Chapter 10
Theo
The movie I’d turned on was boring. I was sprawled out on my couch with an equally boring sandwich for dinner. Maybe I’d go out. A beer at the Timberbeast didn’t sound half bad. Better than sitting around by myself, at least.
I turned off the TV and got up to change out of the pajama pants I’d put on when I’d gotten home.
Penelope’s Morris painting was on my dining table, ready for her to take home when she decided where to put it.
I still wondered why she’d asked me to hang on to it for her.
Not that I minded. It wasn’t a big deal. It just struck me as odd.
I grabbed my keys, and right as I was about to slip my phone in my pocket, it buzzed with a call. Penelope.
A jolt of alarm hit me. Why was she calling? “Hey, Pen.”
“Hi… Um…” She trailed off for a second. “I’m sorry to bother you, but…”
“But what? What’s the matter?”
“It’s a long story.” She sniffled and seemed to be having trouble talking. Oh, shit. She was crying.
“Pen, what’s wrong? Where are you?”
“Echo Creek. I just…I need a ride.”
I was already out the door. “I’m on my way. Where in Echo Creek?”
“Outside…a restaurant,” she said between sobs. “Sage Bistro.”
“Don’t worry, I got you.” I got in my truck and fired up the engine. “What’s going on? You’re outside?”
“Ye—” She hiccupped. “Yes.”
“Are you safe? I’m half an hour away. Can you wait inside?”
“N-no. I…um…can’t… Don’t…want to…go back in.”
“Okay, hang tight. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Stay on the phone with me, okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
Tension rippled through me as I drove, listening to the sound of her crying on the other end. I knew it was Sean. That douchebag piece of shit. What had he done to her? Why was she outside a restaurant in another town? That fucker. I’d rip his face off.
My hands gripped the steering wheel as I navigated the winding highway. Every time her end went quiet, I checked to make sure she was still there. She was. The sobbing died down, but she didn’t talk much. Just replied with a soft yes when I asked if she was still on the phone.
The drive went by fast—probably because of my complete lack of attention to the speed limit. Once I got into Echo Creek, I peered into the dark as I drove down the main road through town, looking for Pen. Finally, I caught sight of her standing on the sidewalk outside Sage Bistro.
“I’m here,” I said as I pulled into the no-parking zone in front of the restaurant.
Without a word, she ended the call. I slammed my truck into park and unlocked the door. She climbed in and shut the door.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice soft despite the mix of worry and anger clenching my chest. “What happened?”
Her lower lip trembled, and it took her a moment to answer. “Sean proposed.”
My eyes flew to her hands, rage pouring through me at the mere thought of seeing that jackass’s ring on her finger. But it wasn’t there. Because of course it wasn’t. That’s why she was crying.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered. “You turned him down.”
Eyes on her lap, she nodded. “The whole restaurant saw.” Although she was no longer sobbing, her voice shook. “He was pretty mad. So he left.”
“He left you out there alone?”
Still not looking at me, she nodded again.
“Fuck,” I said under my breath. Yes, I was furious, but more than anything, I was concerned about her. I turned up the heat. She had to be cold.
“Thanks.” She held her hands in the warm air coming out of the vent. “I, um…”
It looked like she was going to start crying again, so I waited. I wanted to reach over and pull her to me, but the center console was in the way. What was I going to do, drag her into my lap?
I glanced at the space between me and the steering wheel. Actually, if I moved the seat all the way back—
Big tears rolled down her cheeks from beneath her glasses. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” she whispered quickly, as if it was almost too much for her to get the words out.
Of course she didn’t. She lived with him and had just ended their relationship. The piece of shit had left her there, alone in the dark, with nowhere to go.
“Yes, you do.” My voice was decisive as I put the truck back in drive. “You’re coming home with me.”
“I can’t ask you to let me stay with you.”
I pulled out onto the street. “You didn’t. I’m telling you, you’re coming to my place.”
She took a shaky breath. “Thank you.”
We spent the drive in silence. It didn’t seem like she was ready to talk, and I didn’t want to make her start crying again.
About halfway home I decided fuck it, and reached over to hold her hand.
Maybe it was weird to hold hands with your best friend when she’d just broken up with her boyfriend, but I didn’t care. I had to do something. I couldn’t let her sit there in misery.
I twined our fingers together and squeezed. With another shaky breath, she squeezed back.
It felt good. Really good.
When we arrived at my house, I parked and reluctantly let go. We got out and went inside, Penelope took slow steps into the living room, like she wasn’t sure where to go or what to do.
I set my keys on the counter. “Do you want to take your coat off?”
“Oh.” She looked down at herself as if she’d forgotten she was wearing it. “Sure.”
She untied the belt, and I stepped in to hold her purse and take her coat as she slipped it off. She still wore the black dress she’d had on earlier, and damn, it looked great on her. But I couldn’t start thinking about the way the dress hugged her curves when her life had just fallen apart.
I hung her coat and purse on the hook by the door. “Do you want something else to wear?”
Her hands skimmed her hips, which did not help. “That would be great. Thank you.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I went to my bedroom, forcing my brain—not my groin—to stay in control. She needed clothes. A place to sleep. I probably had an extra toothbrush I’d gotten at the dentist’s office. There’d be more to deal with—a lot more—but that should get her through the night.
Grabbing my THS hoodie, a white T-shirt, and a pair of pajama pants that were going to be big on her but were the best I could do, I fished a toothbrush and some toothpaste out of a drawer in my bathroom and took it all across the hall to the spare bedroom.
It was a bit of a mess in there. I used it mostly for storage, although I had a futon that folded flat.
No one had slept on it in years. Probably not since my brother Zachary, back in his troublemaker days.
He’d needed a place to crash once in a while—usually after starting shit at the Timberbeast.
Those days long gone. The couch was covered in a pile of old clothes I’d been meaning to get rid of and one of the blankets my mom had knit for me.
I tossed the clothes in the corner and moved the futon away from the wall so I could fold the back down.
I couldn’t remember where I’d put the extra sheets, but there was a sleeping bag in the closet.
Not ideal, but it was better than nothing.
I found a pillow and made the bed as best I could, draping the throw blanket over the sleeping bag to make it look a little cozier.
I laid the change of clothes on top and set the toothbrush and toothpaste on a side table. My makeshift hospitality wasn’t exactly impressive, but at least I had a room to offer her.
“Sorry,” I said as I walked back to the living room. “I was getting things set up for you. There’s a futon in the spare bedroom. All I could find is a sleeping bag. But I put some clothes in there and I found a toothbrush that’s still in the package.”
She still stood in the living room, hugging her arms around herself, her expression as forlorn as a puppy left out in the pouring rain.
My entire body ached with the desire to hold her. To march over, put my arms around her, and crush her against me. I wanted to fix this. Not her relationship—she deserved so much more than that dick—but I wanted to make her feel better, almost more than I could stand.
“Thank you.”
The way her voice still shook held me back. I was out of my depth and feeling way too many things. I had to be careful or I was going to do something monumentally stupid. Like kiss her.
Or worse, offer to be her revenge fuck. No. Not a good idea.
I stepped aside and gestured toward the spare room. “It’s through there.”
With a nod, she went in and closed the door behind her.
Letting out a low groan, I raked my hand through my hair and wandered into the kitchen. I needed to keep moving—keep doing things. Tea. She liked tea.
Did I have tea?
I rooted around and found a box of green tea in a cupboard.
Turning it over, I wondered why I had it.
And how old it was. Did tea expire? I didn’t even have a teakettle—just a coffee maker—but all I needed was hot water.
That I could do. I pulled out a small pan and got some water heating on the stove.
Was she hungry? I wondered if they’d made it through dinner before he’d popped the question. Curiosity about how that had gone down poked at me. I opened the fridge, but I hadn’t been to the store recently and didn’t have much on hand.
I turned around at the sound of the bedroom door opening. She emerged, dressed in my hoodie and the too-big pajama pants. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder, draping between her neck and the hood. She had the sleeves rolled up and her hands in the front pocket.
Why was that so hot?
None of it fit. The sweatshirt hung low, I had a feeling the drawstring was the only reason the pants weren’t falling off, and her feet were bare. And it was sexy beyond belief. It called to mind an image of her coming out of my bedroom in the morning after a night of ravaging her.
Why was I thinking like that? I was the worst.
“Thanks again,” she said. “This is much more comfortable.”
My eyes swept up and down and her toes caught my attention. “Are your feet cold? Do you want socks?”
“No, I’m fine. This is great.”