Chapter 7 #2
Going back to school had helped. Mom and Dad knew how much I’d loved school and how set I’d been on achieving my goals. But school was over now and this next step was a big one.
A shiver raced over my shoulders as the chill air sank past my thin tee. Not exactly winter wear.
I’d gotten hot earlier, emptying out my drawers. I’d only put on a gray tee with a pair of olive cargo pants. My black baseball cap was hiding the fact that I hadn’t washed my hair today and my Converse were barely tied because reaching my feet took effort.
“Come on.” Leo collected the suitcase at my feet, then slipped the backpack from my shoulder to put over his own.
With one last glance at my parents driving away, I followed Leo to the front door and inside. The scent of furniture polish and Pine-Sol hit me first. “You didn’t have to clean.”
“Yeah, I did.” He grinned over his shoulder and a flutter stirred in my belly.
Maybe after we spent more time together those flutters would go away. Maybe the allure of his handsome face and sexy grin would wear off.
I was banking on a lot of maybes these days.
Rather than drool over his tall, sculpted body or get lost in his pale eyes, I studied his house, something I hadn’t done the first time I’d been here. “Your home is lovely.”
“Don’t give me any credit. The previous owners remodeled before they put it on the market. And Scarlett decorated.”
“She did? Oh. I didn’t realize she was a decorator.”
Scarlett and I had texted some while I’d been at school in Missoula.
We never chatted for long and after she’d told me that she was expecting too, our conversations had centered around comparing pregnancy complaints.
Never, ever about the kidnapping. We didn’t know each other well, but now that I was back, I hoped that would change. Scarlett had a spark that I admired.
“It’s unofficial,” Leo said. “She’s going to an online school and wanted to practice. She was pissed at me for . . . you know.” Me. “She told me that if I let her decorate my place, she’d hate me a little less.”
“Sounds like her.” I smiled.
“I don’t know her as well as Pres,” Leo said. “But they’ve got the same sass. They’ve aimed it at me a few times this year and it’s got a bite.”
“Your suffering shouldn’t make me happy, but it does.”
He chuckled. “Make yourself at home, okay? I mean it.”
“Thank you.” I wouldn’t, but he didn’t need to know. This was a trial and I’d treat it as such. I hoped he’d come through but I had a backup plan in case.
He rushed outside, leaving me in the entryway, standing beside my things while he went outside for the last of the boxes. They joined the backpacks and suitcases on the floor as he closed the door and nodded for me to follow him deeper into the house.
“Let me give you the tour. Then I’ll haul everything to your room.”
“Okay.” I tucked my hands into my pockets, hiding my nerves.
When he’d brought me here after The Betsy, we’d been a fumbling mess of lips and hands and discarded clothes. I hadn’t even paid attention to his bedroom. And the morning after, I’d rushed out the door, not exactly a walk of shame, but more that I’d wanted to leave before he could ask me to leave.
Now I was living here.
Oh my God. I was living with Leo.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Great.” I nodded. “I love these floors.”
They were done in a soft walnut that made the white trim and doors pop. That white was the only bright shade to be seen. The walls in the entryway were rich charcoal gray and the living room was a shade bolder.
Oddly enough, the deep colors worked. It was very different from the neutral beiges and taupes of my mother’s style, but it was warm and moody. Cozy.
The colorful area rug brightened the space. The furniture in the living room was camel leather, worn and scratched in some places, each piece facing the TV above the stone fireplace. Charming, but it was the artwork that stole my attention.
Every piece was small and framed. They clustered in the free wall space around the room. Some were colorful, like the mountain ridge in shades of blue that dripped color from the bottom. Or the pine tree outlined in black but accentuated with shades of forest green and lime and shamrock.
I walked closer to another piece on the wall, larger than the others. It was a raven, black as night with shattering wings. Beneath it was the faintest hint of blood-red. Spooky, yet stunning.
“Those are my tattoos.” Leo came up beside me. “Or these are the drawings I did for the tattoo artist.”
“You did these?”
He nodded and shoved up the sleeve of his shirt, showing me the underside of his forearm with the tree. Its tip tickled the inside of his elbow and the trunk was so long it stretched to his wrist.
My fingers reached up, skimming his skin. I had no idea why I did it. Temptation. Pregnancy brain. But the jolt that raced up my arm made me snatch my hand back. “Sorry.”
“Not like you haven’t touched me before, Cass.”
“Right.” I’d touched him everywhere. My cheeks had to be the color of my hair. Guaranteed.
We might have touched then, but this was now. Touching was a bad, bad idea. Standing beside him was temptation enough without adding anything physical into the mix. The point of me being here was not to intimately reacquaint myself with Leo.
This was a test.
I suspected that his awful behavior from months ago had been driven by fear. He’d freaked and lashed out. I wouldn’t hold a few bad days against him forever. Leo had one more chance to prove himself the man I suspected he actually was.
This test didn’t require any touching. None.
I took a step backward. “You’re an amazing artist.”
“This is just for fun.” He lifted a shoulder. “It’s not what pays the bills.”
“You work at the garage, right?” I asked but already knew the answer.
“Yeah. I’m a mechanic and do all of the painting.”
As a woman who knew nothing about cars, even I’d heard of the Clifton Forge Garage. Probably because before the kidnapping, Dad had bragged about them a few times. He’d thought it was cool that our small town had a nationally renowned garage.
I knew what Leo did there. In a moment of desperation months ago, when the hormones had been storming and the upcoming-single-mother blues had set in, I’d gone on to social media and searched for Leo, expecting to find him living his best life while I was growing his child.
But Leo didn’t have any social media accounts. Not one. The garage had an Instagram account and I’d memorized every photo that included his face. I’d read the articles, scouring every line for just the mention of his name or another photo of him beside a gleaming classic car.
It had satisfied my initial curiosity, but now that I was in his house, I wanted to know more.
I wanted to know everything.
Was he still the town playboy? Was he spending his nights at The Betsy while I’d been at home alone?
I guess I’d find out soon enough.
“The kitchen is this way.” Leo walked down the hallway toward the back of the house, where the kitchen split the place in two. Unlike the living room, here, the white cabinets were bright, and the large window over the sink gave the room an airy feel.
“My bedroom is down that hallway.” He pointed as he spoke.
“It used to be the garage but the previous owners turned it into the primary when they put up the detached garage. Laundry is across from my room. Door to the basement is at the end of the hallway. Not much down there but my weights and gym stuff.”
“I won’t be needing those.” I rubbed my stomach, covering up my belly button that had popped out a couple of weeks ago like the button on a turkey.
Leo’s gaze followed the movement. He extended a hand, almost touching, then pulled it away, up and through that blond hair.
“Go ahead. I don’t mind.”
“Um . . . nah.”
Random women in the grocery store would rush up to me and put their hands on my belly without asking. Not Leo. I pretended like it didn’t sting.
He cleared his throat and headed down another hallway that ran in the opposite direction of the one to his room. He paused outside the second door we reached, waving me inside. “This is you.”
The bedroom was painted the same navy blue as the exterior of the house. The sprawling white bed in the center of the room looked like a fluffy cloud floating through a midnight sky. “It’s beautiful.”
“Scarlett. She picked it all out. The previous owners had a thing for dark walls, I guess. I didn’t feel like painting. Cars? Yes. Walls? No. So I told Scarlett to try and make it work.”
“I’d say she was successful.” I walked toward the bed, my feet sinking into the thick carpet.
“Bathroom’s through there.” He hovered at the doorway, motioning to the en suite. “Closet’s empty. Room beside yours is empty too. So is the one across the hall. This whole side of the house is yours.”
“This is a big house.” I went to the window, pushing back the pale gray curtains. “I don’t need this much space. Really.”
“Not like I’m using it.”
No, it wasn’t. Why had he left it so empty? Why hadn’t he put anything in these rooms?
I stared outside and around the street. The lots on this block were large, allowing for decent yards between homes, but Leo’s seemed remote.
“You’re sort of set apart from the neighborhood.”
“Yeah. Part of why I bought it. This was the first plot in the development when it was built in the eighties. Not long after, they rezoned because I guess the developer got himself into a tight spot financially and by cutting down on the lot size and dropping the price, he could sell them easier. I don’t know.
That’s just what my realtor told me. So this is basically two lots with the house in the middle.
I don’t have anyone breathing down my neck. ”
For a man who confessed to feeling lost, he sure had isolated himself. “Well, thank you for letting me stay. I promise not to breathe down your neck.”
“I didn’t mean you.”
“I know.” I gave him a little smile as I moved away from the window. “Your house is beautiful. I didn’t tell you the first time I was here, but it’s quite unexpected.”
“What were you expecting?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“Trashy bachelor pad.”
He chuckled. “A few years ago, yeah. That was me.”
“Thank you for letting me stay here.”
“Glad you are.” He pushed off the doorframe. “I’ll get your stuff.”
He’d delivered only one suitcase to the bedroom when the doorbell rang.
“It’s probably my parents,” I said, following him to the entryway. Sure enough, when he opened the door, my dad was standing with his arms crossed behind my mother.
“Here are your keys.” She peeked inside, waiting for an invitation. But today was not the day for guests so I plucked the keys from her hand.
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll call you later.”
“But—okay.” She frowned and looked up at Leo standing behind me. “If she has any contractions or labor pains, you call us. Even if she tells you not to.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mom crossed the threshold, pulling me into a hug and whispering in my ear, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Me too.”
She held on tight, not letting me go.
I patted her shoulder. “Okay, Mom.”
She didn’t budge.
“Mom.”
“Rose Petal.” Dad’s gentle voice and a hand on her shoulder was what pulled her away. He took her place, hugging me close, then ushered her to the driveway.
I waved, waiting until they were both in their car, then closed the door.
Reality came crashing down. I’d moved in with Leo. Alone. Two strangers under one roof.
Please, let this work.
“Your mom’s name is Rose Petal?” he asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s Claudia. Dad calls her Rose Petal. To everyone. So much so that some people actually think it’s her name.”
“I thought maybe she’d been raised by hippies or something.”
“No.” I laughed. “My granddad is retired but he and Grandma still live here and they are the opposite of hippie. He was a businessman. She was a housewife, like June Cleaver. My grandma loves to read true stories. She was the one who turned me on to them in the first place and got me interested in studying history.”
Leo nodded. “And your dad’s name?”
We hadn’t done introductions, had we? Things were moving so fast I was struggling to keep up. “His name is Dale.”
“Dale,” he repeated. “And he calls you Buttercup.”
“That or Cassie. My friends called me Cass, but Mom and Dad have always called me Cassie.”
“What about Cassandra? Anyone call you that?”
“Professors. Dad when I’m in trouble.”
He nodded and didn’t move. Instead he stood there, trapping me in the entryway as his gaze raked over my face. He’d done the same thing at The Betsy all those months ago.
Leo stared, unabashedly.
Maybe it was to unnerve people.
Maybe he liked what he was seeing.
That would move us into dangerous territory, so I pointed toward my side of the house. “I, um . . . think I’ll spend some time unpacking.”
“Yeah.” He blinked, shaking the look off his face, and picked up my bags. When I went to grab my backpack, he waved me off. “I’ll get it.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I ducked my chin, hiding under the brim of my hat, then went to the bedroom.
While he brought in my bags and boxes, I gave him a wide berth, then said another thank-you before he left me alone.
Was this a mistake? That question looped through my mind as I set folded tops and panties into drawers. While I hung sweaters and stowed jeans.
Temporary. This was temporary. This was a way for Leo to get to know me and realize I wasn’t his enemy, then once we were on common ground, once he’d adjusted to the idea of fatherhood, I’d find a new place. Maybe in my time here we’d come to a sort of friendship.
Unpacking didn’t take long, but by the time I was done, hunger drove me from the bedroom. I went in search of Leo to tell him I’d go to the grocery store and found him in the living room, relaxed on the couch, watching a basketball game on TV.
“Hey.” I hated this part of adjusting to new roommates. It was why I’d lived with the same three girls for so long. We might not be best friends, but we knew how to coexist. I missed Olive and the familiarity we’d had after five years together. “I was going to go to the grocery store.”
“There’s food here. Help yourself.”
“I—” Before I could finish my sentence, his forehead furrowed and he shoved off the couch, walking to the bay window that overlooked the front yard. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Shit.”
“What?” I went to his side, expecting to see my parents back for another visit.
Instead, the glass began to vibrate, and the sound of distant thunder filled the air. Leo must have heard it, knowing the sound, because one minute we were alone.
And the next, the Tin Kings were parking in his driveway.