Page 11 of Anything for You
Still, there were times when I felt the reality of notknowing how to do things it felt like most people knew. Not so much fixing a shower, but… other things, lock picking notwithstanding. I hadn’t ever pumped gas when I moved in with Nan—hadn’t ever even seen someone do it. And of course, there was a long list of other gaps I suspected most people simply didn’t have.
My palm rubbed circles on my sternum in an attempt to rid myself of the dull ache there.Focus on the fireplace. Focus on the cozy couch and the giant, nice landlord fixing the problem instead of having to call someone and pay them to fix this. Focus on knowing Nan is at Silverton Springs and this is better for her. For us.
I ran through the practice, working with every bit of me to find gratitude for the situation and not feel the gut-level sense of loss that followed me around lately.
Loss. Failure. Change.
Rude.
Honestly, just hard and rude and not thoughts I wanted to think about, so I shoved my face back into my book and tried to focus on the grumpy yet oh-so-lonely Duke begrudgingly falling for his new bride.
Try as I might, the tinkering sounds in the bathroom kept pulling my focus. Probably time to switch genres again. I loved romance, but within that larger category, there were so many different subgenres to explore. I followed where my whims took me and usually hung out in a given subgenre until I got tired of it. Looked like the months-long reign of historicals was coming to an end.
What next?
Maybe something fantasy. Fairytale retellings, maybe? ABeauty and the Beastvibe could do it. Or, maybe something a little less expected, like aLittle Red Riding Hoodora Goldilocks who stumbles into a house and sleeps in her future landlord’s bed?
Granted, thinking about my more than a little sexy landlord’s bed after encountering the creeping growth of a crush was far from wise. But also, Ihadbeen in his bed. I already had. Maybe not by invitation, but?—
“All set. Shouldn’t be an issue again.” Dorian caught my eye and tipped his chin down, not stopping until he reached the door and pulled it open, then exited.
Meanwhile, I tossed my book aside and scrambled off the couch, jogging after him in a completely normal way and not at all like I’d been thinking about his bed.
“That’s awesome, thank you.” Shuffling down the stairs, the ghost of Christmas idiocy came over me, and I swung my arm like I was doing an old-timey dance and asked, “What do I owe ya?” in a terrible Southern accent.
We will never know why. We must make peace with the things we cannot change.
He turned back from the truck, mercifully having missed my odd little jig to accompany the terrible accent, and shook his head. “No charge. It’s covered by your rent.”
Oh. Duh. Right.One of the bonuses of being a renter!
My hand jutted out. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it so much.”
His amber eyes shifted down, and after a second of hesitation, he took my hand.
My stomach flipped, then flipped again when he lifted our joined hands up and down. Instantly releasing me, he left me to contemplate life’s cruel reality of a hand now empty that’d once been held by his.
With one last little nod, he turned and trudged up the stairs. Curious little weirdo that I was, I watched him go.
Lucky I did, or I wouldn’t have caught the way he shookout the hand that’d shaken mine, then balled it into a fist before he disappeared inside.
My heart sank with a familiar embarrassment. With a hustle in my step, I jogged back inside and buried myself in my book and tried desperately to convince myself he’d made that fist because he’d enjoyed the contact and not because having me here and touching me had made his skin crawl.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Stone
Other than a wave here and there, one stop into her place to fix a faulty outlet while she was away at work, and the occasional polite acknowledgement in town on the rare occasion we were there at the same time, I hadn’t seen or interacted with my new tenant.
Dove.
I’d done my level best not to think about her or worry about her either. Most of my concerns centered around the nonsense cropping up thanks to the commune and of course the excitement now that Jo and Adam had finally set the date for their wedding. This coming December, a little over a year after they got engaged, they’d tie the knot. Everyone expected them to do it sooner, but with Elizabeth coming back, Jo insisted on waiting until her sister was settled. Now that she had wrapped up everything in DC and would be home for good, Jo had wasted no time.
I wondered how Dove would feel. She struck me as the kind of person who would delight in her friends’ happiness, but I knew from experience that so often, life and emotions weren’t that simple. My own response was at once delighted for my friends and tinged with something hidden and aching. Maybe not a fully formed desire for the same thing for myself, but the intrepid inhale acknowledging I wanted to be capable of it.
My thoughts about Dove counted among those complex things. And when we’d shaken hands the other day, I’d felt it in my entire body. In some way, it felt like her hand slid against mine, our palms pressed together, and the world stopped turning for a breath while my mind wrapped itself around the contact.
A faint buzz had lit under the skin where we’d touched, even after letting go. The sensation had remained even after I’d clenched my fist and released it. And it was one more thing running around in my head, bringing my thoughts back to my neighbor.
