Chapter 10
ten
. . .
SUMMER
A noise outside startles me awake.
After years of living in my van, I’m careful to sit up slowly so I don’t bang my head on the ceiling.
I slept so hard it takes me a moment for my brain to catch up. Then it all comes crashing back. The break in. Edgar missing. Rory was here.
Rory.
The space next to me is empty, but I know he was here. His scent still lingers on the pillow. I roll onto it, eyes fluttering closed as I breathe him in.
A man has never seen the inside of this van, let alone slept in it.
Last night, Rory saw a lot he wasn’t supposed to. Like me crying, for example. A snotty, emotional mess. That is reason enough to keep my distance.
I mentally comb through my long to-do list.
Walk the dogs, take Edgar to his vet appointment, work at the café...and figure out what to do about my van’s broken lock. Also, it might be worth walking the area to look for my missing paints in case the intruders had dumped them somewhere.
Clank.
There’s that sound again.
Tossing Rory’s pillow aside, I climb down from the loft and throw on a sweatshirt before I look out the window to see a man sitting in a metal camping chair facing my van. There’s no vehicle or sign of Rory, but it doesn’t matter, I can handle this myself.
I glance around the van for Edgar but he’s nowhere to be found. Again.
How does one tiny pug cause so much chaos?
“What are you doing?” I call.
The man shoots out of the chair, the sudden movement causing the creaky metal to fold in on itself and collapse, falling to the ground.
“Hi there, Miss. I’m Walter.”
“Walter who?”
“Walter Mathis. I’m here to fix the lock on your van.”
“Rory called you?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, but he told me to let you sleep. Not to start working until you were up. And to keep watch in the meantime.”
I sigh. Of course, Rory didn’t leave me here sleeping without protection. He’d been adamant to not leave me last night and now, even in the light of day, he hired the locksmith to be my bodyguard. I want to be annoyed but that seems to be the issue I’m having with Rory…he’s impossible to be mad at.
And I liked having him here last night. But I’m also aware I can’t let it happen again.
Things are getting too comfortable, too fast.
Like how good it felt falling asleep in his arms.
It must be the lack of physical touch that’s making me feel all sorts of strange things for this guy. A guy I barely know, yet feel completely at ease with.
The moment I see Rory pull up in his Jeep with Edgar in the passenger seat, I don’t know whether to swoon or spit venom. Self-preservation has me choosing the latter.
“Where have you been?” I snap, marching over to the passenger seat to retrieve Edgar.
“Well, I had early morning dryland practice, then I came back here and you were still sleeping so I took Edgar with me to grab coffee.”
“And you trusted this guy?—”
“Walter’s the name,” Walter chimes in from where he’s at my open van door, studying the lock.
“I had no idea where Edgar was. I woke up and thought he’d been kidnapped.”
“Sorry about that. Based on how hard you were sleeping, I figured we’d be back before you woke up.”
“You were out cold. I heard you snoring from out here.” I turn to find Walter hiking up the waistband of his pants right before fastening his toolbelt around his midsection.
My jaw drops at Walter’s accusation.
“What is he talking about? I don’t snore.”
I expect Rory to agree with me, but he just gives me a soothing look.
“Don’t worry. It’s nothing a nasal strip can’t fix.”
I don’t want to be deeply offended by their casual conversation about my nighttime breathing habits, but part of me hates other people knowing such intimate details about me.
But I know a nasal strip won’t fix the issue. It’s more likely that I’m snoring because my airway is inflamed. If I were using the right dosage of medication, instead of rationing it, I’d be less likely to snore.
“I’m going to get started on the lock. Should only be about twenty minutes or so.”
“Thanks, Walt. We’ll be inside.”
Rory lifts the coffees in his hands, motioning for us to step inside. I follow—for the coffee, I tell myself.