Chapter 24
The smell of food cooking woke her.
Blinking, she stared up at the white ceiling and tried to remember where she was.
Hotel? Cabin?
Apartment. In New York. Right. Her apartment. Where she lived alone.
So who the heck was cooking food? And what were they cooking because it smelled really good.
She sat up and groaned as her head started thumping.
Ouch.
She stared down at herself, surprised to find she was wearing her pajama top without any bottoms. Why hadn’t she put on any bottoms? And why couldn’t she remember going to bed last night?
Also why did her mouth feel as dry and as nasty as a monkey’s butt?
Oh, God.
It rushed back to her. The exhibition. The stupid glass of champagne. She loved champagne. Unfortunately it had it in for her and she had no idea why.
So mean.
So how had she gotten home and into bed? There was only one person she could think of who would do all of that for her.
The one person she really didn’t want to show any vulnerability in front of.
Shit.
She sat and turned, letting her legs rest over the side of the bed. Then she noticed a bottle of water on the nightstand. Attached was a sticky note that said: Drink. There was also a packet of painkillers with another sticky note that said: Swallow.
Jeepers.
Part of her wanted to disobey those clear orders.
But she kind of thought that was just punishing herself. So she took the painkillers and headed into the bathroom to relieve her bladder and brush her teeth. Twice.
After washing her face and taking a shower, she got dressed in a comfortable velvet pink sweatpants and hoodie set, then stepped into the main living area of her apartment.
Where was he?
He had to be here, right? The apartment was filled with the smell of food and coffee.
Glorious, lovely coffee.
She headed to the coffee pot and poured herself some, adding a large dose of creamer.
“Wish you looked at me like that,” a deep voice said from behind her.
She jumped and nearly let go of the coffee mug.
Travis winced. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you knew I was in here.”
She bit her lip as she saw where he had been hiding.
In her pantry.
Bollocks.
How did she explain the overflowing pantry? It was more food than one person could go through in six months.
He was going to think she was crazy.
Maybe this is for the best. Now, you can really sever that tie. The fact that you walked out on him the other morning obviously wasn’t enough to make him want to stay away from you.
Well, this will likely do it.
“I hoard food,” she blurted out before he could say anything.
Best to just rip off the Band-aid, right?
His eyebrows rose.
Okay, obviously he wasn’t expecting her to just come out and say it like that. But he had to be wondering, right?
“That’s why there is so much food in my pantry.
You had to be wondering if I was preparing for the apocalypse or maybe a zombie invasion, right?
And in a way I kind of am and I’m kind of not.
See, I’m not like this all the time. Just when I get really stressed about stuff.
In fact, for years I was good, I could cope without hoarding.
I had a therapist, and techniques to use when the demands in my head became overwhelming.
But, somehow, that’s all gone out the window and I feel like I’ve gone back to square one and it’s fucking terrifying. ”
Shit.
Bloody hell.
Why didn’t she just go ahead and tell him her whole life story? Did she seriously just offload all of that on him? However, when she forced herself to look at him, he didn’t look freaked out. He seemed . . . concerned.
“Oh, baby. All the stress of the exhibition has caused this?” he asked.
“No, not just that. Most of it has to do with my mother, I think. And . . . also . . . well, other stuff.”
Like going back out on assignment. Or maybe never going again. Both options terrified her.
And then there were her feelings for this man that were so tangled up and confused. It was so hard to want someone this much and know they weren’t yours.
No matter how much you wanted them to be.
Obviously, he was attracted to her. But perhaps he didn’t want her because of their past. Maybe he couldn’t get over who she was.
“Other stuff? Am I part of that other stuff?” he asked.
Caren opened her mouth and then closed it. She hadn’t expected him to ask her that.
“I am, aren’t I? What happened the other night has been stressing you out. How much food have you bought since then?”
“I don’t . . . I don’t know.”
“Caren,” he said warningly. “No lies between us.”
“A few bags,” she said. “A day.” She winced.
“Shit, baby. You should have told me. I would have done something to help.” He ran his fingers through his short hair. “Except I’m the trigger, aren’t I?”
“It wasn’t just you,” she protested.
“But I was part of it. I shouldn’t have given you space. That’s where I went wrong. I should have been here the same day that you left my place, demanding that you see me.”
“Umm. I don’t know that—”
“That was where I went wrong.” Travis nodded. “So from now on, I give you no space.”
Her eyes grew wide in surprise. What the bloody hell was happening here?
“Travis, this isn’t all on you,” she said.
“You store food when you get stressed,” he murmured, not really listening to her. “Because you worry about food running out? Because when you grew up there wasn’t enough food in the cupboards.”
“Right,” she said quietly. “Because as a child I was constantly worried about whether there would be anything to eat. So when I could, I’d put food away in different places.
I don’t have to hide it anymore, well, I guess in a way I do.
I don’t want anyone else to see my pantry and drawers.
I haven’t gone as far as hiding it in my bedroom, at least. But yeah, I stock up because my body is in fight or flight mode from stress and this is my way of preparing myself for the risk that I perceive is coming. ”
Did that make sense?
He was scowling and grumbling something under his breath.
She took a deep breath. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
“What? Why would I think that?”
“You look upset.”
“With your fucking parents, never with you.” Moving toward her, he drew her into his chest and hugged her tight.
God.
He’d never know how much his hug meant. It was acceptance, warmth and safety all wrapped up in those big arms.
She leaned into him and he rested his chin on her head.
“That’s it, baby. Lean on me. Let me hold you up. I have you.”
But this wasn’t a good option for her. Because he wasn’t a permanent fixture in her life. And she had to cope on her own. To help herself.
So she forced herself to step back. He should know it all, right?
“I have other . . . coping mechanisms. Well, I’m not sure you’d call them that.
I have other things that I do to cope with the stress.
” She hugged herself, missing his arms. “I shower a lot and wash my clothes religiously. I never wear the same thing twice. In fact sometimes I change my clothes partway through the day even when they’re not dirty.
Thankfully, that doesn’t extend to shoes. ”
He stared at her a long moment before he started swearing. Wow. He knew a lot of swear words. And he used them very colorfully, too.
Walking away, he paced up and down her living room as she watched him.
Bollocks.
Maybe she shouldn’t have told him. Had she made a stupid mistake? He was going to know that she was a complete weirdo now. Although that was probably for the best.
He’d walk away now and she could get on with her life. Without him in it. Because this had only been a temporary thing anyway.
Whatever this was. Their friendship. Their . . . something else.
Then he spun to her and she took a half-step back. He frowned. Then he walked to her, this time moving slowly with his hands held out. As though he thought she might be scared of him.
That was so far from the truth . . .
“I’m not scared of you,” she told him bluntly.
“Good, because you’re the last person who should be scared of me.” He grasped hold of her hips and lifted her straight into the air.
Jeez, he was strong.
He set her down on the kitchen counter. Then he placed his hands on either side of her.
Déjà vu hit her and she knew that he was thinking the same thing as he smirked. “Now we can get back to that sort of fun later. I think we skipped a few steps that we need to take.”
Um, what?
Now she was confused.
“I know I’m intense,” he said in a soft voice as he cupped her chin with his hand. “I know that I’m bossy and maybe overwhelming. There will be times I do or say the wrong thing. You should never be scared to tell me anything, though.”
“You’re admitting that you get things wrong?” she said. “Are there pigs flying?”
“Ha-ha. I can admit when I’m wrong. It doesn’t happen often . . .”
She gave him a mock-punch to the chest and he pretended to stumble back, rubbing his chest. “Ouch. Vicious.”
Caren shook her head at him. “You’re crazy.”
“You’re beautiful.”
She sucked in a breath. “No, I’m not.” Her response was automatic. She wasn’t used to thinking about herself as beautiful.
“Yes, you are. If you saw yourself through my eyes, you’d see that you’re fucking stunning. You take my breath away. And you are not weird. You are not a burden or crazy or too much work. Or any of that shit that is likely going through your head.”
How did he know that she often worried she was all of those things?
The man could practically read her mind.
“Travis, it’s not normal to shower several times a day because you feel dirty.”
“And why do you feel dirty? Caren?” he pressed.