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and hauled the bag toward the house as easily as carrying a lunch box. For a few stunned seconds, she watched his bicep muscles bunch beneath his snug shirtsleeve until he tipped open the screen door and disappeared inside. She shook her head, criticizing herself for getting worked up over a few silly muscles, and followed.
    An icy blast of air-conditioning frosted the bare skin on Bobbi’s arms, and she rubbed her hands together while her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. The clunk of Trey’s heavy work boots echoed up the steps, which seemed presumptuous at first, but as Luke’s best friend, it made sense that he’d know the way to the guest bedroom.
    The place still had that new house smell—paint, varnish, plaster—and two unpacked cardboard boxes in the foyer confirmed the newlyweds hadn’t quite settled in yet. But judging by the gleaming hardwood floors and meticulously aligned chair railing, Luke and Trey were skilled builders who’d put a lot of love into this home.
    June smoothed two fingers over the goose bumps puckering Bobbi’s arms. “Luke keeps it colder than a witch’s heart in here. It’s the only thing we fight about.” She leaned in and waggled her eyebrows. “Cover me while I go change the thermostat.”
    June dashed away, and a few moments later, Trey returned down the stairs. He motioned for Bobbi to join him, and when she did, he lowered his voice and said, “Top of the stairs, last door on the right. It’s the smallest room in the house, the paint’s the color of dried puke, and the sun’ll wake you up every morning at six, but it’s farthest from the master bedroom.” He pressed his lips to her ear, brushing her with his soft mouth as he whispered, “Trust me, that’s the one you want. This one time, I crashed upstairs…”
    Bobbi got chills on her chills. She pretended to listen as Trey told some story about having to spend the night here, but the tickle of his warm breath had switched her headlights to full-beams, and she had to sneak a peek at her blouse to make sure her bra was concealing the evidence. Thankfully, it was. She scratched her nose, figuring it had been way too long since she’d gotten lucky if a little whisper action affected her like this. Good thing she’d remembered to pack BOB, her Battery-Operated Boyfriend. With three speed settings and a seven-inch core of rotating ball bearings, she’d forget the caress of Trey’s lips and the heat of his breath in no time.
    “…screamed louder than a freight train.” Glancing over her shoulder, he clumsily changed the subject when Pru walked within earshot. “And that’s how I know a storm’s coming.”
    Right on cue, thunder boomed from outside and shook the walls. “Impressive,” Bobbi said, meeting his blue gaze. “Got any other magical powers?”
    A wicked grin curved his lips, and Bobbi warned, “Don’t answer that.” Eager to put some space between them, she hurried into the living room but stopped short, skidding to a halt before she’d fully crossed the threshold. “Oh my god,” she whispered in shock. “Mismatched furniture.”
    A plaid sofa in burgundy tones clashed with two easy chairs, one blue, one brown, while a distressed, white, shabby-chic coffee table displayed an assortment of remote controls on a silver tray like they were finger sandwiches instead of gadgets. She shut her eyes, but all she could see was that damned dollhouse.
    “They’re just starting out,” Trey said critically while brushing past her into the room. “So what if they can’t afford new furniture?”
    He didn’t understand, and Bobbi had no intention of explaining for his benefit. “They don’t have a one-armed doll lying around, do they?”
    Settling in the brown leather chair, Trey studied her in silence for a moment. “No, but they’ve got a three-legged cat.”
    Not an exact match, but close enough to make her feel like she’d stepped into the Twilight Zone . Wasn’t there an episode where someone