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“If he ever tries anything like that when I’m with you…”
My heartbeat quickens, at his words, but I caution myself, remembering that he’s just being nice.
But surely this is more than nice?
“What?” I whisper.
“It won’t end well for him,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Why?”
He grins, a glint in his eyes. “I’ll make him sorry he ever hurt you. Let’s just leave it at that.”
I nod, accepting his answer. But that wasn’t what I meant when I asked why.
What I meant was… why is he doing this for me? Why does he care so much?
“At least he doesn’t know where you live now. I’ve got a few questions I need you to answer too, about Declan, his previous addresses and employment history, anything you can think of to help track down the right Declan Phelps.”
“Okay, that’s fine. And then what?”
“Then we do some digging, see if there’s a way to make him back off. But you don’t have to worry about that right now. You’ve got a good evening ahead of you, pizza and a movie with your friend. Let the future take care of itself for a little while.”
“And tomorrow, you’re going to tear my essay to pieces, right?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Not even close. I loved it.”
“Really?”
He smirks, or maybe it’s a smile or an in-between. It’s difficult to tell with his shifting features. “Really. Now try and relax.”
I sit back, letting my forehead rest against the window, watching the city as it glides by. Paula’s going to freak when I tell her about this.
Paula stands at the wide window of the living room, looking down on the city. I stand in the middle of the living room, with the expensive-looking curtains in view, the shiny curtain rail, the plush rugs, and the leather couch.
There are art prints all over the walls, and the TV is four times the size of mine at home.
She spins to me. “So this place is yours?”
“For the time being, until we figure out how to handle Declan.”
Paula runs a hand through her blonde ponytail, a habit she’s had ever since we were kids, telling me she’s struggling to process all of this.
“What?” I ask.
She blows out a breath. “You went to meet him to discuss your essay, and now he’s moved you into his second apartment and he’s going to help get Declan off your back.”
“Yeah…”
She waves her hands. “Autumn, please tell me you see this.”
“See what?”
Walking across the apartment, she places her hands on my shoulders and stares firmly into my eyes. “He likes you.”
“No.”
I laugh, shaking my head as I turn away. I can’t look at her as she tells me this because if I do I might be tempted to believe her. Maybe then I won’t be able to stop these feelings from bubbling up inside of me, the shivering in my womb, the tantalizing whispers at the edge of my mind telling me he’s going to be mine, and I’m going to be his.
She nods fiercely, squeezing my shoulders. “Men don’t just do stuff like this, Autumn—”
“Declan did.”
She frowns. “Is that what you think this is, another Declan situation?”
“No, no, I don’t.” The words come out in a rush. The idea of Asher and Declan being even remotely comparable is ludicrous to me. “He’s not like Declan at all.”
“Plus, it’s not like this is his apartment. I mean, he’s not living here. You have your privacy,” she says.
“Yeah, exactly. And I haven’t given up on my other place. This is only temporary.”
“But still…” She looks around the living room, the tall ceilings, and the light fixtures lighting up everything with a warm yellow glow. “He could rent this place out. He could hurry up the sale. There are lots of things he could’ve done, but instead, he chose to offer it to you.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he likes me.”
We sit on the couch together, staring at our reflections on the TV. I’ve changed into my PJs, baggy with a hole in the leg, reminding me that Asher would never go for a woman like me.
“Let’s switch it around. If a man had invited me to live in his second apartment, what would you think?”
“I’d think your boyfriend would be very upset.”
“It’s a hypothetical question, spoilsport.”
“I’d think he liked you,” I admit. “But it’s not the same.”
“How?”
I sigh. “Because you’re Paula Kirkwood. You were the hottest girl in high school. You’ve always had boyfriends. I’ve only ever had one, and he turned out to be a creep. I think it’s far more likely that Asher is just being nice.”
“There’s being nice and then there’s giving somebody your apartment… an apartment that must cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, if not more.”
“He’s given me no sign he’s attracted to me,” I say firmly.
“Don’t you want him to be?”
“Of course I do.” I leap from the couch, pacing up and down in front of the TV, too full of frenetic energy to sit down. “But that’s the thing. I can’t let myself think like that. I can’t go there, even for a second, because if I do, and it turns out he’s just playing the Good Samaritan…”
