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She lifts her shoulders slightly. “I’m used to it,” she answers stiffly.
“Yeah, I see that.” I understand it better than she probably thinks.
I curl my arms around her but her posture’s still rigid. “Will you finish the tour for me?” I gesture toward her laptop and camera. “You’ll have to explain the vlogging thing to me later. When you’ve got a few spare hours.”
She giggles and leans her forehead against my chest. “It’s not that complicated.” She curls her fingers around mine and leads me into the hallway.
Her bedroom’s similar to the rest of the place. Soft gray, pink, blue, and mint-green hues. Lots of fluffy, candy-colored pillows scattered over her bed. Feminine. Soft. Pretty. Like her.
A curious sort of jealousy rakes over me. Has she had any other men in that bed? “So, you’ve never had any roommates here?”
Her brow wrinkles. “Here? No. I mean, my friend Amanda crashes here sometimes—” She stops and tilts her head. “What are you asking?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t seem like a safe building, that’s all.”
Indignation flares in her eyes and she opens her mouth, probably to protest.
“Downstairs door was open. Looks like it’s broken,” I say before she has a chance to argue.
Her shoulders relax and she nods. “Yeah, it’s been that way for a while.”
I follow her back to the living room. Two-bedroom or not, it’s actually a small space. The kitchen’s off to the side, only distinguished by a strip of cheap metal to transition between the hardwood floor of the living room and the aging linoleum in the kitchen.
“I should’ve asked, do you want something to drink?” she calls out.
“No, thanks.” I wander into the kitchen. Small fridge, one counter, stove, and a double sink, although one side’s taken up by a rack with one plate, one glass, a coffee cup, and one set of utensils. A small square table with two chairs takes up the extra space. One of the chairs is piled high with laundry she hasn’t folded yet. Not only does she live alone, but it looks like she wants to keep it that way.
For some reason, she’s decided to let me in. Bit by bit.
And I intend to stay.
Serena
I love my apartment.
Sure, it’s in a seedy part of the city. It’s small and outdated. But it’s mine. No roommates to annoy and endanger me. No one to haggle with over the bills.
With the windows shut, some aromatherapy candles burning, and a few fans running for white noise, it turns into my peaceful little sanctuary.
Now, anxiety simmers inside me. Having Grayson examine my home twists my stomach into knots. It almost feels too intimate and familiar. But at the same time, it’s nice to let someone in who genuinely seems to care.
At the door to my apartment, he studies the locks. “Would you be offended if I reinforced these?” He pulls at the doorknob, jiggles it around, and studies the slot for the deadbolt.
“I…I’d have to get my landlord’s permission, I think.”
“Seriously? Ain’t too concerned about that front door. Doubt he’ll notice a few new locks.”
“A few, huh?”
He knocks his knuckles against the area around the doorknob. “Like to reinforce this, too, if not change the whole door out.”
I stare at him, completely baffled. “My. Whole. Door?”
“All the locks in the world won’t do much good if a ten-year-old can kick it open by hitting a weak spot.”
“I’m going to have nightmares now.”
His hard expression softens, and he reaches for me. “Sorry. I’m not trying to scare you.” He hesitates and glances away. “Don’t forget, I just spent fifteen years socializing with the worst of society. I know all too well how they think. How they choose the people they prey upon. That’s all.”
I’m overcome with the urge to hug him. I slide my arms around his waist and squeeze. His clean, crisp scent wraps around me, adding another layer of affection to all the things I already feel for him. He returns the embrace and kisses the top of my head.
“What’s this for, buttercup?” he murmurs.
“I hate thinking of you surrounded by so many bad people.”
He hugs me a little tighter. “I never said I was a good guy.”
That’s true. He didn’t. I’ve never even asked what he went to prison for. Honestly, I don’t want to know. The only thing that matters is how he treats me today, not who he was fifteen years ago.
“I think you’re a good man,” I whisper.
“That’s all I care about.” He pulls away slowly. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon.”
Damn. I can’t let Emily down. I nod to the door. “You can examine it later.”
“Later, huh?” His lips curve into a teasing smile.
“Yes, later.” I laugh and slip my arm through his.
“Thought we’d stop by my place after the play. It’s not far. If that’s all right with you?” he asks.
