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“About last night,” she said.
He winced. “I’m sorry about that. You were hurting, and me sharing my own pain was wrong. I didn’t mean to lessen yours.”
“No, that’s not it,” she said, frowning at him.
Trenton swallowed his next words, listening.
“You carried me back to bed,” she said, staring into her smoothie.
“Oh, that.” He smiled at her. “It reminded me of my sisters.” On impulse, he reached out to ruffle her hair. The silky strands sifted through his fingers, leaving a tingle in their wake.
Celia froze under his touch, and he regretted giving in to instinct. He turned to the clock. “I have to head to the office.”
She nodded, the movement jerky. “Of course. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. And think nothing of last night. Consider it forgotten.” Trenton moved his hands under the counter, as if hiding them would remove the remembered feel of her. He cleared his throat. “Do you have your phone?”
“I’ll get it.”
She let go of the drink as she escaped to the back bedroom.
Trenton flexed his hands, frowning down at them. Even his chest betrayed him with the ghostly feel of how she had pressed against it when he’d carried her the night before. Like a child, he reminded himself.
“Here it is,” she said, moving back to the bar.
He held his hand out for it. “You should have my contact numbers, just in case.”
She unlocked her phone and passed it over.
Trenton put in his work and his cell, going ahead and hitting the call button and letting it ring before hanging up again. His glance at the clock wasn’t feigned. “I’ll save yours, too. I have to go, but make yourself at home.” Before he turned away, he pointed at the green smoothie. “And try that. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
“Thanks, I think,” she said, but a small smile graced her lips.
He paused, and he realized he was waiting for her to tell him to have a nice day, like Emily used to. Turning away, he headed to the door, not looking back.
Chapter 9
Celiastaredatthegreen liquid in the glass. Condensation had formed on the outside, making her hand slick as she wrapped it around the drink. She could pour it down the drain. Trenton would never know. But his smile rose in her mind. His expression when he smiled was as if he trusted the world. He’d never call her out for lying.
Still not liking the idea, she took the smallest sip of the smoothie. She choked on the riot of flavors, too many to decipher, all rolling around in blazing glory. There had never been another drink like it in all the world, she was sure of that. She just wasn’t certain if that was a good or bad thing. Needing to decide, she took a bigger gulp. The smooth texture of the blended drink was somehow wrong with the hint of kale and other vegetables in it. With the larger portion, the aftertaste was more obvious, some sort of protein powder.
One thing the drink did have going for it; she was wide awake. You had to be to process all the flavors.
She lifted the glass to take it with her as she prowled the condo. The tour he had done the night before had passed in a fog. The travel, the emotional garbage, and the trek through the rain had all combined to exhaust her. Her own bedroom and the bathroom she was familiar with. The living room was rich with darker colors, opposite of the kaleidoscope of the guest room she was sleeping in. The sliding glass door she’d opened the night before appeared spotless, not even showing possible finger prints.
He’d let her pop into his bedroom before, but she hadn’t really taken it in. She sipped the smoothie for courage and crossed to his closed door, opening it to peer in.
The darker theme continued in his bedroom, with furniture in cherry wood and a sky-blue bedspread. It must have been one of those two-sided comforters, as the folded-over top was a light gray.
He made his bed. At least they had one thing in common.
Not that they needed to have anything in common. Celia downed the last of the smoothie as punishment over the thought, coughing as it slid down the wrong pipe and almost escaped through her nose. The glass fell from her hand, but a pile of dirty clothes cushioned the fall. It was the jogging outfit he’d worn earlier. So he wasn’t a complete neat freak.
When she bent to retrieve the glass, a hint of his musky smell from earlier filled her senses. It wasn’t sweaty man smell. Instead, it carried a hint of that woodsy cologne she’d noticed the night before, and something else that seemed to be just him. Almost like apples.
Celia grabbed the glass and made a hasty exit. She didn’t need that fluttery feeling in her stomach, the same one she’d felt when his hand had ruffled her hair but paused in the act, gently smoothing it as well. Her body might have risen in interest of the man, but she’d learned her lesson in letting it take the wheel.
Besides, Trenton had no designs on her. Which she was relieved about, she told herself. He thought of her as a sister and not a woman. That would make living together easier.
