Chapter 9
T he next morning Celeste woke with a stretch and a yawn, feeling strangely at ease for someone who may or may not have a dead terrorist in her kitchen. Such was her life that she was calmer over the thought that he might have expired than that he might still be alive. If he was dead, a lot of her problems would solve themselves before they could begin.
She went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, smoothed her hair, then scowled at herself in the mirror. It’s not a date; it’s a custody arrangement. She was on babysitting duty until The Colonel figured out what to do with the guy. If The Colonel was out of options, things must really be a mess. The man knew people all over the world. If Paradise, Montana was his last resort, it was truly his last resort.
Rounding away from the mirror, she went down the stairs, pausing momentarily when the spot on the kitchen floor was empty. She’d brought her gun because, again, one could never be too careful, especially with an unknown man in the house.
“I’m positive you won’t have to use that,” a quiet, polite voice said. She eased farther into the room and saw him sitting on the floor, his back propped against the outside wall of the kitchen. Beside him, the glass of water was empty, the apple core tucked neatly inside it. “Thank you for the food and water and, I assume, the cleanup.” He motioned lethargically to his shoulder.
“You’re welcome.” In contrast to his surprisingly gentle tone, hers sounded rough and forced, which it was. She was used to bawdy conversations with fellow soldiers, the more ridiculous, the better. Civil discourse escaped her. They stared at each other a few beats. Celeste had the idea she should probably do something, but she had no idea what. She had never taken care of anything or anyone before, not a plant, not a pet, and certainly not a person. Five minutes in and she was already failing.
More water, her brain told her. He must be thirsty and probably hungry. She edged forward, keeping a wary eye on him, as she bent over and picked up the water, carrying it to the sink. She retrieved a clean glass, filled it, and set it on the floor beside him.
“Thank you,” he said. He had watched her actions as intently as she watched his, each not a hundred percent certain they trusted the other but left with no other option than to do so, at least for the moment.
“Food?” she asked.
“If you’d be so kind,” he said.
Kind had never been a word people used in reference to her. “I only have cereal,” she warned, wincing inwardly when she felt the need to add, “It’s pretty much all I know how to make.”
“Cereal would be fine though, I must confess, anything would be fine at this point.”
She prepared a bowl of cereal and milk for each of them and dallied, not certain where to put his. “Do you want me to help you to the table?”
“It seemed to take all of my energy to crawl to this spot, so I think I’ll remain for now. Perhaps after I eat things will look brighter.”
With a nod, she sat at the table and ate, trying to ignore the stranger in the room who watched her between bites. He finished his cereal and set the bowl aside.
“You must have questions,” he declared.
“Only one,” she said.
One side of his mouth quirked. “Only one? Miraculous. Please,” he motioned feebly for her to proceed.
“What’s your name?”
“Sam,” he said.
She blinked at him, waiting for more.
His mouth ticked again. “You don’t think I look like a Sam? Do you think it’s a nickname for some unpronounceable foreign name?”
She said nothing.
He gave a tiny shrug and winced with remembered regret. “It’s Din Chatti. I prefer Sam. And what shall I call you?”
A thousand saucy replies ran through her mind. She disregarded them all. “Celeste.”
“How very heavenly,” he said.
“You have no idea,” she replied. She carried both their bowls to the sink and returned to him, hands on hips. “Let’s get you set up on the couch. It came with the house, but I think it will be a lot more comfortable than the floor.” When he didn’t argue, she came along his good side, levered him up, and took as much of his weight as she could on the short journey to the living room. Still, the trip exhausted them both. Celeste dabbed her forearm on her sweaty head. “You’re heavier than you look.”
“You’re stronger than you look,” he replied.
“Next time I’ll sweep you into my arms, pull out all the stops,” she promised.
He snorted a laugh that ended on a wince. Celeste regarded him, out of ideas on what to do next. The day stretched endlessly before her, awkward in the extreme with this stranger invading what she had come to think of as her own private oasis. “I should probably go to town for more supplies.” There was no need to tell him she had just gone to town yesterday and vowed not to do so again for a long, long time. Plus with him eating her meager stores, she actually did need more food.
He gave a curt nod in reply. The beads of sweat on his upper lip told her he was probably in a fare amount of pain.
“What can I get you? Besides pain reliever, of course.” How did she not have any on hand? Because I didn’t think of it. She wasn’t even good at taking care of herself, let alone others.
“Nothing comes to mind,” he said between gritted teeth.
“Unfortunately I haven’t had a landline put in and I’ll be taking my cell with me. I don’t suppose you have a phone.”
“It didn’t survive the journey,” he said.
Journey from where? She wanted to ask but didn’t. The less she knew, the better. Soon enough he would be on his way. She didn’t want to have to wonder about him when he was gone. Not that she was in danger of becoming attached. It seemed to be one more thing that was deficient about her, the inability to form lasting relationships with others, save The Colonel who had more than earned her trust and loyalty.
“I’ll be fine,” he added, making her realize she was staring at him as she thought about her dismal life.
Without a word, she spun, grabbed her keys, and headed to her truck. Unlike yesterday, going to town now felt like a reprieve. Maybe today would be better. Maybe yesterday they had all gotten their fill of staring at the new girl like she was a freak. Whatever the case, she absolutely could not let on that she now had a houseguest. That was a way to get them both killed. Word would get out and then every assassin in the known universe would come calling. Celeste really didn’t want to have to spend the beginning of her retirement dispatching unwanted annoyances and dodging their bullets in return.
Then again, it would be a handy way to fill days that were already long and empty, a good way to distract a mind that wanted to do anything but heal.
Pushing away thoughts and feelings again, she focused on the looming town, on Paradise.