Chapter Eight #3
The dogs follow us to the door, which Kinsley holds open for them to go inside first. I follow her up the stairs, and I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.
The place is beyond charming, and it makes me want to hook it up to my truck.
I could drive us around to explore the coastline together and just enjoy the peacefulness of the time alone with her.
“Did you do all this yourself?” I ask instead of offering to take her around the world, gesturing in a circle with my fingers. One day, I’ll breach the subject if she lets me off the hook with what I have to tell her.
Her cheeks tint as a bout of shyness plays over her, but she nods, and I can see the pride shining in her rich chocolate depths.
“It was nice when I bought it, but I upgraded a lot of stuff. The fridge is full-sized now; the one before was way too tiny. I’ve painted a lot and added backsplash to the kitchen area and bathroom.
The lush rugs are all new, the couch, of course, and a bunch of other stuff.
I’m decent at decorating.” She shrugs it off as no big deal.
It’s a big deal to me, and only shows how much more talented she is than she realizes. “Are you kidding? You’ve managed to make this place feel homey and upscale. I’d chill here any day, and my buddies would be jealous. I never would’ve guessed you could fit a TV that big in here either.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “It’s way too girly to be a mancave, sorry. As for the big television, I only watch sports or movies. So, of course, it needed to be larger than average. The rest of the time, I’m more of a music person.”
“No mancave?” My hand flies to my heart, shooting her a wounded look, making her laugh even more. I love the sound of it. And she’s a music person? A woman after my own heart. It seems the more I manage to squirrel out of her, the more I find I like, and we have in common.
I take a seat and watch as she pops over to the fridge. She grabs a pitcher and then reaches for two glasses, filling them generously before making her way to the couch. She offers me a cup and I can’t stop from taking a sip immediately. The flavor of icy sweetness explodes over my tongue.
“Mm, that’s some good sweet tea. Thank you. I’m sorry I pulled you out of bed. I got to thinking earlier that I wanted to see you. I felt like talking over text wouldn’t be good enough, so here I am.”
She shrugs, “I’m glad you’re here, even if it is late. Good news is, I write books, so I don’t consider myself a morning person. I’m generally a night owl. Besides, I wanted to talk to you, too.”
“That sounds serious,” I reply a bit glumly, worried she’s ready to call things off. Not gonna lie, it would hurt if she did. Maybe I should’ve waited until tomorrow to show up to prolong the break off, if that’s what this is for her tonight.
“I mean, there are a few things we should discuss.” She sips her tea, then sets the cup down on the coffee table.
I do the same and then lean in, grabbing her hand in mine again. I need to touch her in some way. I want her to know she has my complete attention as she continues.
“For starters, I found an article online from the local station.”
My gut drops with fear of what she’s going to say next about my press conference earlier.
I wait on baited breath for her to tell me she already knows all about me, and she doesn’t want to see me again.
How my fame is too much of a headache to deal with.
I wouldn’t blame her; it would suck, but I’d understand why.
“They posted on social media that they’re looking for sources that can provide them with details of what happened at the lumber store.
They posted our names in the article, which is bullshit and has to be against some sort of privacy act or something.
” She pauses long enough to pull up the post on her tablet, handing the device to me.
“I threatened to contact my lawyer, so hopefully it scares them enough to take it down.”
“So, they posted my name, no other details?” I clarify, quickly reading the brief article.
She nods, not adding anything else to it, which tells me there’s still a possibility of her not knowing who I am and what I do for a living.
“Okay. Well, they’re going to talk. Especially when a crime is involved, so no biggie. ”
She releases a long exhale, “Phew. I was concerned you’d be really upset over it and possibly want to call this quits. But you’re okay with them posting about it? Knowing your name?”
I shrug, “Yeah. As long as they don’t badger you for more information. That’s all I’m concerned about, is them becoming a nuisance.”
She nods, smiling. “Okay, good. Now, what was so important that you wanted to talk to me about that you drove over in the middle of the night? The same article?”
“No, uh, I don’t actually live in this area. My mom does, or else I would’ve been over a lot earlier.”
She sighs, “You live with your mother?”
Every bit of her expression tells me she’s not impressed with this news, and now I know I have to divulge who I really am…