Chapter 19. It Doesn’t Cost You Anything to Be Kind
It Doesn’t Cost You Anything to Be Kind
The next thing I knew, I woke up in a strange bed, surrounded by a few fluffy pillows and a thick blue duvet, with sunlight streaming down my face. I sat up, my eyes roaming around the space, and it dawned on me that I was in Rob’s bedroom.
It took me a few minutes to orient myself and remember what had happened last night. Which was … nothing? I was still wearing my clothes from yesterday, and there were no signs of someone having slept on the other side of the bed last night.
Nope, not willing to acknowledge and analyze why that fact had ignited a tiny spark of disappointment within me.
Instead, I fell back on the bed and pulled the duvet over my face, and was rewarded with the comforting smell of fresh mint and crisp apple. And because I was probably out of my damn mind, I burrowed my nose in one of the pillows, surrounding myself with his scent.
Enough, Kim. Pull yourself together.
Pushing away the duvet, I got up and grabbed my phone, which Rob must have left on the bedside table. It was almost seven thirty, so I had to make a move if I wanted to go home and have a quick shower before opening the store.
But before that, I probably could spare a few minutes to snoop around.
His room was neat, simple and minimally furnished.
A colorful abstract oil painting hung on the wall, next to a black-and-white canvas print of his family.
I stood there for a while, studying the picture.
His parents were smiling at each other, while the siblings had their arms around one another, all laughing for the camera.
The tiniest sliver of envy went through my body, because I never knew—and would never know—how it felt to have a childhood like that, to have grown up being surrounded by so many siblings and so much love. And the fact that Rob was close to his family had somehow made him even more … interesting.
Interesting? I mentally kicked myself. Nope. Not going to go there.
I slipped into the bathroom to wash my face, and when I finally ventured outside, he was already puttering in the kitchen, and the smell of fried bacon permeated the house.
“Hey. You’re up.” He had on a ratty gray T-shirt and pajama pants. His hair was sticking out every which way, which, if I wanted to be honest, made him look kind of adorable. “Coffee? I’m making hash browns and cheesy scrambled eggs.”
“Coffee would be great.” I climbed on one of the kitchen stools.
He turned around and opened a cabinet above his head to look for a mug, and his T-shirt sleeves rode up to expose his biceps.
There was a small tattoo of a crab on his upper left arm, and a tiny scale on his upper right arm.
I’d never seen them, because they were always hidden behind his sleeves.
There were two other little ones peeking out of the waistband of his pants, one on his left hip and another on the right, but I couldn’t make out their full shapes.
He said he had five tattoos. Where was the other one? My mind wandered to all the potential places it could possibly be. If he had those two peeking out of his pants, maybe the other one was in the same vicinity …
Stoooooppp. His tattoos are none of my business.
I took one last good look before filing it all away in the back of my mind.
Meanwhile, oblivious to me silently going bananas over his tattoos, Rob had chosen a brown pod and popped it into one of those sleek-looking coffee machines.
He pressed a button, some whirring sounds followed, and the next thing I knew, he handed me a cup of steaming hot coffee.
“Oat milk latte, one sugar. Have I got that right?”
“Yes.” I gaped at him. “How do you know?”
“That’s what you always ordered. Whenever we’re at Ellie’s bakery, and yesterday when we were staking out Elijah.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
Not even Leo knew what my coffee order was. He used to say it was because he wasn’t a coffee person and he couldn’t tell the difference between a latte and a mochaccino, and I had na?vely believed him.
That should have been my first clue that he wasn’t who I thought he was.
“By the way,” he said, “last night was amazing.”
I froze, the mug halfway traveling to my lips. “I … what do you mean?” My brain was racing a hundred miles a minute. Did we do something?
“It was, hands down, the best night of my life.” He sipped his own coffee, his sultry gaze glued to me, while I tried not to stare at his lips. “You were incredible. That thing you did with your mouth”—his voice became huskier—“was unbelievable.”
What? I couldn’t remember anything. Was I really that out of it last night? My cheeks suddenly felt a bit warm, because if we did do things …
Then I glanced at the sofa, and there were pillows and a blanket on it, clear signs that it was his makeshift bed last night.
“Okay, yes, nothing happened.” Rob burst out laughing. “You don’t have to look so horrified. But seriously, I had tons of fun last night. Can I point out, though, that you fell asleep not even halfway through the movie. And you call yourself a fan of movies?”
Relief coursed through me, but also a tiny, uninvited thought of disappointment crept in. And it didn’t escape my notice that this was my second thought in that way this morning, and how it all had to do with him. Or, rather, how it had nothing to do with him.
Why am I even thinking about this?
“You looked exhausted, so I didn’t wake you up. You didn’t even move a muscle when I put you into bed. Just kept snoring away.” He smirked. “That’s what I meant when I said ‘that thing you did with your mouth.’ You snore.”
I never, ever swooned over a guy, but a mental image of him carrying me into his bedroom and putting me into bed danced into my mind and refused to leave my brain, and it was all I had to do not to sigh and melt into a puddle right then and there.
Get your shit together, Kim.
“Sorry. I usually snore when I’m tired.”
“No need to be sorry.” A small smile lifted his mouth. “It’s kind of cute, actually.”
Gaahhh. Focus, focus, focus.
“No one is cute when they snore.” My cheeks now felt like they were on fire. “Uh, do you have a spare toothbrush I can borrow?”
“There should be some in my bathroom cabinet. Let me get them for you.”
“I can find them.” Anything to get away from him for a few minutes so I could recompose myself. I went back to his bathroom and rummaged in the drawers, but all I could see were some first aid items, spare razor blades, and extra tubes of toothpaste.
“Did you find them?” Rob called from outside.
“Not yet!”
I tried another drawer and was startled a few seconds later by his deep rumble echoing in the bathroom. “Let me have a look.”
Surprised, I took a few steps backward and turned around, only to bump into him.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, at the same time he said, “Oops.”
What followed was an awkward dance of us trying to maneuver our way around each other.
I took a couple of steps to my right, as he took a couple of steps to his left, rendering us facing each other again.
Then we both took a couple of steps in the other direction, and finally, I took a couple of steps backward as he awkwardly moved forward.
My back was pressed against the sink, and we were standing so close, if he did even the tiniest shuffle in my direction, we’d be practically plastered against each other.
He stared at me, and I stared back at him.
Neither of us made any effort to move.
“I’m sure I have a spare somewhere.” His voice was gruff.
“Can’t see any.” My own voice came out a little bit raspy.
His eyes were intent on my face, before his gaze dropped to my lips. The air in the bathroom suddenly felt tens, even hundreds of degrees hotter. After a beat—or maybe forever—Rob inhaled a deep breath, the muscles in his jaw ticking.
“Might be in this one.” He reached up and opened a cupboard above me. The underside of his arms brushed my head, and I sucked in a breath at the contact.
What the hell. I had to put a stop to whatever this was.
Without waiting for the toothbrush, I ducked under his arms. “Don’t worry about it. I need to go home before opening the store anyway. Thanks for letting me stay the night.”
Then I fled before I could change my mind.
By the time I arrived at Opa’s house for dinner that evening, whatever moments I had with Rob in the morning had been aggressively shoved into the deepest, darkest corners of my brain, because I’d spent the entire day replaying it more often than I should have, and it had made for, by far, the least productive day in my entire life.
“Hi, Opa.” I gave him a hug. “How’s my favorite grandfather today?”
“Baik, dong.”* He gave an awkward chuckle.
I tilted my head. That was the same laugh he used to use when I was growing up, when he surprised my grandmother with impromptu birthday trips, or when he didn’t want me to know that he’d bought me the bicycle I’d wanted for Christmas.
Like he had something to hide.
“That’s a suspicious chuckle.” I narrowed my eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” He grabbed his wallet and phone and led me outside. “You got my message, right? I made a booking for six thirty at Java Spice. We should go now if we don’t want to be late.”
“But we never have to book at Java Spice.” I unlocked my car. “You know Oom Tanujaya will always have a table for you.”
“It’s Sunday evening. He might be busy. Better safe than sorry.”
“Hmm.” Something was up, but I knew he would never admit to anything. “Rob sends his regards, by the way.”
Opa’s face lit up. “When did you see him? I sent him a link for a sale on woodworking tools yesterday. Did he say anything about that?”
“No.” I raised my eyebrows as I navigated the traffic. “You have Rob’s number?”
“We exchanged numbers when he came for dinner.”
Of course they did. Two outgoing extroverts who loved nothing more than making friends and meeting new people. Why was I even surprised?