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Opening the door just a crack, I peek out to see Jonas Mitchell standing there.
“Jonas?” I ask.
“Hey.” For the first time since I’ve met him, he smiles. And holy hell, it’s a panty-dropping smile if I’ve ever seen one.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, wondering what could be wrong for him to be here.
“Everything’s fine. I came over to apologize.”
“For?”
He rubs his hand along his chin as though he’s nervous and searching for the words. “I’m sorry for being so rude earlier. You came to say hi, and I was just a little distracted by a phone call that I didn’t want to take. I didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome.”
He smiles again, and I feel my cheeks heat a little. “Really, it’s fine. No apologies needed. I shouldn’t have just come over like that.”
“You’re welcome to come over any time you like, Andi.” The look in his eyes shifts from a friendly one to one that I can’t quite put my finger on. His eyes flick up and down my body, and the look in his eyes makes me feel like he can see what I look like underneath my clothes.
I swallow so loudly that I’m positive it’s in surround sound.
He must notice because he changes the subject. “So, did they fix that leaky pipe in the half bath? The plumber told me it got done, but I didn’t get a chance to come over here and check for myself.”
The question catches me off guard, and I stammer over my words. “Uhm, yeah, I think so. I haven’t noticed any leaks.”
“Here, let me come in and check on it for you. I wouldn’t want it to be still leaking because it’ll make your water bill go sky-high.”
Before I can protest, he gently pushes the door open and steps inside. Embarrassment washes over me as he stops and takes in the empty room. He walks around for a moment before turning back to me.
“Andi, do you know you don’t have any furniture? Is there something you want to tell me?” He asks the questions as though he now thinks I’m a total freak.
I sigh. “My stuff is on a moving truck. The moving truck hasn’t gotten here yet.”
“Where is it?”
I shrug. “I wish I knew. The moving company doesn’t even know. But don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ll be okay until it gets here.”
He walks over to my pallet I’ve made and takes note of all the empty snack-cake wrappers. I cover my face with my hands. This man thinks that I’m a total weirdo now.
“Is this all you’ve been eating?” He asks.
“It’s been enough. I mean, I’m not starving or anything,” I say, gesturing to my body, which has a little extra fluff to sustain it.
He turns and looks me up and down, but not in the way that most men would look at me. He looks at me like he wants to eat me like his own personal snack-cake. Uncomfortably, I fidget around where I stand. I’m convinced that I must be reading him all wrong because a man that fine can have any hot piece of ass that he wants. There’s no way he would look at me like that.
“Okay, come on,” he says.
“Huh?” I ask.
“You’re coming to stay at my place.” His words are so matter-of-fact I almost don’t know how to respond.
“Excuse me? I’m just fine here. I’ll be okay.”
Walking toward me, he begins to speak. “So, you’re just going to stay here and eat snacks and sleep on the floor?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
“Come on, Andi. I have an extra bedroom that you can stay in, and you’ll have your own bathroom. I’ll even cook us a nice dinner tonight. Besides, if this will take more than a couple of days, you’re going to need a place to wash your clothes and take a shower. I’m assuming all of your bathroom stuff is on the moving truck?”
As much I hate to admit it, he’s right. I have almost nothing here, and thanks to my road-trip, I haven’t had a good shower in a couple of days. Roadside motels don’t exactly have the best accommodations. On the other hand, I hate asking for help. I’d much rather handle things on my own. Growing up in the foster care system, I have the notion instilled in me that you don’t get something for nothing, so it’s easier to just handle your business on your own.
