Capturing the Young Doctor's Heart: Mr. Big Shot Won't Let Me Go-Chapter 174: Neither Warm Nor Cold

Returning to Sinclair Apothecary, Claire Prescott checked her appearance in the mirror once more. Satisfied, she then got out of the car.

She headed straight for the side door and was about to push it open when Keane Lowell stopped her.

"Wait for me a moment."

Claire turned to look at him, her expression still indifferent, watching as he took two items from the trunk.

The gifts were wrapped exquisitely and felt substantial, indicating they must be expensive.

As he closed the trunk and walked up to her, Claire couldn’t help but ask, "What are these?"

"A tea set and a painting."

Hearing this, Claire didn’t say anything more. She chose the painting to help him carry, and they opened the door and entered the courtyard together.

This was the first time Keane saw where she lived.

The yard wasn’t large; fruit trees surrounded it, shards of glass lined the short walls, smoke rose faintly from the chimney, and sunlight gently climbed onto the roof.

Though simple, it exuded a strong sense of life.

The household items were organized neatly, appearing orderly.

Once inside, Claire cleared her throat and called out, "Grandma, I’m back."

Hearing her voice.

Septima came out from the kitchen and immediately noticed the man her granddaughter had brought back, quickly giving him a once-over from head to toe.

Keane respectfully greeted her, "Grandma."

Septima enthusiastically began, "You’re Keane, Claire’s boyfriend, right?"

"Yes."

Septima beamed, her gaze sweeping back and forth between the couple. The more she looked, the more delightful they seemed, and the more she felt they were a good match.

Seeing Keane put down the gifts, she quickly came back to her senses, chiding lightly, "Such a kid, bringing gifts when coming for a meal."

"It’s just a small token from me."

"From now on, no need to bring gifts when you come home. We don’t care about those—just having you here is enough." With that, Septima instructed her granddaughter to entertain the guest while she busied herself back in the kitchen.

The entire living room was left with just the two of them.

Claire then prepared some fruits, taking them to the courtyard and personally brewing tea for him, quietly tending to him.

Keane sat beside her, watching her expression the whole time, finally initiating a conversation, "Living here seems comfortable; your commute must be less than a minute."

"You could open a company at home too to cut down your commute."

"I can’t do that—I’m not as proficient as you and Elder Sinclair."

Keane took the tea she handed over, his fingers deliberately or unintentionally brushing against her skin with an intimate caress.

Claire glanced at him. Realizing his thoughts, she gently reminded him, "Mind the occasion."

"It’s just the two of us here."

"Not really."

Keane was puzzled.

Claire continued, "It’s not just us—don’t corrupt the little bird."

Upon hearing this.

Keane’s gaze swept around and finally noticed the parrot quietly perched in a cage on the beam, looking at him observantly.

Then.

A clear, childish voice echoed from its mouth.

"Sleazy hands, sleazy hands."

Both their faces turned dark simultaneously.

Claire abruptly stood up, and when Little Seven noticed her angry gaze, it panicked and fluttered around, making the entire cage shake.

"Who taught you that?"

Little Seven gradually calmed down, seemingly uncertain whether it heard or not, falling into silence.

Claire scolded it, "You’re not allowed to say that word anymore. Do you hear me?"

Little Seven replied emotionlessly, "Heard."

Seeing it behave, Claire let it be and sat back on her stool. But inadvertently catching a glimpse of Keane’s expression, she couldn’t help but curl her lips into a smile.

Unable to hold back the smile, she simply said with a laugh, "The bird is naïve; it repeats whatever it hears. But I promise no one in my family taught it that—probably learned it on its own when my grandmother took it out to play."

Knowing she was teasing him, Keane had no solution for her or the parrot, so he just took a sip of the tea she brewed, maintaining his calm, composed demeanor.

At this moment, he asked, "Can I see your room?"

Claire replied calmly, "There’s nothing much to see in my room."

Despite saying this, her body involuntarily stood up. Her expression stiffened a little as she told him, "It’s on the second floor."

Having said that, she led the way.

Keane followed her upstairs, and upon entering her room, he instinctively closed the door.

Claire was about to pull aside the curtains on the desk when, as she raised her hand, the man pressed his chest against her back, gently and cautiously wrapping his arms around her waist.

Almost instinctively.

Claire raised her hand and neatly drew the curtains shut.

The light, white curtains cast a pale, soft glow, illuminating the intertwined figures, swaying romantically.