Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
FRANKIE
The second I put the pile of spare linens on my bed, the cat jumps on top of it and snuggles down.
“For God’s sake, Thelma.” Now I can’t reclaim it until she gets off.
I catch myself in the oval mirror of the old dresser. Who is that person who doesn’t look like me? She’s nothing like the corporate marketer who spends her days in business attire and high heels, who can give anyone a run for their money in the PowerPoint department.
If it weren’t for the fatigued skin, I’d recognize a hint of the teenager who spent so much time in this room.
My complexion does look fresher even after just two days back here, though. And these overalls I left here years ago still fit me, so that’s not bad.
Thelma snuggles deeper into the pillow on top of the sheets and purrs quietly to herself.
Damn her.
And damn me for being afraid of her.
Why the hell did she instantly love Miller? He’s a complete stranger. She’s known me her whole life.
Ugh.
I take my phone from my pocket and call Paige back.
“So he’s hot, right?” she says the second she answers.
“If you like that sort of thing.” I wander over to the window and watch Waldo trying to get one of the older, grumpier donkeys to play with him.
“And what sort of thing is that, exactly?” Paige asks.
“Tall. Broad shoulders. Looks like he works out. Brown eyes. Like deep, dark brown. And dark hair. Kind of like Zac Ephron’s.”
“Okaaay,” she drawls. “I was not expecting that much specificity. And you got close enough to check out his eye color?”
“Yeah.” I run my finger over the ribbons of peeling paint on the windowsill. “He kind of crashed into me and we stood there for a moment.” A tingle raises the hairs on my arm at the memory of his touch. I shake it off and turn toward my dresser.
“You mean, you stood there gazing into his deep brown eyes for a moment?”
“You’re making it sound weirder than it was.” I sit on the dresser’s matching stool.
“Was there like a piercing pain in your heart where Cupid’s arrow hit you?” She barely manages to stifle a giggle.
“Cupid can fuck right off.” I pick up my comb and run it through the messy bits of hair that have fallen from my ponytail.
“Oh, come on. It’s been, what, a year and a half since Bastard Brandon? And it’s not like you’d have to have a relationship with this guy. You’re only there for a couple of months. You could just enjoy Mr. Hot and Deep while you have him. You know, love the one you’re with.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I literally just met him.
He could have a wife and ten kids somewhere as far as I know.
” I pluck a tissue from the box and lean closer to the mirror to wipe off a smudge under my eye from the cursory mascara application I did this morning.
“Anyway, I need to apply myself one hundred percent to making the sanctuary solvent for when Grandpa comes home. And that’s going to take every effort of every brain cell I have.
I’m not going to get distracted by handsome strangers who show up on the doorstep.
And I’m very particularly not going to get involved with one whose help I can’t afford to lose if it went horribly wrong. ”
“Right, so it’s not that you don’t want to,” she says.
“That’s not what I sa—”
“Yeah, okay. When will you see him again?” Paige asks.
“As soon as Thelma’s off his bedding.”
“Excuse me?”
“He’s staying here.”
“What? Like in the house with you? Have you looked him up? Made sure he’s not being hunted in seven states for something heinous?”
“Jesus, Paige. One minute you’re telling me to have a roll in the hay with him for a couple of months, the next he’s topping the America’s Most Wanted list.” I lean my cheek closer to the mirror.
Yup, skin is definitely brighter. “And wasn’t it only an hour or so ago that you told me I should start trusting my own judgment again? ”
She raises a good point, though. I should do some research on this guy. For some reason when he asked if he could stay, my gut told me it would be perfectly fine and completely normal to agree to share my kitchen and bathroom with him.
But, thinking about it now that I’m not under the spell of those deep brown eyes, that was definitely a bit hasty and not anything I would ever normally do.
The only thing I’m ever usually hasty about is agreeing to doughnuts from the bakery next door to the Chicago office building that Paige is sitting in.
But Miller just seemed so…right, that for the first time in a very long time I didn’t find a single reason to be apprehensive about a man I just met.
My instinct told me it might actually be fun to have another human around the place. And something about him made me not question that instinct.
“Why does he need somewhere to stay?” Paige’s voice drips with suspicion. “Is he jobless? Homeless? What’s his deal?”
“I think he’s actually loaded. He has the haircut of someone who’s loaded.”
“Yeah, Zac Ephron’s, apparently.”
“He said he’s in investments and is digital-nomading for a while. He’s from Boston but looking for somewhere new to settle.”
“Or he’s changed his identity to remain untraceable by the five elderly women he charmed, married, and fleeced on his grifting travels.”
“If he was looking for someone to fleece for cash he would not set his sights on someone who lives in this place.” I glance up at the crack in the bedroom ceiling that I’m sure has gotten longer since the last time I was here.
“And anyway, I’m desperate for another pair of hands and he’s the only one who’s shown even the slightest bit of interest. Would I usually say yes to something like this?
Nope. But he’s not offering just a couple of hours a week like volunteers usually do, he’s offering full time.
And I need full time. And he really does seem fine. ”
I pick up the little pot of lip balm and squeeze the phone against my shoulder so I can rub some on my lips.
“Okay.” She sighs. “Since you’re the person who didn’t even trust that the bug spray guy who showed up at work wearing something fit for a trip to the moon, carrying a canister with a giant spray gun, and who’d just gotten out of a van with Bug Busters written on the side, was the actual bug spray guy until he showed you his license, I guess I’ll have to trust your instincts. ”
“I get that it seems weird. And you’re right, I don’t think I’ve ever had an instinctive reaction to someone like this before. Like they’re just a good person who’s doing everything for the right reasons, and are solid and trustworthy.”
Paige’s mouth drops open and her hands fly to her cheeks. “Is this one of those when you know, you know moments? Like those stories people tell of seeing someone across a room for the first time and before they’ve even spoken to them they know they’ll marry them?”
My stomach wobbles at the suggestion. “Stop it.”
“Tell me your future husband’s name and I’ll look him up.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” I sigh. “But if you insist on checking him out, he’s Miller McSweeney.
” I drag the magnifying mirror standing on the dresser closer to me to check if that spot on my chin has disappeared.
“And the reason he needs somewhere to stay is because the van he was traveling in was stolen. He’s had to replace everything.
He showed up wearing brand new gear, boots and a work jacket from brands that are anything but cheap. So he definitely has cash.”
“Hmmm. Really?” Paige sounds skeptical again as she taps on her keyboard.
And to be honest, if this were the other way around, I would think that was odd too, and that she was being way too trusting.
“But, if you think he’s for real, you should definitely jump on him.
Blow the cobwebs away. Get back on the bike and all that.
It would certainly be the cherry on top of your rural sabbatical. ”
“If you think single-handedly looking after seventy-five acres and seventeen donkeys is some sort of vacation, you’ve clearly never done it.”
“Funnily enough, I haven’t. Funnily enough, the closest I’ve ever come is singing ‘Old McDonald.’” She taps some more. “Not getting any hits on your guy, though. Hmmm.”
A thump on the floor has me turning around to see Thelma strutting away, tail straight up in the air.
“Ooh.” I leap from the stool. “Thelma just got off the sheets. Gotta go.”
The cat spins around to face me.
“Keep me updated,” Paige says as I virtually hurl myself on top of the linen pile to prevent my feline enemy from reclaiming it.
“I’m going to take him his bedding.” I hold the phone up so it’s not muffled by the sheets. “And everything is going to be fine.”
I climb the barn stairs, running my fingers over the linens that will have Miller McSweeney’s naked body against them tonight.
Does he sleep in the nude?
It’s all Paige’s fault that I’m thinking about his bare flesh and these sheets and…for God’s sake, stop it.
“I’m back,” I call to warn him of my arrival, as if he might be in a compromising position and need to make himself decent before I get there.
“Hey.” His tone is low and familiar, like we’ve known each other for years and have traded secrets in late night chats.
When I’ve climbed high enough for my eyeline to rise above the level of the loft floor I can’t help the word “Wow” from falling from my lips.
“You’ve been busy,” I add.
The space is considerably cleaner and tidier than it was half an hour ago.
He is also a little different. He’s removed the boxy work jacket to reveal a blue plaid shirt that clings to all the important places, like the swell of his chest, the broad curve of his shoulders, the bulge of his biceps.
The rolled back cuffs cut in at his elbow to reveal strong, corded forearms with a light dusting of dark hair.
Jesus. With a vision like this it’s hard to shove Paige’s suggestions out of my head.
“Found this downstairs.” He lifts up the broom he’s holding, his forearm muscles flexing. “So thought I’d get busy.”
There’s a sparkle in his eye that it’s possible to detect even from this side of the room and then, dear God, he rakes his other hand through his thick dark hair.
Do I have a cleaning kink I knew nothing about till this very moment?
Hell, I need to get my lady bits out of here before they explode.
“Here’s some bedding.” I bustle past him, dodging the pile of dust, scraps of yellowing paper, nails and other odds and ends that he’s swept neatly together.
Just as I’m about to put everything down on the cot, the broom drops to the floor with a clatter behind me and Miller appears by my side.
“I’ll take it.” He puts his arm out to stop me, his fingers brushing my right hand in a way that makes me a bit sad when it stops. “I want to wash down the bed with some soap and water before clean sheets go on it.”
That was not what I was expecting. But then what was I expecting from a seemingly wealthy nomad who apparently wants to camp in an old barn and take care of donkeys full time?
Is he a neat freak? The way the cot’s been shifted so it’s exactly flush with the back wall, and the fact that the table and some of the old cabinets have been lined up under the window, the table perfectly centered on the view, would suggest he might be.
“In fact, everything needs a washdown,” he says. “I found that old cloth to wipe off the thick of the dust, but to be honest, the cloth might have been dustier than what I was wiping.”
He has what Grandma would have called a Hollywood smile. One that tells you he’s the superstar in charge, but makes you feel special all at the same time.
I look around. “There isn’t really anywhere totally clean for me to put them down.”
“Hang on.” He lets go of the linens and strides across the room to grab his jacket from a hook that was probably banged into the wall about forty years ago. “This will do it.” He lays the jacket, inside facing up, on top of the set of drawers next to the table and taps it.
I place the bedding pile on top, safely preventing it from touching any dusty surface.
“I was thinking,” I say, even though it’s actually only just occurred to me. “Do you have any other clothes?” Okay, that sounds weird. “I mean, since all your stuff was stolen.”
He shakes his head. “Just a regular winter coat and sneakers back at the hotel.”
“Okay. Well, before the end of tomorrow this place will have ruined that shirt and those designer jeans.” Goddamn my eyes for drifting over his crotch as I say that.
I run my fingers over the pillowcase to give myself something non-penis-related to focus on. Though, if he does sleep naked, his penis would definitely be sheet adjacent.
Jesus.
I shove my hands into my pockets instead. “So, since you don’t have any transportation, would you like me to take you shopping? Then when we get back we can clean this place up. And after that it’d be time for all the evening donkey chores, and I can show you the ropes.”
There’s that sparkling smile again.
“Perfect,” he says.
And his face lights up, like he just unwrapped a chocolate bar and found a golden ticket inside.