5
SADIE
“Living room, drawing room, kitchen’s in the back.” He waved an arm in the general direction of each of the rooms, but he was already halfway up the stairs so it wasn’t like I could take the place in. He also didn’t bother turning on any lights, so the faint glow of the television spilling out of the open doorframe to my left was the only thing to light my way.
At least I didn’t have to carry anything besides my weekender bag. He’d snatched my duffel bag out of my hand before I could stop him, and I’d left my suitcase in the car since I was only going to be here one night.
From what I could make out of this place, it did not gel at all with his personality. Or what I had seen so far of his personality anyway. I expected all gray, utilitarian coldness. Instead, there had definitely been a curio cabinet full of ceramic figurines by the front door and plastic over the armchairs in the room we just passed. A pair of crutches leaned against the wall near the base of the stairs. This place looked like it belonged to a little old lady who should be crocheting doilies, not a condescending jerk.
He’s a jerk who’s letting you stay in his house even though he clearly didn’t rent you a room,I reminded myself. Don’t judge.
He came to an abrupt stop on the steps in front of me and I almost face-planted into his back. I sucked in a surprised breath and got a lungful of a citrusy scent with a spicy edge to it.
He turned on the stair so he was halfway facing me. “Do you need something to eat?”
“Oh, uh…no. Thank you.” He was a jerk, but he didn’t have to let me stay here tonight and I didn’t want to push it. Of course, my stomach decided this would be the perfect time to expose me as a liar and growled loud enough to wake the dead.
He raised one eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
“I’m fine.”
“Suit yourself.” He turned back around, rounded the landing, and headed the rest of the way up the stairs.
I scurried to keep up.
“You can sleep in here.” He opened a door across from the top of the stairs. “I’m over there.” He pointed to a door down and across the hall. “Bathroom’s over there on the right.” He pointed to the opposite end of the hall. “I can start the fire in your room, if you want to take a hot shower and warm up before you go to bed.” He walked into the room and dropped my duffel bag on the four-poster bed.
I should’ve been grateful, but his sudden compassion put me on edge. And it must have read all over my face.
“Or just pass out. Whatever.” He flipped a switch next to the mantel and the gas fireplace roared to life.
This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous. “A shower sounds amazing. Thank you.”
He nodded. “Towels are under the sink. See you in the morning.” He disappeared before I could answer, pulling the door closed with a soft click behind him.
The absurdity of my situation sank in once I was alone. Staying in the house of a stranger who’d had no intention of renting me a room, in a town where I didn’t know anyone. Barely a dime to my name. It sounded like the beginning of either a great adventure or a horror movie, but I didn’t have the energy to predict which way things were going to go.
Rooting through my bag, I dug out my toothbrush and headed down the hall to the bathroom. My reflection was an atrocity. My hair was a wet rat’s nest and my makeup looked like I’d gotten drunk at a party then gone on a crying jag. Not sure I could blame him for turning me away the first time around.
Once I was in the shower, the hot water pounded down, washing away my anxious thoughts. I’d made it here in one piece. I had a place to lay my head tonight. I’d figure the rest out in the morning. That was how I’d been getting by for the last five years. One day at a time.
After a few minutes of letting the spray ease the tension in my shoulders, it dawned on me that I should’ve brought my toiletry bag with me and not just grabbed my toothbrush. But I was running on fumes and hadn’t thought it through. Thankfully, a wire basket hung from the showerhead. I snapped open the bottle of bergamot shower gel and sniffed it, then used it to wash up, including shampooing my hair with it. It would be a frizzy mess tomorrow but it was worth it. For a second, I considered stealing the gel. It smelled like him, and combined with the steam of the shower, made me a little intoxicated.
That was the exhaustion talking. I needed to stop acting like a creeper. I shoved the gel back in the caddy, rinsed off and grabbed a towel for my hair and another to wrap around myself. His towels were old, threadbare, and comically small. I cursed myself for not grabbing clothes to change into after my shower.
Popping the door open a crack, I glanced down the hallway. All clear. I clutched my toothbrush and discarded clothes under one arm and held the flimsy towel in place with the other.
I was barely through the door when he came out of the room directly across the hall—not the one he’d pointed out as his earlier—with wet hair, like he’d just showered too. He sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils as his eyes grazed me head to toe. Something I couldn’t identify flared in his arctic blue eyes.
Was he angry I’d used his shower gel? And whose room was that, if he was in the one on the other end of the hall? In a flash, it occurred to me we might not be the only ones here. Why did I assume he lived alone? Maybe he had roommates. Or a family he didn’t want to wake.
I inched closer and lowered my voice, casting a brief glance at the door behind him. “Who else lives here?”
His jaw ticked and I watched the strong column of his throat as he swallowed. My eyes dipped farther down to the deep line between his pecs, visible thanks to the threadbare white undershirt he wore. He was in green and black plaid flannel pajama pants and he had house slippers on again.
“No one else lives here,” he answered, his voice gravelly. “It’s just me.”
I was too tired to examine the relief his answer spurred. “Okay.” Why did I sound so breathy?
He cleared his throat and pushed past me. “See you in the morning.”
I stood rooted in place for a moment as I watched him slip into the room down the hall from mine. Finally, I broke my reverie and headed back to my room.
I put on my pajamas and got ready to climb into bed, but the sight on the nightstand stopped me. There was a protein bar, an apple, a single-serve bag of chips, a Gatorade, and a bottled water. A yellow Post-it on the nightstand read, If you change your mind.
I devoured the food and laid my head down, wondering exactly what had made him change his mind about letting me in.