I look back at Felix, see the concern and hope in his gaze, and realize one more thing. It isn’t only living here I wouldn’t mind. I think I’d very much like living with this man. “Yes. I do. It’s the best place I’ve ever been.”
FELIX
“You can have the bedroom tonight,” I tell Riley as we finish putting away the dishes.
“Oh, no.” She hands me the last dry plate. “I can’t take your bed.”
“You can. You will.” I put the plate away before pointing at my office. “I have a pullout sofa in there. I’ll sleep on it tonight.”
“I can take?—”
“No. That’s my office.”
“But—”
“Please. It gets cold up here and the warmest bed is mine because the back of the fireplace is one of the bedroom walls. I’d never sleep a wink knowing you might not be warm enough.” I want to explain why I can’t leave her in my office unattended but I’d rather not. Especially if she isn’t going to stay.
“Felix.”
“Riley.”
With a sigh, she lowers her head and stares at my socked feet. “I hate that I’m putting you out. You didn’t ask for me to be here.”
“I did. You might not be here for the reason I expected, but I’m not sorry you are.”
Her head pops up, her gaze meeting mine. “You’re not?”
“No. I like having someone else here, someone to talk to other than Neville.” I grin. “Look, I know neither of us is getting what we thought we would out of this arrangement, but it isn’t a bad thing, is it?”
Shaking her head, she asks, “Will you let me pay you back? For the food and the accommodation?”
“No. In the morning we’ll work out how I can help you get on your feet. I’ll call my uncle, see if he knows anyone looking for a housekeeper or whatever you’d like to do for a job. If you need to stay here for a while, we can make that work too.” I’ll sleep on the lumpy pullout for the rest of my life if she agrees to stay.
“You don’t know me, don’t owe me?—”
“No, I don’t. But I know what it’s like to feel trapped in a situation you have no idea how to get out of. I wish I’d had someone to help me. That’s why I’m going to help you.”
“I have no one. If I did I would have…”
“I figured as much.” I take a second to be sure I want to lead the conversation in a new direction. “Can I ask a question?”
“Of course.” Her smile is open, genuine.
“How old are you?”
Her pretty smile turns into a frown. “It wasn’t on my profile?”
“It was but I’m inclined to believe the only thing on your profile that wasn’t a lie was your picture and name. Unless Riley Rose isn’t your name either.”
“It is. I’m twenty. Twenty-one next month.”
“Five years younger than I thought.”
“He said I was twenty-five.” At my nod she returns my question, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“You said you’ve been here on your own for a decade, right?”
