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“I…uh…”
I mean, he’s hot and all—mega hot even. He’s been really nice helping me, too. Still, I live in a sketchy part of town. He’s wearing an extremely expensive suit. That doesn’t happen in this neighborhood unless it’s bad news.
“You’ll be safe with me, little one,” he murmurs.
“It’s just… I mean, I don’t even know your name. Stranger danger and all that,” I murmur.
“I’m Killian,” he says, and he smiles at me. For a minute, my brain freezes.
“I’m Belle,” I mutter, avoiding his eyes, not sure what I’m feeling.
His voice does weird things to me. The look in his eyes as he stares at me makes me nervous, too. I punch in the code and lead Killian up the stairs to the unit I share with my father. We’re on the third floor, and I probably should have warned him of that.
“I’m sorry,” I respond, glancing at him over my shoulder. “The elevator is broken.”
Killian’s looking around, but he doesn’t seem out of breath at all. He’s obviously in much better shape than I am, and I use these stairs all day long.
“How long has the elevator been broken?” he asks.
“I’m not sure. It was broken when we moved in.”
“How long have you lived here,” he asks just as I reach the top of the stairs.
I fumble around for my keys, breathing a sigh of relief when I find them. I open the door quickly, feeling guilty because this guy has carried two bags of heavy groceries—without the benefit of said bags—up two flights of stairs.
“Three years,” I respond without thinking. “Just set them down on the table, if you don’t mind,” I instruct as I practically jog to put my stuff on the stove, wanting to leave him all the room on the table to put his armful of crap on.
“I think after three years it’s not so much as broken as to never return again,” he murmurs, depositing the cans and things on the table.
“I’m sorry?” I murmur, completely lost—my brain leaving me as I look at the tall stranger once more, drinking in the sight of him.
“The elevator?” he says, an eyebrow going up in a perfect arch.
My face instantly heats as my brain comes out of la-la land to finally visit. “Oh, yeah. Probably. I’ve been saving money to move out. My father says wanting to move right now is foolish, though.”
“Your father?”
“Yeah, I share this place with him. He does say that if things go his way at work, we’ll be leaving soon. I’m hoping to convince him to move somewhere warmer.”
“You don’t like Boston?”
“I’m a Pisces,” I explain. I think that pretty much says it all, but apparently it doesn’t because the guy looks very confused.
“A Pisces?”
“Yeah. The sign? Astrology?”
“Oh…,” Killian says, and I think that means he finally understands, but he doesn’t look like he does—not really.
“Pisces is a fish sign. We love water. I’d love to live near the ocean or a lake. I figure with our income, the best I can hope for is a creek, and I’m fine with that. I just really want to smell the fresh water in the air kind of thing. I don’t even mind if it doesn’t have salt in it.”
“I see. What do you do?”
“I’m a hairdresser. I enjoy it. Someday I’m hoping to own my own salon, but that will be way in the future. It’s always good to have plans, goals really. It gives you something to work toward.”
“And your goal is to own a beauty salon?”
“Yeah. I mean, I think that’s realistic. I could say my goal is to be a billionaire one day, but I don’t think that is attainable, right?” I laugh.
“I see. Who is your father?” he asks, and I expected him to laugh with me, but he got rather serious. A little shiver moves through my spine, making me rub my arms in reaction.
“Who is my father?” I parrot, trying to stay focused on the conversation, but there’s a look on the man’s face that just keeps setting off alarm bells in my head.
His lips twitch, and he gets these little laugh lines in the corner of his eyes. “Yes. Who is your father?”
“Like his name?”
Those lines around his eyes deepen. “Like his name,” he repeats.
“D-Donovan?” I respond, but make it sound more like a question. I can’t get a read on this guy. One minute he seems nice and then the next I pick up a scary vibe off him. It’s hard to understand. I really wish I hadn’t had that second cup of coffee this morning. Too much caffeine makes me jumpy, and this guy manages to do that all on his own.
“Your father is Donovan Tate?” he asks, and I don’t think it’s my imagination that his entire body seems on high alert now. His laugh lines that I was admiring only moments before are totally gone now, and he seems to be on high alert.
