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It was definitely the kitchen that belonged to a chef.
Almost as if I’d conjured him, I saw a man standing there at the stove, mixing something in a pan while he spoke to Raff, who was perched on the counter a few feet away.
This must be Detroit. Who was, well, an absolute wall of a man. Tall, wide, and extremely fit with dark skin and chiseled bone structure.
“It’s okay,” Riff said, voice soft, as he reached back, gently touching my hip, guiding me out from behind his back.
I hadn’t even realized I’d stepped behind him.
“Do you want me to introduce you, or do you want to go right upstairs?”
I had to say hi, right? This was their home. I was a guest. It would be rude not to. Even if I just wanted to curl up in a bed until I felt truly ready.
“You can introduce us,” I said, proud of how sure my voice sounded even as my heartbeat started to hammer in my chest.
Riff moved forward with me at his side until we were a few feet from the island, still giving me plenty of space.
“Detroit, this is Vienna. Vienna, our resident master chef, Detroit.”
“Hey, honey,” Detroit said, giving me a soft smile and making no move toward me. “Who you got there?” he asked, looking toward my arms.
“Oh,” I said, eyes going wide. Did Riff not tell them about Vernon? Were they going to make him leave? If he left, I had to go with him.
“This is Vernon,” Riff said, reaching out to massage the cat’s head. “He’s considerably fonder of women than Cat,” he added, waving over toward where said cat had materialized out of nowhere to perch himself on the dining room table, tail swishing in a way that seemed menacing as he stared at me.
“The girls will like that. It still makes ‘em sad that Cat hates them.”
“Hi, Cat,” I said, taking a step closer to him, but moving right back away when he hissed.
“Should we introduce the boys?” Raff asked, looking between the cats.
“I think, maybe, we should wait until Vernon sees a vet?” I suggested. “Just in case. He was discarded at a rest stop,” I explained to Detroit.
“Probably a good idea,” Riff agreed. “We can try to get him an appointment this week. Want me to show you upstairs?” he asked, reaching for my bag he’d set down.
“Sure,” I said, nodding.
“Nice to meet you, Vienna,” Detroit called, already turning back to his food, unbothered by my standoffishness.
“You too,” I said, quickly following behind Riff as he led me around a wall, pointing out a bathroom, a staircase, and then ushering me into a freight elevator, pulling down a big door.
“You’re doing great,” Riff said, reaching out to give my wrist a little reassuring squeeze.
I thought I’d shrink away from the touch of any man after… well, everything. But something about Riff felt safe and comforting.
We made it to the second floor, and Riff led me over toward a slightly ajar door, pushing it fully open, and ushering me inside.
He was right.
The rooms were massive.
In fact, it might have been the size of my entire apartment in my hometown. But much less cluttered since it was only set up to be a bedroom.
There was a wall of those glass windows again, and two of the walls were the same exposed brick as the lower level. The other walls were normal walls, and painted a deep green that probably skewed almost black at night.
The bed was a king covered in bedding that was similar to the shade on the walls, with nightstands and lamps on each side, and was set up across from a TV almost as large as the one a floor below and hung over a long wooden dresser.
There was a door to the side of that. A closet, I imagined.
