I want to object. There’s something at the edge of my brain that is scratching to get out. Before I can think of it, the directions have Brandon turning down my street.
As he shifts into park in my driveway, I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the car door. “Well, thanks for the ... wait, how are you getting home?”
“Someone’ll pick me up tomorrow before workout.”
I whip off my sunglasses only to put them back on. Damn, that streetlight is bright. “Excuse me? You’re not staying here.”
He reaches in the back and grabs my clothes.Brandon Nix is touching my underwear again.
“I am, because I know damn well those discharge instructions say to be supervised.”
He’s not wrong.
“Unless you can tell me who’s going to check on you all night, let’s go inside, lest we’re spotted. Again.”
The only thing that’s worse than hating this man because he’s so wrong is hating him because he’s right.
Chapter 25: Brandon
Idon’t know what Iexpected Andi Nichols’s place to look like, but this isn’t it. She lives on the ground floor of a multi-family house that’s nothing to look at. Some might even call it an eyesore. It’s not that it’s unkempt or run down. It’s probably been renovated in recent history. It’s just ... something’s missing.
“This place doesn’t have enough windows on the front side. It looks off balance or something.” I stare up, trying to figure out why it looks so unattractive.
“Maybe you have too many windows.”
That’s a weak argument, but she does have a brain injury, so I’ll let it slide this time. “I have the right number of windows. Which door is yours?”
“I’m on the left. I don’t care about the outside. I don’t spend any time out there. What’s important is that this condo is super expensive, and I have virtually no room.”
I think she made a joke.
“At least you have off-street parking,” I offer.
She smiles. “That was a big seller, though I sort of wish for a garage during the winter.” She puts the key in the lock and pushes the door open. “And I’m not going to lie, now I totally want an ice bath.”
The place is sparkling clean and has obviously been refinished this century. It doesn’t even look like someone lives here. It’s narrow, half the width of the house. You can see straight to the back where the kitchen is. The floors are shiny oak, and the rest of the place is white. White walls. White cabinets. What’s not white is gray. Gray appliances. Gray furniture. The bare minimum of everything. There are no rugs. No toss pillows. One lone blanket covers the back of the couch. It looks like the same decor you’d find in a hotel room. It is totally devoid of personality.
