexy.”

She moved into the room she’d slept in just a week before. A week. Jeez. So much had happened in that time.

The closet was gigantic with racks for shoes and bags and lots of space to hang things. Even without the utterly beautiful male standing a few feet away looking adorably uncertain, she’d live there for this dream of a closet.

“This is a fabulous closet. I’ll take it.”

He smiled and it warmed her. Man, she was in big trouble.

“Why don’t you look at the one in our bedroom first? Then you can decide.”

“I’m going to eat this Double-Double with cheese and suck down my milkshake first. Then I’ll look.”

He put the box he’d been holding down on the bed and followed her out. “I’ll get plates. Sit.”

“Okay then. Thanks.”

He brought plates and she put all the food out and they sat in companionable silence for some time as they ate.

Once they’d finished and cleaned up—he dried and she washed—they’d brought the rest of her things into the house.

She busied herself getting the layout of the closet and the built-in drawers. It was a weird thing she knew. But organizing stuff made her relax, enabled her to let go of all the insanity of the last months and focus on some problem solving. Not just where her socks would go, but how to organize the new teams going out into the field.

She turned to see him pocket a silver box. One she’d noticed on a side table earlier.

“What’s that?”

“An old silver piece. It doesn’t really go in here.” He looked her over with that face of his and she forgot why she had that little frisson of uncertainty.

“This is your home too. I want you to . . . feel that. Put things where you like them. Tell me what color you want walls to be and I’ll take care of it. Don’t like the bedding? I can change that.”

“You’re such a prince.” She grinned as she watched him as he stalked her way. “I have no doubt you can snap your fingers and make all sorts of things happen.”

“I am what I am, alamah, and you’ll need to get used to that too. I want you to be happy. I’ll do what it takes to make that happen.” He shrugged as if most people were that way when they weren’t. Despite how fast things had jumped from hot chemistry to ohmigod you’re it for me, it moved her that he was so focused on her well-being. No one had ever been that for her. It was overwhelming but in a good way.

“I’m really hard to live with.” She shrugged. And then she remembered the box. Funny thing about having such a sharp memory. There was a stylized L on the lid. Lydia perhaps?

He barked a laugh. “You can organize your books by color and spine size. I’ll make an effort to comply.”

“Oh that. Well, that’s why it’s a good thing I can have my own closet. I like things in their place. It makes me feel better to know exactly where stuff will be. But I’m sort of temperamental.”

Again he laughed. “I haven’t noticed.” And then he kept laughing.

“Har. Look, Mister, I’m just trying to be up front, as you seem to want to try this living together thing. I’m not all purple scarves and glitter like my sister.” Or flirting behind fans and elbow-length gloves and stuff.

“You bring that up as if I don’t know. You’re not anyone else but you, thank gods. I crave you, not anyone else. I admit it, I’m sort of strangely turned on in anticipation of seeing what your closet will look like once you’ve finished.”

She shook her head at him, unable to hold back a smile.

“I’m particular. I get up very early and I’m often bitchy about it. I am intolerant of generic ice cream. I only like Kraft macaroni and cheese or homemade. I am religious about my coffee. My mother will make you eat tofu and mung beans. You need to accept that. She’s a total hippie. Her name is Rain after all. She will talk to you at length about how awesome veganism is and how cake with no eggs or butter is just as good as cake with, and you have to nod and pretend such a thing could ever be true. I’ll need a workspace here where you will not lay your crap or borrow my pens.”

“Are you trying to scare me? Because you’re not. There are four bedrooms here. You can have any of the other three to use as an office. I won’t borrow your pens.” He snorted and she sent him a raised brow. “I promise. Or lay my crap on your work things. Though, alamah, I don’t lay my crap anywhere. I don’t even have crap. I have belongings.”

“I told you I was difficult.”

“But you’re worth it, so stop trying to scare me off.”

“I’m not nice. Or easy to be around.”

He paused, leaning over to take her hand. “What’s this about? Hm?”

She squirmed, uncomfortable that he knew her so well. “I don’t know what you mean. I just think it should be clear what you’re getting into.” She wasn’t a high-born fancypants Regency lady–type person. His wife probably had been gentle and had soft hands and never said boo. Helena didn’t have gentle manners, though, if she did say so herself, she’d wager her fashion sense was as good as, if not better than, Lydia’s had been.

He merely looked at her carefully. “Your scent changes. Just a small, nearly imperceptible bit when you’re being evasive. Did you know that?”

“No. I’ve never dated a Lycian before.”

“Of course you haven’t. Also, we’re not dating. You’re my woman. What aren’t you saying? You’re standing here in our home talking about how I should know what I’m getting into. And believe me, beautiful, beautiful witch, I do. You’re troublesome. You have a special talent for attracting the sort of people who seem to want to blow you up or shoot you.”