Page 55 of Fragile Sanctuary

The appalled look morphed into one of understanding. “I like her.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual, but watch yourself. She wants your mouth busy doing things other than talking.”

An expression of true fear swept over Anson’s face, and I couldn’t help laughing again. He shuddered. “She’s also terrifying.”

“A healthy fear of Lolli is smart.”

Anson merely grunted in agreement.

“Give me a sec. I’ll get you those clothes.” I headed for the hallway linen closet where Shep had stored a few pairs of shorts and tees. Grabbing one of each, I headed back to the living room and kitchen.

Anson studied everything around him, taking in every detail, and spoke without looking up. “It’s not you.”

My brows pulled together. “What do you mean?”

He slowly turned to face me. “The space. No explosions of color. No plants. No…you.”

I swallowed hard. If I’d thought Trace was good at seeing the details, he had nothing on Anson. “I’m still getting settled.”

He stared hard at me as I handed him the clothes. His gaze calledbullshit, and I fought the blush wanting to rise to my cheeks.

I cleared my throat. “There’s a bathroom in the hall. I’m going to get changed in my room.”

I spun around, hurrying ahead of him so I didn’t have to look at those blue-gray eyes that asked so many questions. Biscuit followed closely behind me. Shutting the door, I hurried to pull off my soaked clothes and went in search of fresh ones.

But as I did, I couldn’t help but study my bedroom. It was the same setup I’d had for the past five years. Pale green duvet cover, a throw over the end of the bed. Nightstands I’d gotten on sale at a local furniture store that matched the dresser I pulled sweats and a tank out of.

Anson was right. None of this was especially me. Not even the print on the wall. It was pretty, a black-and-white photo of a lily. But it had no soul. Why would it when it was something I’d grabbed off a wall at Target, where it hung with countless others?

When I thought about changing it up, about making it mine, my heart started beating faster, and my breaths came quicker. My palms dampened as my stomach twisted. I closed my eyes.

In. Two. Three.

Out. Two. Three.

I repeated the process over and over until it felt like I had my body more under control.

What the hell was that?

The beginnings of a panic attack. Overthinking decorating a space in a way that fit me? That was ridiculous.

I hurried to pull on the soft sweats and simple tank, then tugged on my favorite fuzzy socks. I gave Biscuit a little scratch before heading down the hall. Part of me expected Anson to be long gone; instead, he was hovering in my kitchen.

“You’re nosy, you know that, right?” I said.

He glanced in my direction, arching a brow.

“First, you analyze my living room, and now you’re poking around my kitchen.”

Anson shrugged, the action pulling the T-shirt taut across his broad chest. His feet were bare, and something about that was sexier than it should’ve been.Did I have a foot fetish now?

He lifted a copy ofThe Little Princess. “Reader?”

“One of my favorites.”

Anson nodded slowly, fingering the bookmark made of pressed flowers. “You’re almost done.”

I moved deeper into the kitchen and toward the Crock-Pot I’d set to cooking before I went outside. “Finished this morning before work.”

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