Chapter 20
Harlyn
Boone’s car is surprisingly warm, considering the cooler temperature outside. It’s pretty clean, but he still shuffles a few small pieces of paper around that look like receipts and other bits of trash from the open center console.
I would tell him not to bother, but he finishes before I have the chance.
The first ten minutes are quiet. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I’m sure he’s just as conflicted as I am about taking me to his house.
Maybe not for the same reasons, but the truth is we just met, and not that anything with me would ever be conventional considering my life, but not very many people would be willing to bring a girl with a killer stalker to their home.
“Boone,” I start after what feels like the hundredth attempt, “just listen, please. I get that this is what you do, and you feel an obligation to help me, but I just don’t think it will end well.
I want your help—need your help, really, but I don’t want to intrude on your life.
” I think he’s actually listening for the first time when he doesn’t immediately shut me down, so I continue.
“I’m sure there’s a hotel nearby where I can be out of your hair and—”
“Why don’t you want to stay with me?” He glances over at me in the passenger seat before slowing the car and turning into an apartment complex. I’m too busy staring at the side of his face to notice much more than some short brown buildings and the vague notion of uniformly spaced balconies.
“Because I don’t want to take over your life.”
He angles his car into a spot right in front of a building before sitting back in his seat and saying, “What life? I work and come home. I work some more and, oh yeah, work, so what’s next?”
“What’s next?”
“Why else don’t you want to stay here with me?” He motions toward the windshield, pointing at the complex in front of us. He’s so calm and reasonable. He makes it hard to argue, even if it’s for his own good.
“You could end up dead.”
He tips his head back and has the nerve to sigh. “We already went over that. Next.”
I get irritated and start to lose steam at the same time—it’s a weird mix of emotions. “How do you see this playing out, Boone? What if you don’t catch this guy in a month or six? What then? Do I just live with you forever?”
“That depends on if you keep cooking for me.” I think he’s joking, but I’m not really sure since he seems so serious. “Hell, I’d let you stay even if you didn’t.”
“I’m being serious,” I snap.
“Next,” he counters with a slow blink.
I let out a sound that is half growl, half huff. “I like you, could really like you, and I don’t want to ruin that with this.” I flap my hand around my body in a sure sign of frustration.
“Would you rather be alone in a hotel room?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “And don’t lie. I will know.”
I narrow my eyes at the warning. “That’s a dumb question.”
“Are you afraid to be alone in my apartment with me?” His brows shift high on his forehead as if he’s reminding me not to lie.
“No,” I scoff.
“One final chance. Tell me exactly why you don’t want to stay with me.
” The way he’s sitting, looking at me, and speaking is challenging, yet he’s utterly calm like he already knows the outcome, and he’s just waiting on me to reach the same conclusion.
I’m not sure how to respond, so we end up in a staring match.
Eventually, he lowers his arms and takes the key out of the ignition.
“I’m not going to keep you unwillingly. This isn’t me taking over your life either.
This is me taking care of you the best way I know how—someone I like.
I get this may not be the standard for dating or getting to know someone, but I can’t think of anywhere else I would rather you be, and it isn’t just about what we are dealing with.
If circumstances were completely different, I would still have pursued this.
Now I just have a damn good reason to move it along faster. ”
I still don’t know what to say, so I remain quiet.
His words haven’t magically erased my concerns, but the truth is, I don’t care about doing things the standard way.
I don’t care if we move fast. I only care if he does.
“I’ll cook,” ends up being my response, and it seems like it’s enough for right now, because Boone gives me a rather sweet smile in return.
When he opens his door, I follow suit and meet him around the rear of the vehicle where he retrieves his bags.
I don’t offer to help this time because he clearly didn’t like it when I did it before.
I get my first good look around as we head up a wide sidewalk.
All the buildings are brick with black trim around the windows and doors.
The inset balconies have matching metal railings.
It’s different than the softly hued apartments I’m used to in Texas, more modern but really nice.
The grounds are a lush green like I’m accustomed to seeing in the spring, but I don’t think it gets nearly as hot or as dry here as it does back home.
We pass through a curved archway that’s made of a lighter stone before stepping through a glass door into a little vestibule. There is a row of buttons next to apartment numbers and a keyless entry system attached to the door.
Boone waves his keys near the black box. The red light flashes to green, and I hear a soft beep. The added security is a nice touch. He shoves the door open and motions for me to go ahead of him. “We’re in the penthouse,” he says after following me in.
We pass two units, one on the left and one on the right, before reaching the elevator. Down the hall, there seems to be two more units. It’s as neat as a pin and sparce, other than the simple architectural black and white photos hanging on the white walls.
“This place must be pretty new,” I comment as the elevator dings in arrival.
“Seven years or so. I’ve been here for three.” He waves me ahead of him.
“It’s really well taken care of.”
As soon as the door closes, Boone looks down at me. “Nervous, huh?”
“No,” I lie shamefully, which makes him grin.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an open book?”
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “My granny, but she had an unfair advantage.”
“Eyes?” Boone teases as the elevator door opens to the fourth floor.
“She was actually blind.”
Boone freezes mid-step and snaps his head in my direction. I roll my lips in to keep from smiling, but I already know he’s onto me.
“You little liar,” he accuses with his mouth hanging open.
I step into his space and shimmy past his frozen form. I’m so focused on Boone, I don’t notice there’s a man in the hall until he speaks, calling out Boone’s name, causing me to spin around abruptly and back up into Boone until my butt hits his body, and he lets out an “oof” sound.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” The man looks at me quizzically. I feel like my reaction startled him just as much as he alarmed me. Eventually, his eyes rise to look over my head. “Hey, man,” he greets Boone again.
“Hey,” Boone responds while I’m still pressed against him. I shuffle slightly to the side, embarrassed by my overreaction.
“Just getting back from vacation?” The man’s eyes slide over me briefly. I don’t feel like he’s checking me out in a sleezy way, but he does seem curious.
“Just back,” Boone replies without answering with a lie or too much information. I’m beginning to notice a pattern. It’s kind of a relief to know it isn’t just with me.
“Cool, I’m Brian.” He introduces himself to me, giving me a practiced smile.
“Harlyn, nice to meet you.”
“Are you heading out?” Boone steps to the side, clearing a path to the elevator. The door starts to close just a few seconds after, but he reaches out to stop it. I don't know why, but something about it feels intentional, like Boone was rushing the interaction along.
“Yeah, I’ll let you two get settled. It was nice meeting you, Harlyn.”
Boone ushers me along with his body, so I end up calling over my shoulder, “You too.” Now I’m even more convinced he was rushing me. “Embarrassed to be seen with a girl?” I pretend to tease him, because I’m feeling weird about the whole interaction now.
“No,” he scoffs, but it’s too quick, too forced.
“It’s just me then?” I walk into the door he pushed open, not sure how to feel. I know I don’t look my best. I’m still wearing his shirt, after all, and it’s not like it’s doing me any favors. It’s not even as baggy as I would have hoped.
“That’s a definite no.” He sounds more sure about that. The door snaps closed behind him, and he twists the lock on the knob and the deadbolt above it.
“You were weird about something,” I mutter, looking around the small entry, then down the hall to a living room I can’t see much of.
Not wanting to lead the way, I step toward a set of bifold doors I’m certain hides a closet, while Boone tosses his keys into a bowl on a small, smoky glass table with silver legs.
It’s sleek, and not really what I expected, but I’m not sure I really thought about what to expect.
Maybe I assumed it would look like Olivia’s boyfriend’s house, because he’s the only guy I know who lives alone—well, almost alone.
Liv stays with him so much, she might as well live there.
The thought of her triggers a yearning to talk to her.
“Come on in.” Boone leaves his luggage near a sliding door that’s too modern to call barn style and motions toward it.
“Office.” He walks down the short hall, stopping when it opens up.
“Kitchen and living room. The bathroom and bedroom are through there.” This time, he points toward a dark set of pocket doors.
One side is retracted, showing another hall with a narrow slatted closet door.