Page 3 of Covert Desires

My voice is stern, assertive as I tell him, “You can stay, but only until the storm clears. Understood?”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” His gratitude is as fake as his smile.

“Don’t call me Ma’am.”

He cocks his head to the side. “What should I call you then?”

“Kiah is fine. And you are?”

“Kiah? Hmm…Nico.”

“And you came from?” I try again, unsettled by the lack of explanation.

He doesn’t answer, just stares me down with a curious look.

“Fair enough,” I concede, grabbing a room key from behind the reception desk. The faster I get him out of here, the better.

The drenched stranger stares wordlessly at the large wooden keychain shaped like a dolphin that I shove in his hands. He’s lucky I don’t shove it in his rude mouth.

“House rules,” I explain, gesturing to the door on the left, “My private space is off-limits, but you can use the common areas.”

Nico grabs the key without acknowledging my boundary.

“This is the part where you thank me.”

“Where is the room?” he asks instead, heading toward the hall without waiting for an answer.

I trot along to keep up with him. “Second door on your right. I need to put on fresh sheets—”

He suddenly halts, and I crash into him, almost losing my footing.

“I can take it from here.” Nico snaps his head around to glare at me with a snarl that could make the dead shiver, and I gladly part ways with a single nod.

He’s clearly not worried about fresh sheets, so why should I be? There are blankets in the cupboards, he’ll manage.

The unwanted guest heads down the dark hall to his room as I retreat to my personal safe haven, locking the door behind me.

It’s not much, but it’s mine—just a small open-plan space with a double bed, some armchairs, a rust-colored futon that doubles as a couch, and a mostly-for-show kitchen. To the side, an en suite bathroom with a shower completes the cabin-like refuge decorated with mismatched furniture and strings of seashells dangling from the roof like mobiles.

It’s a relief to pick up my paintbrush again and return to the midnight roses crawling over the canvas in acrylic. Usually, the strokes spreading over the white soothe the chaos in my mind.

But there is no calm for me now; my mind keeps returning to the strange visitor down the hall.

This storm better clear up soon so I can get rid of him. I don’t want to get caught up in whatever he is running from.

My life is all about peace and tranquility now; not harboring strangers bleeding in a storm—no matter how curious I am about who they are, why they’re here.

Boring is good.

Boring is what we want.

That little familiar pulse of excitement in my veins felt good, though.

Forget it, Kiah.

With a sigh, I dip my brush back into the back, forcing my focus back to my canvas.

But I don’t get far.

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