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“Yes. I only have two.”
“Is one of them that you have to walk around without a shirt on?” Please let that be a rule…
“We could make it a rule if you want… but you’d have to comply, too.” And his eyes make their way down my body for a fleeting second before he turns away, digging through the fridge. Almost like he didn’t mean to say it. Like he caught himself.
“Should I get out my maid outfit while I’m at it?” It comes out harsher than I meant. I shouldn’t be so snippy, but if he wants to play that game…
“No. Sorry. That all came out wrong.”
Why am I disappointed that he backed down from flirting?
“You don’t have to clean the place or work to stay here.” Looks like the quippy back and forth is done. Back to stern and serious Sergeant. Gavin. “Just two things. Don’t go into my room. Don’t go into my office in the garage.”
I start to salute in response but think better of it. That’s definitely something my new friend Ora would do, but I don’t want to antagonize him. Especially when he looks ready to keel over from exhaustion.
Added to the fact that I really don’t know him well enough to be making crass jokes and poking fun at him. I need his help and I need to mind my manners.
Even if I can’t stop thinking about him in that towel…
Get your mind out of the gutter, Hellena!
The last two days have me acting like someone else. Someone who desperately needs to get laid.
Then it clicks, what he just said. “Wait. So, I can stay here? After tonight?”
“Guess I just made up my mind. At least until you find somewhere safe to go or get this crap worked out. I owe Damon that much.” There’s a coldness in the way he says it, resolved and a little sad.
Note to self. Don’t bring up Dad too often.
So much for learning more about my father.
But I am relieved to know I can stay. “I promise, I’ll stay out of your way while I work to get the money together.”
“Make yourself at home. Just?—”
“Stay out of your rooms. Got it.” Even if the second I say it makes me feel unbearably curious as to what he’s hiding. The clues I have so far tell me I am better off not knowing what Gavin does. Blood stains, a leather apron, and a gear bag that stinks of bleach.
It all rings a little too close to home, my old home. Marco had a guy like that, if I’m anywhere close to the mark.
We wind down pretty quickly after he throws together a couple of barbecue sandwiches, the two of us eating in silence at the kitchen table. Strangely enough, it’s not awkward. It’s companionable, like we can both see how worn thin the other is and just having someone there is enough.
At least for me.
For Gavin, it looks a lot more like a soldier, eating his rations with a far-off look in his eyes.
Maybe that’s why I feel so safe as I fall asleep a little while later, snuggled in fresh sheets and a surprisingly fluffy comforter.
The sun is just clipping through the living room window when I hear him in the kitchen, followed by the irresistible smells of bacon and coffee. It’s way too early. Should have expected that from his military background.
Dragging myself up, I notice the effects of a night in jail and the lack of sleep. My whole body is stiff, achy.
Still, the bed was comfy. And I’ve got a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it, so it’s going to be early days and late nights for me until this is over.
“Morning.”
“Mm.” It’s all I manage as I slide into a chair with my blanket wrapped around my shoulders. He snorts a little laugh as he sets down a steaming cup in front of me.
“Spare bedroom has a full bath. Help yourself.” his eyes drift to my hair, which I’m certain looks like a tumbleweed.
