Page 16 of Shades of You

With the suitcase in hand, I descended the stairs. I stared at the cozy shop with its stacks of books and nooks for reading. “What about work? I can’t just hide out in your apartment twenty-four seven. I have a business to run!”

Hunter loomed near the counter, his presence grounding and intimidating at the same time. “The bookshop should be safe enough. I—or one of the two guys who work for me—will stake it out. No one will get in who’s not supposed to.”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times but was unable to refute his logic. “All right then.”

It was near enough to closing time, and the setting sun beyond the windows cast a golden sheen over the shelves of books. I flipped the sign toClosed, turned off thelights, and finally locked the door, each action like sealing away a part of myself.

Hunter waited patiently. Once we stepped outside the back door, he stooped to carry my suitcase and together we walked down the alley toward his building. I took in his towering form beside me, the way his muscles shifted beneath his shirt with every step, the tattoos on his arms dancing with his movement.

I couldn’t say whether placing my safety—and maybe my heart—in the hands of this man was the smartest or dumbest decision of my life. But with each step I took, anticipation grew inside me like a diver teetering on the edge of a cliff, ready to plunge into the unknown depths below.

Chapter Eight

Hunter

Brenna’s presencewas just a breath away from my back as I typed in my security code at the back door. “I’ll write down the code for you. There’s no key.” I tried to impart some confidence in my voice.

She nodded, and I adjusted my sweaty grip on her suitcase. After climbing the stairs and swinging the door open, the spartan landscape of my living room was revealed. I couldn’t help but see it through her eyes—the stark walls unadorned with pictures, the practical furniture set that echoed my own utilitarian approach to life.

But there was one exception to the otherwise sterile environment. A mahogany bookcase Gabe had crafted for me was the focal point of one wall. It held a collection that mirrored my mindset—every title by Hemingway, a ton of modern adventure novels, Hawthorne, Shakespeare, Salinger.

“Very practical and no-nonsense,” Brenna stated, her voice pulling me back from my introspection. I caught theflicker of surprise in her green eyes as they snagged on the bookcase, and nerves clawed in my stomach. My space felt exposed, too much like the inner workings of my mind laid bare. I set down the suitcase and shoved my hands into my pockets, wondering what the hell we were going to do now.

Then her attention shifted, and her face softened as she spotted Pedro curled up on the couch. In an instant, she was across the room, lifting the fluffball with a smile that made my heart clench tighter. As she nuzzled him, her laughter was like music in the starkness of my home. “I can’t believe you have a kitten! What’s his name?”

“Uh, Pedro.”

“He’s so cute!” She held him up before her face and he squeaked at her. “How old is he?”

“Nine, ten weeks, I think. Or something like that.” I mumbled the words, and they tumbled out awkwardly. All of a sudden, my body felt too big for the room. Brenna had glided in like she belonged there, and obviously Pedro was a fan as she gathered him in her arms. I frowned at the cat. “Getting a kitten wasn’t my idea. Stella made me take him.” As Brenna glanced at me, her smile reached her eyes, and I knew my attempt to appear nonchalant had failed spectacularly.

“Looks like he’s found himself a good home,” she said, still cradling Pedro, who purred contentedly in her arms.

My chest tightened, a strange sensation spreading through me as I tried to deny feeling jealous of a damnedkitten. I forced a shrug, trying to shake off the warmth Brenna radiated. “Well, the jury’s still out on that.”

Then she glanced more closely at his paws. “Oh, look at that! Six toes. Figures your sister would bring you a Hemingway cat.”

I shrugged yet again, unable to get my mouth to workproperly. The floral-patterned dress she wore accented her tall, willowy frame. Her long hair hung loose, and I had to press my hand against my hip to fight off the urge to run my fingers through it.

Then her eyes became unfocused, staring through the window that showed the scrubby shoreline. “Pedro… don’t you guys give your cats literary names? From Hemingway stories? It’s been so long I can’t remember.”

“The Sun Also Rises.”

She whipped her head back to me, her eyes widening. “That’s it!” Then, laughing, she held the tiny cat up, so his white paws hung in the air as he faced her. “Pleased to meet you, Pedro.”

Walking back to her suitcase, I quickly changed the subject, eager to regain some semblance of control over the situation. “I’ll show you to your room.”

“Oh. Right,” Brenna said, setting Pedro down. He immediately padded behind us as we walked toward the hallway.

Thank God she was behind me, so I didn’t have to stare at the way her ass moved under that dress. The way she laughed, full-body and unreserved, stirred something deep within me. For a moment, I imagined what it would be like to pull her into my arms and taste that laughter right from her lips. My hand clenched the suitcase, damn near cracking the handle. The need to touch her was nearly overwhelming.

We passed my room and the guest bath, arriving at the end of the hall. “Here’s your room,” I said abruptly and more gruffly than I intended before pushing open the guest bedroom door. Anything to distract myself from the dangerous thoughts swirling in my head.

Brenna stepped inside, taking in the sparse surroundings.The room was clean, almost sterile with its queen-sized bed, solid wood dresser, and bare walls.

“Well, it’s… minimalist.” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Decorating hasn’t been a priority lately,” I lied as I leaned against the doorframe. Decorating had never been a thing for me. I lived in a world devoid of color, where shades of black and gray were my constant companions.