Chapter 3 Lucy
THREE
Lucy
PRESENT DAY
The first thing I notice as I step inside Miles’ house is that it smells fresh—like the guy knows his way around some cleaning products.
The entrance is perfectly organized—not a single thing out of place. There is a line of coat hooks on the wall, with a shoe bench and baskets below it. There are smaller black hooks that hold two different sets of keys.
I didn’t see a car in front of the house, but there’s an attached double-car garage, so his vehicle must be parked inside.
The area is so orderly that I know Willa would approve.
I’m a little sad that Willa and I can’t live together, but we butted heads, growing up.
Now that we don’t live together, we’re great friends, and I want to keep it that way.
I had to work extra hard to salvage our relationship while our parents’ marriage imploded.
And I’m so grateful we were able to grow closer rather than fall apart.
But it’s still fragile territory. We were not raised in a happy home.
There are a lot of people you can love deeply but be perfectly happy not living with. I just hope the opposite is true of Miles. I’d rather happily live with Miles than fall in love with him.
But now…looking around, I’m a little scared I’ve decided to move in with the male version of my sister. Everything has a place.
Miles steps inside after me and shuts the door firmly. The lock beeps cheerfully.
I watch as he shakes out his T-shirt and slips it on, which is sort of ironic since it’s so warm in here.
Shaking my head, I focus on the entryway.
It’s a nice hallway, leading into the open-concept living room and kitchen.
I look everywhere except at Miles’s face.
I’m afraid he’ll see the hesitation there.
This place is gorgeous. He could charge me triple the price he quoted me.
“Well, what do you think, roomie?” Miles asks with a laugh as he bends down to untie his running shoes.
I snap my jaw closed and try to think of an answer. “You know, I’m realizing that maybe I should have looked around here before I agreed to this. What if I find something scary in this house?”
“It’s okay. I keep the door to my murder dungeon locked.”
I turn slowly to stare at him with wide eyes, fighting a smile.
“Just kidding. Maybe.” Miles winks, and my urge to smile grows.
“I’m going to just pretend like you didn’t say that, mmkay?”
He has the decency to look slightly embarrassed as he turns around to put away his shoes. “I’ll show you the room if you want.”
“Which room?” I ask suspiciously as I point at the ground and mouth, “The dungeon?”
Miles grins, and I realize it’s infectious. “I meant the room that will be yours.” He pauses as he looks at my shaking arms, which are covered in goose bumps. “Or I can make us a hot pot of coffee first? You look like you need to warm up.”
I nod quickly at that. I stood on that front porch for a long time, wallowing in my crisis of wondering if I was walking into my own murder.
A hot cup of coffee does sound nice.
Besides, if I go look at the room that would be mine, it will feel like I’m definitely committing to staying here.
Never mind the fact that I’m carrying a bag full of clothes and the rest of my stuff is in my car.
If I say I like the room, that means I’m committed to staying. It’s like signing on a dotted line.
Miles and I really don’t know each other.
We have mutual acquaintances—my sister and her boss—and a sweet woman named Margaret.
My sister introduced me to Margaret, the woman who seems to know everybody in town.
We even spent some time at Margaret’s house during her famous game nights she hosts.
And it was Margaret who suggested Miles and I be roommates since he lives alone and is hardly ever here.
Miles texted me and told me that he had an extra room at his house and that I was welcome to move in and be his roommate. The rest is history.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he walks to the kitchen and gets a glass of water from the sink.
I’m still frozen in place, so I kick off my tennis shoes, push them to the side of the entryway, and follow him into the kitchen, still carrying my giant duffel.
“You can just toss that on the couch if you want,” he suggests.
I make my way into the living room. There’s a small brown couch with throw pillows and then a big L-shaped one, which faces a large TV that’s easily visible from the open-concept kitchen. The TV is the size of a small island and probably has its own zip code.
There’s a window that overlooks the front yard, and there are even curtains hanging up.
I was not expecting a bachelor’s house to be so…cozy.
Miles’s movements fall silent, and I glance over my shoulder to see that he’s drinking the tall glass of water. I didn’t realize that an Adam’s apple moved with each swallow—or that a neck had muscles. Why is it so hard to take my eyes off him?
Miles sets the glass down with a clink, and I jerk my head around so that he doesn’t catch me staring at his neck like a creep.
Maybe he should be concerned about having me as a roommate if I’m going to be busy ogling his neck, of all things.
“So,” he says, as he gets some coffee creamer out of the fridge, “are you ready to start work on Monday?”
Right. My work at the veterinary clinic is one of the main reasons I moved here.
“Oh, I guess so. I think I’m nervous, actually.” I toss my bag on the couch, then walk back to the kitchen. “How did you know I start on Monday?”
“I talked to Willa at the office. She said you were starting right away.” He looks at me with shrewd eyes as he closes the fridge door slowly.
I’d almost forgotten that he works with my sister at Kappa Holdings.
Miles is part owner of of the company along with Willa’s boss and sort-of boyfriend, Kingston.
“I got the idea that she doesn’t know you’re moving in with me. ”
I try to keep the surprise from my face as I ask him, “Did you tell her?”
He grins. “Are you gonna be in trouble if I do?”
“You enjoy a little chaos, don’t you?” I smirk as I sink down onto one of the comfortable barstools.
“I mentioned something to her the other day about you moving soon, and she said she hoped you could find a place quickly. That was after we texted and you said you would live here…”
The coffeepot spits out the most delicious-smelling coffee, and I realize he must have had it set on a timer because he hasn’t even touched the pot since we walked in. The trickle of hot water is the only sound in the house for a few seconds as Miles studies my face, waiting for an explanation.
“It’s not so much that I’d be in trouble with Willa…but I’d be in trouble.” I smile sheepishly.
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” He rests both hands on the countertop, and I note that he has really nice forearms.
“Willa wants me to live with her. In fact, she was a little offended that I’d found my own place.
Her apartment is tiny and even she said we would never fit, but I think deep down she was hoping we would live together.
She knows I found a place, but I haven’t had the time to tell her where I found that place.
So, I’m just hoping she’ll be able to hear it from me. Otherwise, I will be in big trouble.”
Miles laughs. “You mean you don’t want to be at her apartment when Kingston’s over there, hanging out?”
I shudder. “More like I’m scared she’ll get me on some scary, efficient schedule. She’d have me ironing my socks or something horrific like that.”
Miles chuckles, and I rush on to add, “I love my sister—don’t get me wrong—but we get along a lot better now that we don’t live together.” I clear my throat. “And, wow, I’m really babbling. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” There’s a trace of humor in his deep voice as he grabs a couple of mugs out of the cupboard. “It’s good for us to get to know each other since we’ll be living together. And now I know I won’t have to arrange my sock ironing schedule around yours.”
He pours the coffee into the mugs, and I stare at his tense shoulders.
“I sincerely hope you’re joking right now.”
He glances up at me and winks. “I promise I only iron my boxers, not my socks.”
I raise my eyebrows and look at him. “Umm, are you really talking about ironing underwear right now?”
He grins, and a little dimple pops up on his cheek. “It’s okay. Sometimes, I go commando.” His bright smile makes this conversation feel almost normal. Almost.
“Oh, I do too,” I fire back, but it sounds petulant rather than smart.
His eyebrows shoot up at that. “I guess we won’t have to worry about that ironing schedule then.”
He sets a cup filled with coffee in front of me. It’s small, floral, and very cute.
Miles leans back against the counter and studies me for a minute before he asks, “Do you have any questions for me?”
Reaching for the mug, I pull it closer and realize the adorable thing has a fatal flaw—the handle is too small. Rather than pick it up right then, I run a finger around the rim as I debate what I should ask first. “Do you have a predisposition to murder people in their sleep?”
Miles’s eyes widen, and then he runs a hand over his face, as though he’s thinking about the answer. “You know, I’ve never experienced that urge. But there’s still time.”
I chuckle. Okay, so this could work, I think.
It could definitely work. He’s got a great sense of humor. I don’t get a creepy feeling about him. And he’s able to take a joke. Plus, he does not iron his socks or his boxers—at least, I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s teasing about that.
“Do you have any other questions for me?”
“I don’t know. I guess…Do you have any random house rules I should know about?”
“Curfew’s at nine,” he says with a completely straight face.
I narrow my eyes and give him my best unimpressed look. “I’ve never had a curfew.”
His eyes bulge at that. “Sheesh. Lucky you. My mom was a stickler for it.”
My mom didn’t care where we went, I thought to myself.