“I’m going to have to sleep on it,” Kaylee told Gloria.

“No problem,” Gloria said. “If you have the time, I’m expecting a couple more rentals to come available in a few weeks.”

Of course she didn’t have a few weeks. She really didn’t have a few days. It would probably be home to Newport or the surrounding area and this whole notion of a change of scenery would be out the door. Maybe she could make the nice little converted fishing cabin work, buried in the woods though it was.

From her car, sitting in front of the property manager’s office in Clear River, she texted Landry.

If the offer is still open, I’d love to see your house.

It took only a minute before she could see the moving dots indicating he was writing. He texted back the address and she told him she put it in her GPS and would see him within the hour.

It only took her about a half hour to drive from Clear River, on a winding road that climbed up the side of a hill. She saw the houses, a big one and a small one not terribly far away. There was a path between them and the distance was about that of a city block. She knew it would be the smaller, plus Landry was standing in front of it, raking a flower bed that bordered the front of the house. Not only was there a porch but also a porch swing and a couple of chairs. She couldn’t help it—she took a deep and hopeful breath.

She parked in front and got out of her car. Now that they were both standing, she realized how tall he was. He was about six feet to her five-foot-four. He had light brown hair to go with his blue eyes, paint splatters on his boots and jeans, tanned forearms and, she couldn’t help but notice, broad shoulders and big hands.

“Does the house come with a gardener?” she asked, giving him a smile.

“If you want,” he said. “I was just trying to clean it up a little to make a good impression. I take it the Realtor didn’t have any winners?”

“Well, there’s one I liked.”

“Good, then look at this one and see how it compares.”

“So, tell me about this house?”

“I had been living in the city—San Francisco—but it was crowded and expensive and my dad was here, so I came up to stay with him for a while. It wasn’t long before I decided this was a better place for me, but I wanted my own house and shop. We built this little house together. We did it in one summer and I finished the inside in the winter. It’s not very big. It was meant to be a small one-bedroom house with a kitchen and a large shop in back. I make things. Sculptures and pots and artsy-fartsy things. I meant for it to be more of a shop than a house, but you know how plans are. I’d been here a few years when my dad passed away. I moved into his house, knocked out a bedroom wall and recreated the shop in the back of his house.”

“My mom passed away,” she blurted out and immediately regretted it. It was a reflex, that’s all. It was her life now, after all. She felt defined by it.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

“Thank you. And I’m so sorry about your father.”

“Thanks. I fixed up this house so it could be used if anyone came to visit, like family or friends, and moved into my dad’s house. I moved everything from my shop into my dad’s house and restored the guest room in the smaller house, but I never furnished it. So, it’s still small, but...”

“You’re an artist?” she asked.

“I try,” he said. “I dabble in clay, ceramics, metal, glass. I think I’m more of a craftsman than artist, but sometimes I surprise myself with something I think could be considered art. And I build. When my work slows down or doesn’t sell, I work construction. I’m basically unemployed,” he added with an engaging grin.

“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.

“There’s a back door off the kitchen but not much of a back porch. There’s a path into the woods and a stream back there. Oh, and there’s bear repellent under the kitchen sink...”

“Bear repellent?” she nearly shrieked.

He laughed. “And you were worried about the dogs. By the way, I rarely get a dog who doesn’t play well with others. I mean, it has happened, but... Enough said, the dogs won’t be a problem for you.”

“What’s the rent on this house?” she asked, a little afraid of the answer.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve gotten five hundred before, but I’m willing to consider an offer. It’s been sitting empty for a while.”

Five hundred? she thought in shock. That wouldn’t get a one-bedroom and closet in Newport. In fact, she couldn’t rent a room in a house for that! “That sounds more than fair,” she said. Even without a fireplace it was so much bigger and nicer than the places the Realtor had shown her. Here, she could put her laptop on the dining table or sit in the living room with it on her knees. She might even get an outdoor chair with ottoman and do some work on the front porch. “You’re sure about the dogs? Because I don’t know anything about dogs except that they make me uncomfortable. I have friends who put their dogs outside or send them to bed when I visit...”

“It’s guaranteed. I could put it in the lease if you like. By the way, I didn’t hear how long you need a rental.”