Chapter 3
THREE
“Are you sure you’re okay?” As gently as she could, Lucy touched the lump on Sebastián’s head. “I can drive us to an urgent care.”
A rare tinge of grumpiness roughened his voice. “I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
The producer had said HATV would cover any medical expenses, but Sebastián had refused treatment. “Stereotypical man,” Jill had muttered to herself before leaving to discuss the situation with the crew.
Sebastián might have rebuffed the crew’s fussing, but he’d let Lucy supervise his slow descent from the loft and guide him to a seat.
She’d settled them both on the cramped, lumpy built-in couch—according to Allie, “the perfect loveseat in the perfect forest hideaway!”—while he recovered from the blow to his head.
He’d never lost consciousness, his pupils seemed normal, and he remembered everything that had happened, so she was willing to let him decide how to treat the injury.
But jeez, he’d given himself quite a bump. At exactly the wrong moment, too. She’d almost thought…
Well, she’d surely been imagining things. He’d been helping her determine the loft’s suitability for her future partners, nothing more. Another gallant gesture from a loyal friend.
His black hair had rumpled in all the hubbub, and she smoothed it into place. When he shifted his head away from her touch, she let her hand fall into her lap. Then into her pocket, where the worry stone waited, slick and cool and impervious to hurt.
“How’s the patient doing?” Jill walked toward the couch, watching Sebastián with concern. “Did you change your mind about going to a doctor?”
“I’m fine,” he repeated for the hundredth time. “But I do have a question. Where are the closets in here? Lucy’s massage table needs a storage place.”
Typical Sebastián, bringing the focus away from him and back to her needs.
Jill lifted a shoulder. “No need for closets. The guy who owns this house is a minimalist. Not to mention a naturist.”
“He likes plants? I think we got that idea already, given the profusion of pot in the kitchen.” Lucy tilted her head. “But what does that have to do with closets?”
Jill snorted. “A naturist isn’t a plant lover.”
“Then what is it?” Sebastián was rubbing his temples, but he stopped as soon as their attention turned to him.
“A nudist.” Jill grinned at them. “The dude who owns this place is a nudist.”
Lucy and Sebastián bolted up from the couch immediately.
A nudist elf. She was in the house of a nudist, weed-cultivating elf. And there weren’t even any fudge-filled cookies or samples of edibles to be had.
“Those lumpy cushions…” She groaned. “Goddess help me, I don’t want to know.”
Sebastián was staring down at the couch, his lips pursed, but he didn’t say a word.
“Sorry,” Jill said. “I meant to warn you, but by the time I noticed you were sitting there, I figured the ball-sweat damage was already done.”
Lucy sighed. “Let’s disinfect our hands, and possibly the rest of our bodies and everything we’ve ever touched. Then why don’t we find Sebastián a different, non-genitals-infused seat where he can rest while we finish filming?”
He shook his head gingerly. “Like I said, I’m okay. Let’s get this done.”
No argument she could muster would make him admit vulnerability, and she knew it.
So she didn’t argue, despite her worry. And luckily, the rest of the filming took less time than she’d imagined, given that the entire cabin could have fit inside her old condo’s master bedroom.
Everything went smoothly, up until the final conversation between her and Allie.
“So what’s your overall impression?” her friend asked.
Lucy glanced at Sebastián, and his warm, dark gaze and little nod heartened her. She chose honesty. “I’m so sorry, Allie, but this place doesn’t work for me. I need more space, and I need a house in better condition. I appreciate your showing it to me, though.”
Allie gave a tiny sniff, her nostrils flaring. “For your budget, you can’t afford everything you want. You may need to be more realistic about your tiny house expectations.”
Sebastián shifted, clearly preparing to insert himself into the discussion, but Lucy lifted a hand, and he subsided.
She didn’t want conflict. She just wanted this day to end. “Maybe so. Still, I’d like to see more options. I’m sure the next house will be perfect.”
Allie offered the camera a gleaming smile. “It will be, or my name isn’t Allie Peachtree, Real Estate Queen of the Eastern Seaboard.”
“Um…” Lucy blinked. She’d never heard anyone call Allie that before. Not once. Honestly, it didn’t seem like the easiest name to remember. “Long may you reign?”
“Exactly.” Allie descended the stairs and left without another word.
“That’s a wrap for the day. See you tomorrow at eight o’clock sharp,” Jill called out.
Thank goddess. Lucy couldn’t wait to relax for the rest of the afternoon and evening. She grabbed her backpack and strode over to where Sebastián was staring up at the loft.
She poked him in the arm. “Picturing the various diseases we contracted while rolling around up here?”
Keep it light and breezy. Just because you misinterpreted what happened—in yet another spectacular display of poor judgment—doesn’t mean you should make your friend uncomfortable.
“Yes.” His eyes didn’t meet hers, and she heard him swallow. “Yes, that’s what I was picturing.”
“Are you about to head home?” She jingled her keys. “Because after I stop at the hotel and take care of Hairy, I’m going to grab some dinner. I’d love for you to join me.”
At that, he turned to her. “A hotel? Why aren’t you and Hairy staying in your condo?”
“I moved out, as the Real Estate Queen of the Eastern Seaboard suggested.” Nope.
Still not rolling off the tongue. “She decided to stage the condo using nicer furniture than mine, so I had to move all my stuff into storage anyway. Then she asked me to keep it looking perfect until we got a good offer, and given how Hairy sheds, that didn’t seem feasible if we stayed there.
So I booked a pet-friendly hotel room with a good weekly rate.
And since the condo sold so quickly and I’m leaving so soon on vacation, I didn’t see the point of moving back in.
Until I get my tiny house and transport it to Minneapolis, we’re living out of a suitcase. ”
The corners of his mouth flicked downward, just for a second. “You didn’t tell me you needed to move out so soon. I would have helped you get everything into storage.”
She bit back her instinctive response: You didn’t ask.
If she hadn’t understood him so well, she’d have said he didn’t care whether she stayed or went. But he did care. She knew he did. “No worries, Seb. I had lots of other friends to help me. If I’d been in a jam, I’d have called you, like I did with this house hunt.”
Silence.
His jaw worked, and he shifted on his feet. But he didn’t say anything, and she was too tired to wring more words or an answer to her dinner invitation out of him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early.” She slung her backpack over her shoulder and found the key to her Prius. “Thank you again for helping me so much today. I owe you big.”
Offering him a quick squeeze on his arm, she turned to go.
“You and Hairy shouldn’t stay in a hotel and live out of a suitcase for weeks,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. Hoarse, as if he’d had to wrest the words from his throat by force.
She slowly swiveled to face him, stunned into silence. The Sebastián she knew didn’t tell her what she should and shouldn’t do. He didn’t contradict her decisions. Not ever.
“Seb…” What did he want from her? She didn’t have any other good options. “It’s fine. The hotel is decent, and everything we need is in my suitcase.”
He shook his head, mouth tight. “I’m sure you picked a good place, but it’s not as safe as a home, it’s expensive, and it’s not as comfortable for either of you. Stay with me instead.”
Oh, he was such a good man. But for so many reasons, staying with him was a terrible idea. She’d managed to conjure a near-kiss from a friendly gesture today. Goddess only knew what sort of foolish conclusions she’d reach if they spent night after night in the same house.
“I can’t impose on you or Kitty Hendrix like that. But I appreciate the offer.” On impulse, she got up on tiptoe and kissed his smooth cheek. “The hotel will be fine. Don’t worry about us.”
He’d closed his eyes at the contact. “I…”
He struggled for words as she waited. Opened his eyes again. Curled his fingers into his palms, brow pinched.
“I want you to,” he finally said. “I want you to stay with me. Otherwise, I’ll worry.”
Flabbergasted, she stared at him.
“Please.” A vein in his temple throbbed, a telltale sign of his agitation. “Please, Lucy.”
He’d never pleaded with her before. Not for anything. Not for comfort, or assistance, or even the television remote. So what, really, could she say to the man who’d been her faithful friend for over fifteen years?
“Okay.” She swallowed hard. “Okay. If you’re sure, we’ll stay with you.”
He let out a slow breath. “Good. Go get Hairy, and we’ll meet at my house.”
When he sprinted down the steps and out toward their cars, she was too confused to follow.
Self-contained, stoic Sebastián Castillo had just expressed what he wanted in words. Revealed a vulnerability. Admitted an emotion. What in the world was happening?
And did it mean she hadn’t misinterpreted their encounter in the loft after all?
Hairy bounded through Sebastián’s house the moment she let him off his leash, tail wagging as he barked with wholehearted enthusiasm.
No doubt he’d detected the wonderful smells wafting from the kitchen.
But Lucy knew her dog, and not even amazing food—had Seb made that delicious Guatemalan stew for her again?
—could elicit this particular brand of fevered intensity.