“That's your place, isn't it?” she asked for the first time since we got in the car. Forty minutes of silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
She was pointing up at the top of the hill where a lone house stood. Not big. A simple two bedroom brick structure up an incline that was damn near impossible if there was so much as a dusting of snow on the ground.
“Why'd you say that?” I asked as I turned up the rock lined side road. I'd laid the rocks myself, scooping them out of the back of my truck every day for weeks. It made it damn near impossible to approach my place silently.
“Because you're like... you know...”
“A criminal?” I supplied, slanting my eyes to her, smiling.
“Well, yeah. I mean... you get involved with a lot of bad people. It seems advantageous to live in a house where you can see if anyone approaches from like a mile away.”
“It is,” I confirmed, pulling the truck around to the back and parking. “It's also... advantageous to have brick walls and bullet-resistant glass.”
At this, she giggled. Actually... fuckin'... giggled.
And fuck if it didn't sound like music.
“What?” I asked, fighting a smile.
She fought to control her laugh, lost, and shrugged a shoulder. “I could see a lot of people wanting to kill you is all,” she said, smiling wider.
I chuckled, shaking my head, and climbing out of the truck. Mostly because if I didn't, I was going to haul her into my seat and kiss that smartass grin right off her face.
The attraction thing? Yeah, it was becoming a problem.
I needed to be focused.
And her pretty little self wasn't making that easy.
I unlocked the front door, punching the pin into the security system as it steadily beeped its warning, then moved aside to let Alex in.
My house was comfortable. That was the only plan I had when I finally bought it- I wanted a place to settle into on the rare occasion where I wasn't on the road and sleeping in old motels.
Directly inward and to the left was the u-shaped kitchen, the cabinets a light cherry, the counters a swirling white and red marble. All the floors were wide-planked, medium tinted hardwood... stretching from the kitchen on the left toward the living room on the right, double doors leading out to the back deck. I had a big flatscreen in an entertainment system lined with endless DVDs across from a black leather couch and scuffed coffee table where I had never shied away from propping my boots up. There were a couple earth-toned braided rugs thrown around by the doors so I didn't trek mud all over with my boots since I wasn't exactly a big fan of scrubbing floors.
I looked over to find Alex looking around, her brows drawn together, making two little vertical indentations form between her dark brows. “What?”
She looked back toward me. “Just wasn't what I was expecting,” she admitted, but there was a strange sadness in her voice. “How often do you stay here?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Few days a month. Longer in the winter when I don't want to travel as much.”
To this, she nodded, walking over toward my living room and looking through my DVDs.
“What's up?” I asked, noticing her dropped shoulders.
She shrugged. “I've been on my own since I was seventeen,” she admitted, her voice far away. “And still... everything I own can be thrown into two moving boxes with five minutes notice.”
Jesus. She was jealous of my house. Small and simple as it was. Her life was even more empty than mine.
I walked up behind her, watching her fingers trace the spines of the DVD boxes. My hand landed on her hip from behind, for once, not sexual. Just a touch. “You gotta put roots down sometime, Alex.”
“Yeah, maybe once Lex is out of the picture once and for all,” she said, pulling away from me. “So where's your laptop?”
The moment was gone. Her shields were back up.
“How about you get yourself a shower? I'll make coffee and some food and then we can get to work.”
She turned back to me, shaking her head. “You need to like... brush up on your kidnapping lessons. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to offer me showers and food.”
“How 'bout we pretend I ain't your kidnapper from here on out? We're working together unless we have to pretend otherwise.”
To this, I got a shrug. “Alright. I could use a shower. That train floor was filthy.”
I nodded, leading her down the hall to the bathroom, leaving her for a second so I could go grab her a t-shirt to put on. Pants would be useless, she was too small for my stuff to stay up without her holding them in place.
And I was trying real hard to not think about her being without panties or a bra underneath one of my t-shirts as I went to the kitchen and started throwing together some breakfast.
I could cook. When the occasion called for it. Being up on the outskirts of civilization made the lure of takeaway less tempting. So I figured out how to throw some stuff together to feed myself.
I settled on omelets, breakfast potatoes, and toast and set to work as the coffee dripped.
The bathroom door opened as I reached for the plates.
And out she walked.
In nothing but my tee.
It was wide on her, her thinness something like half my size. But it wasn't long. Maybe mid-thigh. Giving me a nice view of her long legs.
“I can't believe you cook,” she commented, coming into the kitchen and reaching for the pot of coffee- pouring into the two cups I had left out in front of it.
“Why?”
“I don't know. I guess because I've never known anyone who could cook.”
“Not even your mom?”
“No. I mean... not unless things like spaghetti and frozen pizza counts.”
“They don't,” I clarified.
“Then no.”
“Well, this ain't anything special,” I said as she leaned around my arm to peek at the food on the stove, “but it ain't bad.”