"Nope," he said, "Just grab your picnic basket and come on inside."
Gus wasn't going to make her sit in his garage while he made grilled cheeses, and he'd made sure his place wasn't too bachelor-riffic before she'd come over. Lake Ridge wasn't the best part of town, and the rental home reflected that. It was essentially a brick shoebox with insulation. There was a small living area that fed into a kitchen, a postage stamp of a back yard, and a small hallway that ended in a bathroom. There was a bedroom as well, presumably, but that door was closed.
"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the couch, "I'll whip up some lunch," Gus grinned a little as he shrugged off his heavy coat, revealing a button up flannel underneath, "Crust or no crust?"
There wasn't much at all in the way of decoration. He had a TV, and there were a few car magazines on the battered looking coffee table, but the walls were more or less bare and the flat off-white paint most rentals sported. He'd at least laid some throw rugs down on the wood floors.