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“You need to eat something that isn’t junk food,” he mutters, walking to the door and leaving it open as he steps out.
When he walks back in a minute later, he places one of the oranges and the banana on the dresser. I expect him to hand me the other orange, but instead, he begins to peel it, making a perfect spiral with the bright-colored rind.
“Thank you.” I take it when he hands it to me, then watch him walk to my bathroom, and hearing something hit the empty trash can, and the water turn on.
“Where is your cell?” he asks, strolling back out.
“In my bag. You can grab it,” I answer and motion to my purse on the bed instead of asking him why he always ignores me when I say “Thank you.” I shove a chunk of orange into my mouth and chew while he grabs my bag, opens it, and takes out my phone.
“You don’t have a lock code on it?” He frowns, bringing the screen to life.
“No,” I mumble with my mouth full. He shakes his head, doing something on my device, then I watch him take out his phone when it starts to ring. I study him and his tattooed hands as he ducks his head and types on my cell, then switches to his, totally focused like he was at the bar earlier.
“Now you have my number, and I have yours.” He rests my cell on the dresser and meets my gaze. “I also sent you the two real estate agents I found. You can call them tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
He jerks his chin up as he looks at my empty hand. “Do you want another orange?”
“I’m okay.”
“The banana, then.” He doesn’t give me a choice. He picks it up and quickly pulls the skin back before holding it out to me. I thank him again over a yawn I can’t hold back, and his face softens. “You need to get some sleep.”
“I plan on it after I shower.” I stand while his eyes wander over my face, and I see his hand come up slightly before he nods and tucks it into the pocket of his shorts.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He starts to turn toward the door.
“Will you?” I ask, and he stops to look at me, a frown marring his handsome face. “You’re not going home?” I clarify.
“Not yet.” Relief—an overwhelming amount of it—washes over me.
I follow him to the door and stand back as he opens it. When he’s outside, I grab the handle and lean out slightly to watch him go to his door.
“Night, Roman.”
“Night, Elora,” he says quietly, then lets himself into his room.
Shutting my door, I lock it, then look down at the banana I didn’t want but will now have to eat because I hate wasting food.
And feel a smile creeping up on me.
7
ELORA
45°52′55″N 123°57′34″W
“Oh girl, you’re in trouble,” I whisper, then frown over the top of the book I’ve been reading when there is a knock on my door. Not once has anyone ever knocked on my door in the five months I’ve been here. When there is another three light raps, I set my book aside and toss back my blanket.
I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I decided to read, and I just got to a good part in the fantasy romance I picked up at the store. I wasn’t sure I would enjoy the story of a human girl who got sucked into the Fae Realm through a magical mirror, but then I met the hero and couldn’t put the book down. And just now, he saved the human girl from some monster after she ran from him, and I really want to know how she feels about him now. Because two chapters ago, she hated his guts.
Walking to the door, I open it just a crack, expecting to see a stranger possibly mistaking my room for theirs. Instead, I find Roman standing outside, dressed in shorts and a tee with his hair damp, holding a plastic bag filled with food containers in one hand and a cup carrier in the other. The smell of bacon, syrup, and fresh coffee wafts toward me, and without waiting for me to invite him in, he pushes between me and my door to come into my room.
“I brought breakfast,” he announces, walking toward my bed.
Staring at his back, I watch him begin to unpack things from the bag.
Turning to look at me, he drops his eyes to my bare legs, then glances at the door. “You wanna shut that?”
