Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Elle
HOW IN THE WORLD DID the most significant emotional blow of my life land me in another man’s house?
The inside of the bedroom door listened intently to my inner thoughts while I stood frozen, staring at it.
When we had arrived at Austin’s house, I’d expected a messy bachelor pad, riddled with piles of dirty laundry, dishes overflowing from the sink, and an unrecognizable smell—much like Jesse’s apartment.
Instead, I’d stepped into a retreat. A storybook setting, of sorts. Not a hint of bachelor life in sight.
Bachelor was likely an understatement, considering how Chief Carterson’s impressive height and eyes alone could execute whoever they landed on. Throw in the uniform, and he could have been married yesterday.
If he were flying solo, it was by choice.
Austin’s invitation for me to stay at his place had told me he lived alone.
That didn’t stop me from double-checking the back seat of his Jeep for a car seat or left hand for a ring.
The last thing I needed to do was accidentally disrespect a wife or girlfriend.
The unfortunate scenario had just happened to me.
I’d never throw that indescribably shitty feeling at another woman.
At anyone, for that matter.
When my host for the night had removed his uniform cap upon our arrival, his rich brown hair had been set free. Funny, his hairstyle was the opposite of Jesse’s—shaved tight to his scalp on the sides while remaining just long enough on the top to hold a few waves.
A sneaking suspicion told me the rest of Chief Carterson was far less manicured.
Hard to pinpoint exactly why, but he seemed less particular about himself than Jesse ever was. More rugged. Natural. He didn’t have time to stare into the mirror every time he passed one because he was busy with other things.
Like helping me.
I’d been so excited to see Jesse in Chief Carterson’s getup, with a classic military fade and the swagger that came along with it. However, picturing him in the uniform instead of Austin now made me want to throw up. He didn’t deserve my nausea.
He absolutely wouldn’t play a part in any more of my fantasies.
After a slight delay, Austin’s retreating footsteps disappeared down the hallway, alerting me that I was alone—free to explore my new surroundings.
I unpeeled my purse’s strap from my chest and placed it on the edge of the bed.
The thickest, smoothest, whitest duvet cover and matching pillows I’d ever seen topped the full-sized mattress.
My idea of heaven.
Dominated by a wrought-iron bed frame and a tall gold-rimmed mirror hanging across from it, the space’s modest size and the long wooden beams jutting across the ceiling only accentuated its charm.
Lace curtains covered the window, overlooking a wooden shed and an overgrown hydrangea plant.
Its periwinkle blooms, which reminded me of cotton candy, were easily seen from across the room.
Their allure drew me in.
Cotton candy reminds me of the fair; fairs make me happy; Jesse used to make me happy … I thought.
Ruthie would not approve of my inner monologue. My head shook back and forth because neither did I.
Time and rest were the only antidotes that had a fighting chance of curbing my addiction to Jesse and the future I’d thought we had.
Fortunately, time and rest were my only resources for the evening because the rest of my life was back at the hotel.
No pajamas, no toiletries, and no Jesse.
Just me, my bleeding heart, and a protective sort of stranger down the hall.
My ass sank onto the bed, and my nose burrowed into my palms. The sobs I’d fought hard to contain were released.
Not only had Jesse left me, but he’d left me so stranded that another man had to swoop in and clean up his mess.
A tight wad of condolences for my wasted energy and dedication over the last few months gathered in my throat.
Where did we go wrong?
I let the tears flow until none remained.
Ten minutes later, I slowly rose from the ashes of my sorrow, reached around to the back of my sweater, and unclasped my bra through the material. The tension that released from my ribs and chest felt like freedom.
Freedom to breathe.
A narrow door by the window led me into a bathroom with a shower and the porcelain claw-foot bathtub of my dreams. It sure beat the mold-kissed bathroom tiles back at the hotel.
Hell of an improvement …
Triggered by my walking over the threshold, a row of auto-sensing lights illuminated the base of the basin. Invitingly, the amber glow welcomed me deeper into the moody scene like a hug with open arms.
I stripped down to nothing while contemplating bathing in the tub like a queen whose kingdom had just fallen.
What I needed though was to wash my future with Jesse down the drain and hop into the bed calling my name so the day would finally fucking end.
The shower would have to do. I ran the water for a moment to let it warm and stepped inside.
Steaming water splashed my skin while I stared, puzzled, at the eucalyptus hanging from the showerhead.
The scent, overflowing from the rising steam cloud, enveloped me.
It was calming and earthy, and I vowed to replicate it back home because it felt like a damn spa treatment.
Stubborn tension oozed from my shoulders and neck, vanishing instantly. My God, it was therapeutic.
High-end shampoo, conditioner, and a brand-new razor stared at me from the shower sill as I scrubbed my skin. Lather from the apple-scented soap bar I’d found dripped down my body and mixed with my curiosities before racing toward the drain.
Was Austin used to women staying the night? Why else would these curated comforts be here?
Screw it.
I was only here for one night. No stray thought could stop me from smelling like an organic Granny Smith and herbs from the farmers market.
After an unreasonable amount of time exploring Austin’s shower, I sat and curled into a folded ball, feeling defeated and confused as the water drenched my face, chest, and legs. At least I was clean.
I tried to cry—again—but no tears remained. If I had to guess, they were too busy rebuilding my self-esteem to show.
Regardless of Jesse’s justification when I talked to him, not an ounce of his reasoning would mean that something was wrong with me or the way I loved him. I had to hammer that into my conscience with everything I had left. If I didn’t, it would break me.
Despite my doubts before he left, I’d given him my all and stayed committed because I knew he was human and that humans weren’t perfect. That was what made them unique. Beautiful even.
Jesse was no longer the beautifully imperfect human I had known. He was something far worse.
He was a liar.
And a coward who couldn’t even own up to it.
When the hot water expired, I found a towel folded neatly on a stool nearby and wrapped myself in the only thing that would hold my body for the night. The thought was unequivocally depressing.
Mostly dry, I walked back into the bedroom and over to the closet, leaving a path of moist footprints behind. I wasn’t one to snoop, but borrowing whatever clean clothes might be available to wear to bed instead of putting my dirty outfit back on sounded acceptable. Austin wouldn’t mind, I assumed.
A row of perfectly pressed T-shirts and a collection of uniforms faced me when I slid open the closet door. Boots, dress shoes, and a few pairs of sneakers lined the bottom of the space while several stacks of folded boxer shorts and other accessories sat high on the top shelf.
Am I at the dry cleaners?
Austin knew how to do laundry as if it were his job, obviously.
Either that or he had a full-time housekeeper, and she really had taken the day off …
I peeled an extra-large white T-shirt from the farthest hanger, slid it over my head, and inhaled as it rolled down my back and chest. A scent so fresh, so fucking manly, smacked me in the nose.
The triple threat of spearmint, sage, and sandalwood almost brought me to my knees.
Whatever detergent Austin washed his clothes with was mature.
Sophisticated, unlike the headache-promising body spray Jesse wore.
My heels left the floor while I balanced on my tiptoes, grabbing for a pair of boxers on a shelf just out of my reach. They were way too big. However, being naked from the waist down in someone else’s house didn’t sit right with me.
Ruthie would call me a pussy for that.
Embracing my morals, I pulled the shorts up my legs and knotted them on one side, securing the waistband around my hips.
When I turned, my reflection in the mirror across the room showed me a version of myself that resembled a kid playing dress-up—a far stretch from the lingerie and orgasms I expected to be knee deep in by now.
Unexpectedly, a dizzy spell shifted my focus. Ouch. I gripped the edge of the closet door to steady myself. Tension headaches weren’t new to me, so I knew it would only intensify if I didn’t eat or drink something soon.
Should I sneak into the kitchen and at least grab some water or attempt to find something sweet to keep it in check?
Austin was probably showering or relaxing in his room.
My gurgling stomach told me it was a risk worth taking.
Optimistic, I went to the door, jiggled the handle, and pushed it open. There was a porcelain clunk, and something solid on the ground prevented it from fully opening. Peering around the door, my eyes landed on two glasses and a large plate on the ground. An appreciative grin painted my face.
A dish with a chicken salad sandwich, sliced pineapple, and two glasses tempted me.
I snatched them like a raccoon ravaging a dumpster and retreated to the bed to devour every bite.
The sandwich was delicious, but not as delicious as the nutty amber liquid that followed my first bite.
Tequila was my liquor of choice, but the whiskey went down just as smoothly.
The ice water in the second glass was a welcome counterpart.
My skull thanked it for dialing back the throbbing pain pummeling my forehead.
After finishing my feast, I gathered my mess and headed for the kitchen, unable to decorate such a pretty bedroom with dirty dishes for the night. No, I wasn’t in the mood to chitchat, per se, but my mother had taught me to always be a good houseguest, which meant cleaning up after myself.
What made a terrible houseguest though was sneaking into someone else’s kitchen while wearing their stolen—or should I say, borrowed—clothes. At least that’s what she’d tell me.
“Shit!” I shrieked.
Everything in my hands dropped to the floor, shattering Austin’s concentration.
No, I wasn’t surprised to see him in his own house.
What shocked my nervous system was his massive, shirtless silhouette, accentuated by the endless nautical tattoos that climbed up his arm, wrapping around his shoulder blade.
He turned toward me. His uniform had covered most of his body earlier.
Nothing from the waist up was concealed anymore.
Appearing swollen, his bicep and trap muscles bulged—muscles apparently made of steel because supporting arms and a back of that capacity was a full-time job, plus overtime.
His body wasn’t the kind sported by heartthrobs in the ’90s.
It was the kind that chopped wood in the wintertime and threw around bales of hay like they were made of papier-maché.
Holy shit pulsed through my veins.
What the hell had crawled up my spine? It felt like a mix of chills and something else I couldn’t put my finger on. Whatever the zing was monkeyed around to my front and perked up my nipples, leaving them on full display through the shirt that struggled to contain them.
“Fuck. I’m sorry I … I thought you’d be asleep by now,” Austin explained, placing the bottle of whatever he had been pouring onto the counter.
His deep voice reached into my stomach. Austin’s body further rotated to face mine. His expression stayed neutral. His flushed cheeks when he noticed my impromptu pajamas gave away his amusement.
“I’m happy you found some clothes. Help yourself to anything in the house to get you through until we can grab your stuff tomorrow.” He smiled, though something prohibited it from reaching its full capacity.
“Yeah, I, uh … I didn’t think you’d mind,” I uttered, crossing my arms against my chest in a poor attempt to hide my erect tits.
“Trust me, I don’t mind. They look better on you anyway.”
A long-winded swallow strangled my response. He was just being a good host.
That was all.
“Let me clean up my mess before one of us steps on a piece of glass,” I offered, sinking to the floor and rounding up the broken ceramic shards that stung my fingertips with each gentle pass.
“Absolutely not,” he said. Austin shuffled toward me. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like you to get some rest and let me pick up the pieces tonight. You’ve been through enough today.”
His words were not a suggestion. They were a command, camouflaged in kindness. I could see it in the veins climbing his neck, pulsing with every second longer my pause stretched.
“Are you sure? You shouldn’t have to do that. I mean, you already made me dinner. I don’t mind …”
Could his eyes talk? Because I swore those sage fields spoke to me.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have to, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” His confession was practically verbal therapy, stealing my ability to look away. “Go get some sleep. We’ll make a plan in the morning to get your things.”
I nodded, quickly agreeing to honor his wishes before turning away.
“Thank you again for everything. I hope you have a good night,” I added over my shoulder. “Pretend like I’m not even here. I’ll try not to make any more messes for you to clean up …” I released a chuckle.
The silence that followed did something to me.
Had he taken my words at face value? Or was he overthinking them? Accepting his lack of response as my signal, I retreated to bed and left him alone.
I was used to cleaning up Jesse’s messes, not the other way around.
Boy, did it feel nice to have someone clean up mine for once.