Chapter 12 Keys
KEYS
ZAYN
Iam jolted from sleep by pounding at my door. Stirring, I suck in a sharp breath and launch myself upward from my spot on the old leather chair. Somewhere in my planning and reconnaissance, I must have drifted off.
Shit. I hadn’t realized I was that tired.
Quickly, I fold up the piece of paper containing my neatly written notes, which included Josh’s full legal name, home address, and work schedule. Loud pounding sounds out once again from the front door.
Who the fuck is that? I don’t have any friends. And I don’t have any neighbors. Except for…
“OPEN UP—I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!” Kat’s voice sounds through the heavy oak door.
Oh fuck.
Standing, I smooth out my rumpled flannel shirt and run a hand through my untidy hair.
Rolling up the sleeves of my shirt to my forearms, I pocket my notes and move toward the front door.
I disarm the keypad system, unlock the deadbolts, and swing the door open.
The breath momentarily leaves my lungs as I survey the vision before me.
Dr. Katherine Pearson stands there surrounded by the dark night. She looks absolutely stunning. She also looks fucking pissed.
Her raven hair is loose and wild around her shoulders, her dark eyes blazing.
Her black mini dress shows ample amounts of smooth, creamy thigh.
The block heels of the black knee-high boots she dons are caked in mud—I’m guessing from the trek down from Pearson House.
She must have finally remembered the old pathway that connected our two homes.
About time, I think.
My eyes trail down her body to that stretch of creamy leg peeking out over the top of her boots. I indulge a mad desire to drop to my knees and lick those thighs, all the way up to her…
“YOU! I knew it. I just knew it! You are still living out here!” she spits at me. Pulling my gaze from her thighs, I make eye contact with her and usher her into the house.
“Dr. Pearson. Would you care to come inside?” I ask, politely.
“No, I would not fucking care to come inside,” she bites back. “Have you been stalking me?”
Taking in the fury in her expression, I decide that honesty is definitely the best policy right now.
“Well,” I begin, “that’s a bit of a complicated question, Katherine—”
She cuts me off, her voice rising shrilly, “It’s not complicated. It’s not. Have you been stalking me or not? How did you know where I was last night if you weren’t stalking me? Huh? Simple coincidence?”
“I…” I start, but she cuts me off again.
“And I know you’ve been inside Pearson House. Someone has been fucking with me in there and I know it’s you.”
She pins me with a furious glare, the late-night breeze softly whipping a tendril of her long dark hair across her neck.
I exhale, looking at her squarely in the eye and launch in.
“Okay. You probably weren’t aware, but Mr. Pearson named me as the new groundskeeper after my father died.
It wasn’t anything official. He just asked that I continue to look after the place.
And before he died, he asked me to continue looking after it—no matter what.
He even paid my salary two years in advance.
He made me promise him. And so, I did. When you moved into the house, I considered you to be a part of the place.
” I take a breath before I add on, “So yes, I have been continuing to tend to Pearson House since you moved in.”
She stares at me incredulously, a deep furrow forming between her brows. “And you didn’t think you should fucking INFORM me of that fact? What the hell, Zayn?”
God, my name on her lips is fucking intoxicating. Even in her rage.
“You’re right,” I respond simply, “I should have informed you that I still had keys to the house and that I would be around, keeping an eye on you.”
“‘Keeping an eye on me!’” She charges, chest heaving. “Is that what you call it? You broke in and left me a glass of wine for Christ’s sake! That is psycho behavior, Zayn!”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to call people psycho, are you, Doc?” I query, just a hint of humor in my voice.
She fixes with me with a heated glare that tells me I should probably shut the fuck up.
Despite her boiling anger, I spot a little shiver pass over her body. Apparently, she hadn’t bothered to put on a coat before deciding to march her ass down here. Little goosebumps pop up along her slender arms.
“Look—why don’t you come inside, Doc. It’s cold out,” I offer, gesturing to the entryway of the cottage.
She eyes me warily for a moment, as if deciding whether or not I will attack her if she steps over the threshold.
“I can explain everything. I can apologize more. We can even leave the door open, so you have an easy escape route, if you need it. I promise,” I say with a mischievous grin.
Still, she hesitates. “Scouts honor,” I say, holding three fingers up in the traditional salute.
Katherine rolls her eyes at me and tentatively steps forward. I move out of the doorframe and allow her ample room to enter. I inhale the faint scent of lavender and jasmine from her hair as she passes.
She walks through the small foyer and whips around to face me. I leave the front door open, as promised and lean against the edge of the wall by the old coat rack.
She turns and narrows her eyes on me.
“So? What do you have to say for yourself? I know it’s been you that’s been stalking me,” she fires at me. “How have you been getting into Pearson House?”
I notice there is slightly less of an edge to her voice now that she isn’t freezing.
“Oh well that’s an easy one,” I reply. “For all of that renovation work you did, replacing the old hardware, painting the exterior of the house… you never once thought to change the locks.”
She just stares at me for a moment, probably in utter disbelief. Her full, rosy lips form a perfect little O. It’s sexy as hell. But seconds later, Kat finds her words.
“Really?!” her voice a screech in the stillness of the house. “So, because I didn’t think to change the fucking locks after my father kills himself, that gives you the right to continue to use them to invade my privacy?! What the hell, Zayn? I was terrified.”
Her face is screwed up in anger as she advances toward me.
It’s honestly kind of adorable.
But I press my lips together to hide my smile. “Look, Doc,” I counter, “I’m sorry, okay?”
I show her both of my palms in a display of surrender. “You’re absolutely right. I should have been more forthcoming with you. About the fact that I still had access to the house, and about my intentions.”
“And what exactly are your intentions?” she demands.
Her eyes flit around the small room, betraying the first sense of curiosity I have seen from her since this interaction began.
Her eyes land on a few leatherbound copies of my first edition books sitting on a nearby shelf.
She quickly pulls her gaze away and directs it back to me.
Books are in her soul, same as mine. I can feel it.
See it there in her bright and curious, almost longing look.
Fixing her with a gentle smile, I again decide to answer honestly.
“My intentions are to honor my word to Mr. Pearson and continue looking after Pearson House. That includes staying close to you and making sure that you are safe out here all alone.”
And to make you mine, I think.
But I don’t say that part out loud. Not yet anyway.
“Ok,” she begins, breathing deeply, “so you made a promise to my father. That’s… weird. But I get. But then why pretend to be someone else in my therapy office earlier this week? Did you think I wouldn’t remember you or something?”
Fuck, so she had recognized me. I hadn’t been sure.
“Ah yes, that. Well, you see… I wanted to reintroduce myself to you, and I thought it would be best to do so on your turf. I thought it would be a nice way for us to reconnect, meet formally.”
“That is so fucking, weird, Zayn!” she heaves out. But I notice some of the tension and anger leave her face now, as she takes in more of the shelves of books that surround us.
Baby, you have no idea.
“The fake name? Why?” she inquires.
“Oh well that was just for fun, Doc,” I reply.
She shakes her head back and forth in obvious annoyance.
But then she adds softly, “Of course I remember you. I grew up seeing you out here every summer.”
My heart surges in my chest. And you left me every fall.
Kat’s eyes again scan the shelves and land squarely on the dark brown first edition of Pride and Prejudice.
“You… have a lot of books here,” she offers, still trying to infuse a tone of forced irritation into her voice.
“Mmm,” I reply, “more than I used to, that’s for sure.”
“That’s… unexpected,” she says, her eyes taking in more of the sitting room. I follow her eyes as they flit around to all the exits, including all of the windows. I remember her hypervigilant tendencies from when she was younger.
She really is such a peculiar little thing, isn’t she?
Kat’s chocolatey eyes find and fixate on the Austen once again, and I swear her pupils dilate the tiniest fraction.
“Were these all here while you were growing up?” she inquires.
I scoff. “Hell no. Almost all of them I have collected since my parents passed. I like to have a well-rounded library.”
She nods, her eyes again finding my own for a moment. “I’m sorry about your parents,” she says softly.
“And I meant what I said in your office, Doc. I was truly sorry to hear about your dad. Mr. Pearson was a kind and fair employer to my father. And to me.”
The energy seems to deflate from her shoulders, and she shifts her weight from one leg to another and wraps her arms around herself.
Unsure? Or uncomfortable? Either way, I decide to take advantage of her retracting her claws.
“Look, Doc. I am sorry for the deception and for invading your privacy. Truly. I promise to be up front with you starting now and going forward. Hell. Maybe we can start over.” I extend my hand out to her in a mock handshake. “I’m Zayn Bronwin, your new-slash-old next-door neighbor.”
The corner of her full mouth twitches upward, threatening a little smile. She fights it back, though. And she doesn’t take my hand. I slide my hand back into the pocket of my jeans and wait for her to respond.
“Kat,” she says simply, and we fall into a short period of comfortable silence.
“And how are you doing after last night, Kat?” I ask her, my voice now low and soothing. I can see a dark reddish mark across her throat from where that asshole had choked her.
“Oh. I’m okay. I’m fine.”
Putting on a brave face. Afraid to be vulnerable, I think. How can I make her see that she can trust me? That she never has to be brave around me?
“Well, that’s good to hear,” I answer. “I was thinking about you.”
“I was just a little shaken up, that’s all.” She gives me an unconvincing smile. “Bea helped me.”
“I’m glad,” I reply.
“Hey,” she starts, as if just remembering something, “how did you get my cell phone number anyway?”
“The internet is an amazing place, Doc.”
“Hah. Got it,” she breathes out. Her eyes trail over my folded forearms, and I see her inspecting the inky black cords that adorn my flesh there. The desire to reach out and wrap my arms around her pulses through me.
“W-well, I had better go.”
I watch the delicate column of her neck move up and down, as her eyes hone in on a vein that protrudes from the back of my hand.
“Of course,” I say, “I’m glad you came down, Doc. Please feel free to come visit any time. Or just text me since you have my number now.”
“Mhmm,” she replies, but doesn’t make any move to leave, just stands there, holding my gaze.
I incline my head gently in her direction and gesture toward the open door. As if suddenly realizing that she isn’t moving yet, Kat starts forward and walks out the door, glancing up at me shyly.
I resist the urge to reach out and stroke her arm as she passes.
“Good night, Doc. I’ll see you soon,” I murmur.
Very soon, in fact.
“Night,” Kat says quietly. She turns to head back down the dark and muddy pathway back to Pearson House. She pauses a few feet from the pathway and turns her head to the side.
“Oh, and Zayn?” she says over her shoulder. I take in her beautiful profile, highlighted a glowing white in the moonlight.
“Yeah, Doc?”
“Next time, maybe consider using the front door.”
A grin spreads across my face. Next time.
“You got it, Doc.”