Set Loose by Isabel Morin

amounts of land surrounding them and ensuring privacy.
    She parked her car in front of his house, a hacienda style a little bigger than your average ranch house. Rock gardens took up most of the front yard, with tall grasses filling the places in between. A paved walkway led from the driveway to the front entrance.
    Cutter opened the door before she even had a chance to knock. He smiled at her, beamed really, and instantly her nervousness evaporated, replaced by pure joy. In deference to the heat he wore olive green cargo shorts and a red t-shirt. How in the world was she going to make it through dinner like a civilized person without jumping his bones?
    He stepped aside to let her in, taking the wine from her before pulling her to him for a deep, knee-weakening kiss that left her breathless.
    “You look amazing. If it wasn’t for the fact that I have food cooking, I would drag your gorgeous bod straight to my bed,” he said, looking at her like he might devour her anyway.
    She stepped away from him. “We can do this. We’re adults, right? Besides, I’m starving and whatever it is you’re cooking smells amazing.”
    Cutter acceded to her wishes, though his gaze raked her approvingly, looking at her as if drinking her in. When they finally made it to the bed, it would definitely be worth the wait. But she’d been looking forward to having something resembling a normal date. As much fun as it was to eye each other all night at the club and then tear each other’s clothes off back in her room, she was looking forward to talking.
    “I’ll give you the grand tour first,” he said, leading her down a short hallway into the kitchen.
    It was spacious and sunny with tiled floors, high ceilings, and a large island in the middle. It opened into a dining area and generous living room. Southwestern style rugs in earth tones covered the floors and red-hued clay vases and jugs sat on tables here and there. Most striking were a series of framed black and white photographs of kids playing kickball, men and women smoking cigarettes outside a run-down house as the sun set behind them.
    “I took those,” he said, nodding toward the photos.
    “They’re beautiful. Is that where you lived with your mother?”
    “Most of them were taken on the reservation near Carson City, where I grew up. A couple were taken on a Washoe rez in California where a few cousins live. I was really into photography for a while in my twenties, but I haven’t done much in the last few years.”
    He had a good eye and the photos seemed to be looking its the subjects with affection, but there was no mistaking the underlying poverty in the surroundings. It was her first bit of insight into where he came from, but now wasn’t the time to grill him on his childhood.
    “This place is gorgeous, Cutter. You’ve really done something amazing here.”
    “I spent about a year’s worth of weekends building it, but it was worth it.”
    “You built this yourself?” she asked, floored by the idea. Imagine creating something as concrete as a house. Dance was so ephemeral, with nothing but the memory to show for it in the end.
    “It was kind of a dream I had for a while. I figured if I was building houses for complete strangers, I ought to do it for myself.”
    “It’s bigger than I was expecting for a bachelor’s lair,” she said, peering into one of three bedrooms at the back of the house. Like many houses in the area, this one spread out on one floor in deference to the heat.
    He shrugged a shoulder. “I decided if I was going to do it, I’d make sure it was one I’d want to live in for the duration. Who knows? There may be more than just me one day,” he said.
    He looked away, as if he’d revealed too much.
    “You did a beautiful job,” she replied softly, touched at the thought of him creating a home for some future family.
    A hollow seemed to open in her chest that it wouldn’t be her, couldn’t be her. She’d be long gone, barely a memory by