I don’t turn back to the computer until he’s safely out of the room.
“Okay, spill,” Jess demands. Her eyes are alight, her curiosity at peak level. Even Sasha, who is normally more respectful of everyone’s privacy is holding her mug close like it’s hot cocoa and this is story time.
“There’s nothing to spill,” I tell them, wincing internally. I had never been a very good liar and these two were the best at spotting what I tried to hide. But Caleb and I have made things very clear. Things between us are casual and temporary. And given how private Caleb is about his life, I can’t imagine he’d appreciate me spilling all the details to my friends back home.
“Oh, please,” Jess rolls her eyes. “If that was the Caleb Walker you mentioned in your emails and you’re telling me you’ve been living with those shoulders for the last month… I don’t believe there isn’t gossip to spill. If you haven’t tried to get with that, Liz, I need to tell Nana Kim to start praying for you at temple.”
“Oh really? You’re going to tell Nana Kim to pray for my sex life?” I challenge, trying to change the subject. Nana Kim is a first-generation Korean immigrant, ninety-four years old, and die-hard Kurt Russell fan.
“Maybe not in so many words but if that’s the local talent you should definitely be—ow! Hey, watch the cup!”
Sasha had nudged Jess.
“Quit it, Jess. If she doesn’t want to tell us, she doesn’t have to.”
“Right. Thank you, Sasha,” I breathe a sigh of relief. “And like I said, there’s nothing to tell. He’s just my landlord. Nothing more. And he won’t even be that soon enough, now that the house is coming together.”
“You need to show us when you have more time!” Sasha insists. “Promise us.”
“Oh, absolutely! I need to show you the size of the walls.”
“The walls?” Sasha’s innocence amuses me.
Jess is quicker. “So she can commission some personal pieces by New York’s up and coming star,” she explains.
I’m grinning as Sasha flushes pink again.
“Exactly,” I agree. “And if I had more time, I would spend the next three hours telling you how proud I am of you.”
As it is, a gift box from Sasha’s favorite artisan store would have to do.
As soon as I bid goodbye to the girls, I’m onto their online store and ordering a set of Sasha’s favorite oil paints. The ones she only splashes out on when she has a big-dollar client in the works. Typing in my personalized message and hitting checkout to Sasha’s address is the work of a minute. Which, ironically, makes me feel like a lazy friend.
I should be there. Going out for drinks with the girls and playing shield for Sasha as Jess inevitably tries to convince her to chat up some hottie at the bar. Instead, I’m miles away. In the woods.
“Ready to go?”
I look up from the laptop in a daze, surprised to see Caleb back in the doorway. Clearly, I’d spaced out for longer than I’d thought.
“Sure, let’s go.”
The idea of a movie night is looking better and better. A full stomach and a pretty distraction are in dire need.
The journey back to Caleb’s is oddly quiet. I glance at him a few times as we ride along, surprised at the stiff way he holds onto the wheel.
“You sure you’re okay?” I ask for the third time since leaving the house. We’ve pulled up outside Caleb’s place and he’s putting the truck into park with a tense jerk of the stick.
“Just peachy.”
Okay, if a wild mountain man like Caleb Walker using the word ‘peachy’ isn’t an ominous sign, I don’t know what is. But, right now, he doesn’t want to talk about whatever bee has gotten into his bonnet. So, I decide I’m better off leaving it alone. At least for now.
And that meant heat on my aching muscles and painkillers for the headache coming on behind my eyes.
“You mind if I hit the shower first?” I ask, hopping out of the cab. As I tug my rucksack from the back, Caleb just shakes his head and I have to bite my tongue.
Don’t ask, I remind myself. Not now.
Wait until I’m a little less emotional and don’t smell predominantly of axle grease.