“My mother said the same thing, but I don’t use these rooms, so there’s no rush.”
Questions filled Laurel’s mind. Where did he sit? Eat? Was she going to be sleeping on the floor tonight? Brett Matthews was becoming more of a mystery to her.
“Not every room is empty.” He led her down a wide hallway to an open-concept kitchen and family room. On the far side was an immense stone fireplace with built-in bookcases on either side.
“See”—he gestured to a big-screen television, a leather recliner, and a matching couch—“furniture.”
Bachelor furniture, he meant.
Dull, dark, and all-too male.
This place needed a female’s touch. A potted ficus would fit perfectly in the corner. The spot over the mantel needed a painting or portrait. A small table and lamp against the wall, framed photos and ot
