Self-consciously, I reach up to comb my fingers through my hair. “Do you want to come up for a coffee?”
His eyes snap up. “Yeah?” He clears his throat into his fist. “Yes. If you’re sure it won’t be a hassle.”
“Not at all. I’d love some company.”
Sawyer follows me up the stairs. I gingerly step around the rotten planks of wood and grimace with every groan from the timber under my feet. One day, a tread is going to snap, and I’ll plummet to the dusty cement below. I’m certain of it.
At the top, I ignore the door and cross the landing. I jiggle the window until it pops open.
“Elsie?” Sawyer’s voice is uncertain behind me.
I toss my bag through the gap. It lands with a thud on the carpet inside. “I’ve got door issues.”
His gaze flicks to the weathered red paint. “Stuck?”
“It’s decided not to unlock from the outside today.”
“Broken?”
I shrug. “Probably.” What do I know about the mechanics of doors? About as much as I understand about the mechanics of anything. Which is nothing. “Everything here is a little…worn out.”
He frowns. “A bit like the stairs, I guess.”
“They’re only dangerous if you almost fall to your death.” I grin. “Just… Wait there. This won’t take long.”
I cinch my towel extra tight under my armpits, take a deep breath, and start the awkward process of shimmying through thewindow. Everything’s usually fine until I get to my hips. I should cut down on the breakfast croissants.
I hit the bedroom carpet with an ungraceful thud.
“Elsie? You okay?”
I scramble to my feet and stick my hand out the window. Sawyer gets a thumbs-up. Then, I race around the bedroom, piling my hair on top of my head in a messy bun. My towel drops to the floor, but my swimsuit refuses to budge. The fabric is still damp, and I end up bouncing on the spot trying to strip it down my legs. Panties pull up. A bra clips on. A cotton dress slips over the top of my underwear, and I pop on the last daisy button just before I yank open the front door.
I’m greeted by Sawyer’s frown.
Breathless, I try to play down the awkwardness of this whole situation. “Ta da!” The door is so temperamental that opening itissomething to celebrate.
Sawyer smiles, but his frown is firmly back in place as soon as he steps inside.
His fingertips brush over a loose curl of wallpaper as he passes. “I didn’t realize Cain left this place in such a bad way.” His frown only deepens when he glances up. The light shade above him clings to the ceiling for dear life with a single rusted screw. “I’ll have a word with him.”
“No!” My budget is balanced on a knife-edge. “He’ll put the rent up—”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t. We can’t have you livin’ like this.” Sawyer pauses in the kitchen doorway. A faint smile tugs at his lips as he catches sight of the ocean out the front window. “There always was a nice view up here, though.”
“It’s better than I ever dreamed I could afford.” I flip the switch for the coffeemaker, and the first slow drops splash into the glass pot.
I offer Sawyer a chair, but he shakes his head. He’s content to hover beside me at the kitchen counter as I pull the cups from the overhead cabinet and search the pantry for some biscuits. I don’t mind that he takes up so much space…or that he doesn’t say much. The anxious knot in my stomach untangles when he’s around. I can breathe.
Sawyer’s fingers skim the pile of books stacked on the wooden countertop. “The Age of Revolution: Europe 1789-1848,” he reads out loud. “A bit of light readin’?” He smirks.
“I picked up some books from the library. The one here in town doesn’t have the biggest history collection, but there were a few gems.”
“You like non-fiction?”
“I like all books. What about you?”
“Can’t say I do much readin’.”
