Beauty and the Brit by Lizbeth Selvig Read Free Book Online Page B

entryway. Three large oil paintings of horses caused Bonnie to squeal in delight yet again.
    Past a stairway with an open railing, the living room was comfortable and masculine in the same woods and greens. Deep-cushioned furniture, upholstered not in cliché leather but in a rich burgundy print, looked rich but inviting. Bamboo flooring glowed a burnished gold beneath thick area rugs.
    “Books and telly in here any time you like,” David said. “Kitchen’s this way.”
    At the kitchen doorway, Rio nearly lost her composure for the first time. She’d never seen the like, even in the diners where she’d worked. The expanse of granite countertop seemed big enough to land small aircraft. Stainless gleamed from the appliance surfaces, and a few dishes sat in the sink. When she caught sight of the shiny stove, tears filled her eyes. Her stacks of cookbooks, some from her grandmother, most discovered at garage sales or used bookshops, had been destroyed in the fire. Gone, like the Breyer horse . . .
    Mortified, she held back a ripple of nausea. She’d spent so much time trying to instill a philosophy of non-materialism to her siblings, and here she was mourning the loss of her things more than the loss of the house itself.
    “Here now.” David’s warm voice drew her away from the memory pit. “I’m sorry. Let’s skip this for now.”
    “No.” Rio squared her shoulders and stiffened, angry at her breakdown. “I’m just fine. Once in a while I just remember something we lost.”
    “What was it just then?”
    She stared into his cocoa-brown eyes and almost allowed herself to sink into their sincerity. She shook free of his spell. “Cookbooks,” she said shortly. “Nothing important.”
    Attractive creases formed between his thick brows. He thought a moment. “Is that what was piled on the range?”
    She shrugged. “They were all of them old and generic.”
    “But did you use them? You like to cook?”
    “She’s a great cook.” Bonnie had prowled through the room and returned, an eager puppy exploring a new world.
    “When I had time and money.” Rio tried to convey indifference. “I rarely had them both together.”
    “I think most of us can identify with that.”
    She knew he meant his quiet smile to show camaraderie, but irritation rolled over her, and her good intentions to stay calm and aloof dissipated. This man had no idea what it meant to run out of either commodity. If he could blithely clear his afternoon schedule of work and create a home that looked like this, he had nothing in common with her microscopic bank account or the forty-plus-hours-a-week job at Calvin’s Diner she’d just had to quit. She turned her back on David and Bonnie and gripped the handle of her donated suitcase.
    “Where do you want us to take our things?”
    “Right this way,” he said. “There’s a bathroom on this level through there.” He pointed to a hallway door on the other side of the living room. “It and my room and office are beyond.”
    He led them to the front staircase made of more burnished wood and studded with pristine white balusters. In spite of herself, Rio ran one hand along the polished railing as she climbed the steps, reveling. This was so different from the narrow, enclosed staircase in her old house, which had been scarred and painted and functional, period. She loved elegant staircases.
    “Now you’ll see how much there is left to do on the house,” David said, when they reached the hallway at the top. “Believe it or not, there are eight rooms up here, albeit small. One day I’d like to put in some skylights. Until then, this long hallway is dark and a bit dreary, I’m afraid.”
    True enough, the hall was windowless and held only doorways, but with light beige walls and pictures lining its length, it was hardly dreary.
    “Two bedrooms up here are finished. The others are still in original condition. There’s another bath. It’s ugly but clean.”
    His eyes apologized. Rio held