Chapter Six
After the whole grabbing-my-stuff thing, I was dropped off at the apartment with orders to stay either inside or in the office with his people until he got back.
Normally, I would bristle at instructions like that, but the fact of the matter was, I had nowhere else to be. So I brewed a pot of coffee and slowly unloaded all my boxes onto the kitchen counter, sorting them into piles.
I would say it felt good to have my things ‘after so long,’ but to me, it wasn’t so long.
It was a day. It was a day in my time, but the entire world was a year ahead of me.
My belongings were in storage. My bank account was out of reach.
I was completely and utterly dependent upon a man I barely knew who both intrigued and annoyed me.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t a good man; he was. In fact, he was better than most men I had met. He welcomed me into his home indefinitely. He told me to make myself at home. He helped me get my stuff. And he was going to try to get to the bottom of my mystery.
Without asking for anything in return.
Well, eventually, I figured I would have to pay him, but still.
So what if he was a bit inappropriate and a bit callous at times? It didn’t make him any less good.
But I mean, he smiled at the wrong times.
He hummed a freaking nineties female empowerment pop tune while I was in a snit. I wasn’t sure if he did it to try to lighten the mood or to further goad me.
There was a sudden banging on the door as I was carrying a pile of my clothes toward the washer/dryer combo I found in a closet in the hall. A surprised yelp escaped me as I dropped the pile of clothes, staring at the door like it might slam inward at any minute.
“Open up, smartass,” Brock’s voice called through the door, making me take a hesitant step back.
I was told to stay in the apartment or the office, but I wasn’t given instructions on who was allowed inside the apartment.
When I didn’t immediately open the door, he called again.
“Come on, Riya. I promise not to murder you in horrific ways.”
“That’s hardly reassuring,” I called back, smiling a little despite my slamming heart.
“Look, Slim decided to treat Sawyer’s desk chair as a chew toy, so he needs to get out of the office before he causes any more damage.”
As if on cue, Slim let out a loud whine.
With that, I moved across the floor and unlocked the door, realizing maybe a bit late that if he had come up to the door, he needed to punch in a code. And, well, if he knew the code to the first door, he likely knew the code to the inside door as well. So him knocking was simply a courtesy.
I pulled the door open to reveal a frustrated-looking Brock and a self-satisfied-looking Slim. As soon as the door opened, Slim flew inside.
“Is that coffee?” Brock asked, inviting himself in. I closed the door, leaning back against it as Brock easily moved through the kitchen, making coffee like he had done it a dozen times before. Maybe he had.
It was just about then that Slim moved, tail-wagging excitedly toward Brock, whose brows knitted as he reached down toward him. “What have you got there?” he asked, taking something from his mouth, his face breaking into a giant smile as he held up a small swatch of purple lace.
A pair of my panties.
“Hmm,” Brock said, holding them up toward me, like he was sizing them up to my body.
“Can you not…”
“Shh, trying to create a mental image here,” he said, nodding his head. “Oh, yeah. That’s a good look.”
“Oh my God,” I laughed, shaking my head as I stalked across the room and grabbed the panties from him. “You’re being childish.”
“I can assure you, Riya,” he said, smile wicked, “the thoughts I have right now are very much grown man thoughts.”
“Okay, perv,” I said, curling my panties into my palm and shaking my head at him. “I’m not looking for a fling right now.”
“No?” he asked, undeterred, charmingly persistent. “Honey, I can assure you, I can…”
“Drive a woman to throw you out buck-ass naked and shriek at you like a banshee?”
He chuckled at that, the sound low and rumbling. “I do tend to have that effect on women.” He shrugged off my rejection, obviously not the kind of guy to harp on it. “Friends then?”
“I could use some friends right about now.”
“I’ll bet. You know, I know Sawyer can seem like a prick at times, but he knows what he’s doing.
If anyone can figure this out, he can. You’re in good hands here.
And, you know, you have a vicious guard dog and everything,” he said, nodding his head at Slim, who was lying against the wall in the living room on his back, legs straight up in the air, tongue half out of his mouth.
“Oh yeah, he’s terrifying,” I agreed.
“Alright. So now I know you’re all safe, I am going to go earn my paycheck.”
“Taking pictures of cheating husbands?”
“It’s a glorious job,” he agreed, saluting me with his mug as he walked toward the door. “I’ll leave this on the bottom step for Sawyer,” he declared, heading out and closing the door behind him. “Lock this,” he demanded, and I crossed the floor to do just that.
I shook my head at the door, then went back and to collect the clothes I had dropped, washing and drying them so that when I showered, I had something clean to change into.
With nothing else to do with my day, I rummaged around in Sawyer’s cabinets, finding them surprisingly well stocked and not with typical man-food, meaning pre-cooked hunks of meat, leftovers, or deli meat. He had multiple vegetables, fruits, pastas, rices, and an array of spices.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. Sawyer seemed to have a great body. You didn’t get a great body by filling it up with crap all the time. But if I hadn’t already seen him standing in his kitchen cooking, I would have said he was completely incapable of that kind of domesticity.
I dug around in my box and found my iPod, loading it into Sawyer’s dock and trying to drown out the constant stream of worries, uncertainties, and fears swirling around my head as I made dinner.
The door slammed closed a couple of hours later, just as I was cleaning up the small mess I had made. Even over a crooning Joni Mitchell at a high decibel, I heard it and jumped, my eyes going to the door to see Sawyer standing there, watching me.
I quickly reached out to turn the music down, a little self-conscious of the fact that he likely heard me singing all the way up the stairs. Badly, I might add. I was a terrible singer.
“I see Brock was here,” he said, holding up the cup, and I felt myself smile. Apparently, that was a thing between them.
“You need to buy a new office chair,” I informed him. “Cujo over there thought it was yummy.”
His step didn’t even falter at that news as he walked into the kitchen and put the cup in the sink. “I’ve had to replace three armchairs since I got him. This shit just rolls right off me now,” he supplied, as if reading my thoughts. “You cook.”
“So do you, apparently.”
“Marg stocks my fridge,” he informed me, erasing the almost comical image I had of him pushing a shopping cart through a grocery store, trying to compare and contrast brands of pasta. “And when she’s particularly worried about my ‘bachelor lifestyle,’ she breaks in and cooks for me too.”
“Seriously?” I asked, smiling at the idea.
“Marg is a bit old school. She thinks all men need a woman to take care of them.”
“Right. Or else you might starve and never have any clean clothes,” I said, rolling my eyes.
He ignored that, hip-checking me out of the way and washing the rest of the dishes himself. “Those clothes suit you better,” he informed me as I checked inside the oven.
I felt myself start slightly at that, a little disarmed by the offhand compliment.
I looked down at my basic blue skinny jeans and the form fitting, but not overly tight, deep purple long sleeve tee.
I didn’t even bother to put shoes or socks on.
It was by no means a great outfit, which made the compliment even more unexpected.
“Oh, ah… thanks.”
“How long does that food have?” he asked, turning off the water and drying his hands.
“Another twenty or so. It’s veggie and ricotta-stuffed lasagne rolls,” I told him. “And a salad.”
“Wanna take Slim on a walk with me? You gotta be getting a little stir crazy up here.”
He wasn’t wrong. “Okay,” I said, trying not to sound too excited about the idea. “Let me just grab shoes.”
With that, I rummaged for socks and sneakers.
When I came back out, Slim was on his leash and sitting beside Sawyer, waiting.
Sawyer was holding out a black hoodie with white hood pulls.
“It’s cold,” he informed me as I a bit awkwardly let him help put it on.
Did men still do things like help you into jackets? Apparently, Sawyer did.
We went down the stairs and walked in somewhat tense silence for a few minutes before the need to know got the best of me. “Did you get my test results yet?”
Sawyer looked over at me, the streetlights casting half his face in shadow, making him look just a tad more dangerous. And, well, sexy. There was no denying that. The man was ridiculously good-looking.
“She texted to say she had a meeting and would call me after.”
I nodded at that, looking forward again. “What are you worried she might find?”
“You know, I’ve never been a particularly tense person. But since I woke up, I’ve just been a ball of nerves. It’s almost nauseating. I don’t even know what she could find, but I know I am anxious that it isn’t good.” I paused, shaking my head at myself. “It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid to wonder about where the fuck a year of your life went, babe. Actually, I would be worried if you weren’t worried. But we’ll eat, and I’ll take the call, and then we’ll talk about the results. Just gotta hang on another couple of hours.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re…” I started, then felt my foot catch a crack in the uneven sidewalk, sending me toppling forward as my stomach shot to my toes.
But before I could even throw my arms out to brace for a possible fall, a strong arm wrapped around my belly and hauled me back up.
My back met the warm, solid wall of Sawyer’s chest. “Whoa,” his voice said, low and relaxed, like he hadn’t just swooped in all knight-in-shining-armor-ish.
“You alright?” he asked, his breath warm on my ear, sending a shiver through my insides, settling with an almost unnerving fluttering sensation in my belly.
“Yeah,” I said, swallowing hard. “Thanks.”
I was steadily on my own two feet, but his arm stayed across my stomach, loosening enough that it wasn’t crushing, but still tight. His fingertips were pressing into the dip next to my hipbone. It was way, way too intimate. And it was having consequences of the less-than-innocent kind.
He held me for a long minute, Slim sitting down and looking at us, his head tilted.
Then he abruptly moved away from me, making me feel almost unsteady for a second. “Come on. Let’s eat,” he said, his voice a little tense.
Then we ate.
And then his phone rang.
One look at him confirmed that it was Ashley. His face went a little guarded as he reached for his cell.
“I’ll be back,” he said, sliding his hand across the screen. “Thanks for dinner,” he added on his way out the door.
Why he needed to take the call outside was beyond me, seeing as it was about me, but I figured maybe he had some questions that were indelicate and was worried about upsetting me.
So I put the leftovers away.
I cleaned.
I worried the floors.
Then I threw myself on the couch and tried to slow my heart, which seemed to beat harder with every passing second.
By the time the door opened and ushered in Sawyer, I had worried myself to sleep.