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But why bother? Does he not find her attractive? And if so, how did he ever find me attractive? Because I’m certainly not as stunning as she is.
There’s obviously something wrong with him.
I shove food into my mouth as I continue to mull this over. When the server returns with my water, Kellyn doesn’t even spare her a glance. He’s enjoying his food, looking about the inn, the people.
“If this were a normal day for me, I’d be trying to find work,” he says. “Looking for someone who needs protection on the road.”
“You miss it,” I say.
“A bit,” he admits.
“I’m sorry.”
“I wasn’t looking for apologies. Just making conversation.”
“Then why don’t you make conversation tonight? At ten? With her?” I point with my eyes at the server who walks by and curse myself for ever opening my mouth.
Why don’t I just tell him outright that I’m a jealous idiot who needs to get a handle on her feelings?
The innkeeper stops Kellyn from answering and spares me further mortification by saying, “The bath is ready.”
I snatch the key from his lowered hand, ditch the rest of my dinner, and run upstairs as though my life depends on it.
The room is much smaller than I expected. The tub barely fits at the foot of the two beds, which might as well be one bed with the mere foot of space between them. I have to squeeze between the tub and the wall just to be able to shut the door.
I lock it, undress, and climb into the tub, trying my hardest to forget the stupid thing I just did.
I last about two seconds.
Why didn’t Kellyn accept the pretty girl’s invitation? Maybe he wants some alone time, but if that were the case, then why did he want to eat dinner surrounded by strangers? I dunk my head below the surface of the water and hold my breath.
Why did I have to ask him about it? Now he knows I’m thinking about him and his romantic exploits.
My lungs burn, so I come up for air. When I’m done, I scrub my clothes clean and hang them up to dry on the footboard of my bed. I slide into the nightgown, courtesy of the inn, left on my bed. As I run my fingers through my short hair, I wonder what the odds are that Kellyn will take his time with dinner.
A heavy fist hits the door in quick succession, causing me to jump.
But I don’t make a sound, hoping whoever it is will go away.
“Ziva, you took the only key.”
Oh, right.
I unlock the door before sitting back on the bed.
If I weren’t still so panicky about my earlier comment, I’d probably find it funny watching Kellyn trying to squeeze into the room. It takes him a couple tries to get the door shut, and he nearly falls over while taking off his boots.
“Would you rather wait up here or downstairs while I bathe?” he asks. His voice has a strange edge to it. I cannot place his mood.
More important, though, I don’t know the answer to his question. Downstairs there are people. Up here there is a naked Kellyn.
“I’m in a nightgown,” I say, as though that’s any answer or explanation.
“Then why don’t you turn around?”
Still sitting upright, I shift my body to face the small window in the room.
Where I can see Kellyn’s reflection.
