Chapter Sixteen
Rome
Outside, rain tapped softly against the windows. The sky had been gray all morning, and the weather report promised thunderstorms later. The house smelled like coffee and cedar from the candle burning in the living room.
It smelled like me.
I wondered what Josie’s house smelled like. Vanilla probably. Or sugar. Something sweet.
My mouth twitched. Jesus, I was down bad.
The doorbell rang, and I nearly spilled coffee all over the counter, because apparently, I had the emotional stability of a teenager.
I set the mug down and walked toward the front door.
Told myself to act normal, counted to three, and I opened it, forgetting every plan I had when I saw Josie standing on my porch.
Rain dotted her hair and shoulders. Dark jeans hugged her curves and she wore a cream-colored sweater that slipped off one shoulder and brown boots. Her hair hung loose today, and the wind kept blowing strands across her face.
She smiled nervously. “Hi.”
Christ, I was in trouble.
“Hey.” Brilliant. Real smooth.
Josie laughed softly. “You gonna let me in?”
I blinked. Right. “Yeah.”
I stepped aside. Josie walked in and then stopped. Her eyes went wide as she looked around. “This is not what I expected.”
I shut the door behind her. “What were you expecting?”
She turned slowly. “A bachelor pad. I checked the address three times before I got out of the car.”
I looked around.
Dark hardwood. Big staircase. Antique light fixture. Bookshelves. “You disappointed?”
She looked horrified. “No!”
Her eyes darted toward the stained-glass window. “Oh my God.”
I grinned.
She walked toward it immediately, and the afternoon light filtered through blue and green glass, casting colors across the floor.
Josie brushed her hand over the glass. “This is beautiful.”
I shrugged. “Came with the house.”
“You’re a putz.”
“Because I own a window?”
“Because you act like this house isn’t the most amazing thing ever.”
I loved the house; I just didn’t go around petting all of the windows.
She wandered into the living room and ran her fingers over the bookshelves. She moved to the opposite wall and stopped in front of a framed sketch I’d done years ago of the outside of the house. “You drew this?”
“Yeah.”
She looked back at me. “It’s not fair that you’re so talented.”
“I tattoo and draw, babe. It’s not rocket science.”
“Pfft, what you do is way better than rocket science,” she mumbled.
“Not really.”
“I don’t know how you can be so confident, but also modest at the same time, Rome.”
I shrugged. “It’s a gift.” I hitched my thumb over my shoulder. “Want the rest of the tour and then we can eat?”
She nodded. “Lead the way, handsome.”