24. Chapter 24
Chapter 24
Nova
T he bathroom was a dream. It had a clawfoot bathtub and a large separate glass shower stall. There were also large windows, but it was dark outside so I couldn’t see what I was certain was a fabulous view.
"I can undress myself," I told Anson, not comfortable at all with being naked in front of him.
"Okay," he smiled tightly. "I'll find you something to wear."
"I have my gym bag in the car…." I trembled, thinking about my car, how easy it was for Pete to arrest me, haul me away for no good reason, again .
He put his hands on my shoulders. "He'll never fuck with you again. That's a promise."
I didn't believe him. "I just need to clean myself," I said instead.
"I'll leave clothes on the bed." He nodded toward a stack of white towels next to the bathtub on a rustic wooden shelf. "Towels are here. Robe is here." He pointed to a fluffy, white, terrycloth robe on a hanger on the back of the bathroom door.
I took my clothes off and knew I'd never wear them again. Might as well burn them, because the dress would always remind me of sitting on the floor of a jail cell and having a panic attack.
I could still feel the cold metal of the cuffs against my wrists. I couldn't help the tears. I sobbed as I let the warm water wash over me. I scrubbed myself almost raw with a loofah I found next to the towels, still wrapped in plastic. The water went cold before I stepped out of the shower stall. I found a brush and hairdryer underneath the sink. They probably belonged to Bailey, I mused. She probably came here with Anson. Jealousy ripped through me.
I dried myself, and used some of the Molten Brown moisturizer on the counter. I brushed my teeth with a fresh toothbrush, and almost felt like I could bear what had happened. I finger-combed my hair because I could not use Bailey's brush or hairdryer. My hair would be a mess in the morning, but that was that.
I needed my phone, which was in my car, which I hoped would be delivered by the morning.
I was going to have to take the day off. I couldn't handle going to work in the morning and pretending like I was alright. I wasn't. I was so far from being okay that it wasn't even funny.
I wrapped myself in a robe and walked into the bedroom. I hadn't paid attention to it before, but it was a sanctuary of comfort, that was the only way to describe it. There was a coziness to it. The king-sized bed was draped in soft linens and a beautiful handmade quilt that was all rust and green, probably matching the colors of the forest beyond. A vintage dresser and a couple of reading chairs completed the space, while large windows probably let in plenty of natural light during the day, offering stunning views of the mountains.
Anson had left me a T-shirt and drawstring shorts. They were his. I felt comforted putting them on. I couldn't wear my grimy bra and panties—in any case, they were going to be burned with my dress. My headlights were on in the T-shirt, but I figured that was unavoidable.
I stepped out of the bedroom and walked straight into an expansive open-concept living, dining, and kitchen area with high, vaulted ceilings, and exposed wooden beams.
Anson was in the kitchen, making what smelled like tea.
The kitchen was fully equipped with modern appliances and a large farmhouse sink. Wooden cabinets and a butcher block countertop gave it a timeless appeal, while a small dining table by the window was a perfect spot for meals with a view. Beyond the living room, the moonlight showed me a wide and large porch.
"How are you feeling?" Anson asked.
I shrugged. "I'll be okay."
"But you're not okay now?" He nodded at a bar stool by the kitchen island.
I sat, my feet bare, exhaustion claiming every cell in my body. "No," I admitted, "I'm not okay now."
There was no point in lying with false bravado. I was a basket case and inclined to cry at the drop of a hat. I was also feeling lethargic because of the constant weeping and the drop off in adrenaline.
"I'm making some chamomile tea."
I smiled. He remembered. Whenever he told me he was stressed about school, I would suggest chamomile to soothe him.
I looked around the cabin and was enchanted. The decor was a blend of rustic and contemporary elements, with handcrafted wooden furniture, nature-inspired artwork, and soft, inviting textiles. The overall ambiance was one of tranquility and retreat, a perfect escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. It was cozy, unlike the mansion, at least the one time I'd been there.
"This is a beautiful space," I told him.
"Thanks. It's…mine."
"I guessed that."
He shook his head. "No, this is mine and mine alone. I…don't bring anyone here."
He basically just told me that bringing me here was special. I ignored how it made me feel, because those feelings for a man who had so easily discard me in the past were dangerous.
"Mama decorated the mansion, and it's…fussy," he continued as he poured hot water into a teacup with a tea bag in it. "It's cold and artificial. This is mine. I got it so I could step away from Sentinel and Larue Homes, and just be me ."
I loved him sharing this with me. Warning bells went off in my head, but I ignored them because it was so much like a dream to have him here with me, warm and friendly, not angry and accusatory.
"I like it. How many bedrooms?"
"Just one."
I bit my lower lip.
"I'll sleep on the couch. It's very comfortable."
"No, I will," I said immediately. "This is your place and…."
"Bailey has never been here. No woman has slept in that bed."
How did he know me so well? How dare he!
"I don't want to sleep in your bed, Anson." I lifted the tea bag, and stirred it into the water.
"I know. But you had a rough evening, and like hell am I going to let you sleep on the couch," he said gently, but I could hear the steel in his voice. He wasn't going to bend on this.
My mama didn't raise a fool, so I knew which hills were worth dying on, and this one wasn't it, especially since, secretly, I wanted to sleep in a bed that smelled like him.
"Okay."
"You ready for bed?"
I thought about it for a long moment, showing him I was vulnerable—because he already knew. "I don't want to be alone."
He pursed his lips. "I want to show you something. Bring your tea."
He took me to the wraparound porch made with rich, aged wood, which blended seamlessly with the natural environment I could see in the moonlight and the lanterns that hung from the beams outside, casting warm light in the dark.
"Come." He held out a hand, and I slid mine into his. He led me to a daybed, carefully positioned to offer the best view of the star-studded sky.
I knew my furniture. The daybed was crafted from reclaimed wood, its frame sturdy and timeless. It was piled high with plush cushions and soft blankets in earthy tones and subtle patterns, creating a cozy nest for relaxation and stargazing.
I set the cup of tea on the small rustic table next to the daybed, where two solar-powered motion-detecting lanterns blinked on.
I sat on the daybed, impressed. Rocking chairs were scattered around the porch, each paired with a small side table. Potted plants and hanging baskets filled with colorful flowers added a touch of life and vibrancy to the porch, while the scent of pine and fresh mountain air filled my lungs.
He sat up, leaning against the headboard. He drew me to him, pulling me close. It was a warm spring night, and I frowned. "I'm going to get bitten by mosquitoes."
"Nope." He waved toward a lantern. "Those keeps bugs away."
"Cool."
I leaned against his shoulder.
Sleeping with the enemy, Nova?
I couldn't deny myself the comfort he offered on a day when I most needed it. He stroked my shoulder as he held me.
"I missed you," he said gently. "I missed you every day."
I swallowed, not ready to confess that I felt the same way. I had been wearing my armor for the past months since we met again, and even though he'd stripped it off tonight, I knew I'd have to wear it again, and soon. With morning would come regrets. I was certain. But right now, I'd lean into him and get strong again.
"I didn't know what Pete did. Bailey did, though. Neither of them told me."
Suddenly needing space, I pulled away with the excuse of reaching for my teacup. He let me.
"I ended my engagement with Bailey today. I didn't fuck her in my office—but I know she made it look that way because you were sitting outside."
I silently drank tea, letting him get off his chest what he needed to.
"I loved you. I couldn't stand it that you betrayed me. For years, I've hated you for that, and now I find out I'm the one who betrayed you. I left you with Pete to be brutalized."
He was going in circles, and I still wasn't sure what he wanted to say to me.
"I missed you. I ached for you. And then I saw you again. I couldn't not see you again, and again and again. That's why I wanted you on the project. I told myself it was to expose you…but it was because I wanted you with me."
He looked sad as he spoke, like he hated himself for wanting me.
"You want me? What does that mean?" I whispered.
"It means…I…." He took my teacup away from me and put it on the table by the bed. He put his hands on my cheeks, and kissed my lips, just a brush of mouth against mouth.
Did he want to have sex with me? The thought excited me. For seven years, I'd tried too many times to become intimate with a man, and it had always been messy and unsatisfying. I had managed to have sex a few times, but it had been a while. It was too much trouble, and I couldn't get out of my head and get into the act.
You're not going to have sex with Anson Larue, you stupid slut. He's going to crush your heart and stomp all over it. Show some sense.
"Tonight is an anomaly," I said coolly. "I'm feeling vulnerable, weak—"
"Understandably," he cut in.
"And susceptible—"
"Are you saying if we spend the night together, I'll be taking advantage of you?" he asked, and I could see the hurt in his eyes in the warm glow of the solar lamps.
"Yes, that's what I'm sayin'."
It was true. I couldn't help how I felt. I wanted to jump into bed with him. I wanted to have sex with him, feel his hands on my body, and have an orgasm with a human ( fine , with him ) rather than a vibrator. I wanted it a lot. But tonight was an aberration—and cold reality would come with the sunrise, and it would be harder to get my armor back up to protect myself from Anson.
"I'd never do that, Nova. You know that about me."
I got out of bed. I couldn't stand this any longer. I couldn't understand what was going on. It was like the facts of my life had somehow become twisted, and Anson was being nice to me instead of calling me a deceitful bitch.
"I don't know you at all," I shot back, staring down at him from where I stood on the porch. "I never thought you'd believe me."
"Pete found the stolen—"
"In my apartment, yeah, yeah. Ever thought about how he probably planted it there to frame me?"
He looked taken aback. "He wouldn't do that."
"Seriously? You're still thinking that man has any integrity?"
He didn't reply, but it looked as if he was finally getting it. He nodded thoughtfully.
"Remember when we read Nietzsche?" I sat back down on the daybed, and didn't resist when he pulled me back to him.
"Yeah, Sugar, I do."
"Sometimes people don't want to hear the truth because they don't want their illusions destroyed."