Chapter 4
KAEDE
The living room has never been this clean. Every surface gleams in the overhead light. I’m almost creeped out that she’s been that close to everything I own. Will it still smell like her when she’s gone?
I moved in two years ago after retiring from the military.
I did my fifteen and then I needed to move on.
Most would have stuck it out for the full twenty-years retirement, but I couldn’t.
Two tours had effects on me that I hadn’t planned for.
No matter what the literature said, videos showed, and seminars indicated, it’s now clear— a soldier is never really prepared.
“What the hell did you do to my home?” I stick my head into the bathroom. “And in the bathroom!”
It’s sparkling, almost too clean. It doesn’t feel like my home.
I’m not dirty… okay, I’m not Mr. Clean, but a little dirt never hurt anyone.
Never been sick a day in my life. I justify that it’s good for the immune system.
I walk to my desk. Nothing has been disturbed and my stomach unclenches.
My leather pieces are all in their place and my tools are chaotic as always.
The containers stacked and in order. Just the way I left them.
But the kitchen.
I walk in and it looks brand new. I open the oven and years of living is erased. I didn’t even know you could clean it back to the original shine.
I know my house, and this doesn’t feel like my house. I open the cupboards and my head pounds.She fucking alphabetized my seasonings?
Who does that?
“I thought I would be staying here for a while and I don’t like… dirt.” Her voice makes me turn.
I step back and motion at the level of crazy this woman might be. “Alphabetized?”
“Now you can find what you need when you need it at a glance. Allspice. Cumin.” She lifts it. “Basil. Thyme.” She points. “Easy-peasy.”
I shake my head. First, she invades my home and then she takes to making it hers? Who does she think she is? As adorable as I might think she looks, I’m not thrilled with her actions and no amount of furry pink teddy is going to make up for this.
She struggles with her suitcase and I don’t know if I should help her or just watch her walk away. The thought of the latter makes me a little grumpy. Her presence makes me feel things I haven’t before. And it’s not annoyed or frustrated. I’m fascinated by her. Truly intrigued.
“Do you want some help with that?”
“No, thank you. I got it in here just fine.”
The suitcase is as big as I am.
“Just how long were you planning to stay here?” I walk alongside as she acts like the Hunchback of Notre Dame with how she’s lugging it along.
“Four nights.”
I hang back as she waddles with the suitcase between her legs, her leggings doing fantastic things to showcase her ass.
My cock wants to make himself known, but I try to concentrate on what’s happening in front of me, not inside of me. Down boy.
“And you brought a suitcase the size of a VW Bug forfivedays? I’d barely need a backpack.”
“On that note. I’m done here. It was nice cleaning your house for you. Bye, Kaede.”
The front door closes and the silence is oddly… thunderous. Her joyful laughs and snarky snips are missing.
I slip to the front window, being careful not to let her see me. She struggles in the couple of inches of snow and her boots slip a little. I flip on the outside light and it creates sparkles on the new snow.
Just go help her. You know you want to.
That voice in my head, the one that’s been gone since I moved in here —the one who spoke when I was in danger— is back, and I don’t like him. He’s bossy. Kind of like the pint-sized woman outside. But I don’t understand what kind of danger I’m in right now.
She almost takes a tumble and her purse goes flying.
“Jesus, woman, you’re going to get hurt.” I grab my muck boots and I’m at her side in less than thirty seconds. “Let me help you.”
“If you insist.” She seems to welcome the help with very little resistance, and I wonder if I’ve been played like a chump.
“Seems if I want you gone, and before tomorrow, I need to.” I lift the suitcase. “What the hell do you have in here?”
“Just shoes and clothing.”
“How many pairs of shoes?”
“That’s for me to know and you to never find out.”
I chuckle. “Five?”
Her face stays still.
“Ten?” One eyebrow goes up.
She puts her hands on her waist, cinching in her wool coat until it flares out.
“More?” I ask, skeptically.
“Just put the suitcase in the back of the car, Mr. Twenty Questions.” She holds up the keys. “I forgot my snacks in the cabin. Can you start my car to get it warm and I’ll run in and grab them?”
I examine the tin-can of a car. “You think I’m going to fit in there?”
“Just start it. I’m not asking for you to drive it anywhere.”
Snowflakes start dusting the air. I briefly consider inviting her to stay.
She’ll be in a cabin by herself for days, if I don’t.
I look at my phone. The forecast wasn’t showing snow hours ago when I was in Helena to drop off some of my leather goods at the store, but that’s Montana weather— changes faster than the second hand on a clock.
The front door closes.
I reach in and stick the key in the ignition, step a boot on the brake, contorting my body to avoid becoming a call to 911 for a man stuck in a car, and I turn the key…
And nothing.
I try it again.
Nothing.
“Is there something wrong?” she asks behind me and I slip carefully out of the car.
I could probably give her car a jump, but where’s the fun in that.
“Nope. You’re staying here, honey.”