Page 18 of Vacancy

“No, I haven’t,” I admitted. “Thalia was very…informal about all that.”

He sniffed out a sound that could’ve been amusement…or maybe it could’ve been irritation. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure.

“So…alright,” I announced, rubbing my hands together and smiling in relief. “Legal papers to sign sound good. Thank you.”

As I blasted him with a grateful smile, Damien Archer gazed back intently, and his eyes heated with an awakening awareness that made my thighs tingle and my breasts go hot and heavy.

“You’re welcome,” he answered belatedly, his voice low enough to send shivers through me.

Unaccustomed to having such a strong reaction to anyone, I cleared my throat and tried to ignore the pulsing flares igniting inside me. “So… I’m still puzzled by all this. If Thalia didn’t think to tell you that she’d returned to townoraccepted a new tenant for you, then why did she still let all the proceedsgoto you?”

And how long had she been gone, I wanted to add.

“All good questions,” he admitted, seemingly just as confused as I was. Then he stepped closer. “She didn’t… I mean, did she ask you to give me any kind of message or anything?”

When an achingly hopeful expression lit his face, I felt like a terrible person for having to say, “No. I’m sorry, she didn’t. But she didn’t act as if she’d been gone or as if she’d even lost contact with you either. I never would’ve guessed you two were estranged. I mean, she only saidgoodthings about you.”

He sent me a half smile as if he didn’t want me to see how much hearing that hurt him. “I don’t… Well, I don’t have anything bad to say about her either,” he admitted hoarsely. “And I know she didn’t leavebecauseof me. I just…” He exhaled heavily and sent me a longing glance. “It’d be really nice to see her again, you know.”

I nodded sympathetically. “How long has it been?”

His eyes looked glassy as he shook his head. “Feels like forever.”

Not the answer I was looking for, but I wasn’t going to press something that was obviously a painful topic for him, even though I physically had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out a dozen more questions.

“Hey,” he said abruptly as if just then coming up with an idea. “Do you think you could… I mean, could you let me know the next time she’s around?”

I cocked my head suspiciously. “Do you not have her number?” He flushed guiltily, and I cried, “Really?” How could he not even have his own sister’s phone number?

That was sus as hell, right there. A guy asking you to let him know when some girl was around when he should already have all her contact info… Not cool.

Even if shewashis sister.

Except I didn’t want him to be a bad guy whose sister actively avoided him. There was this aching vulnerability in his eyes that I wanted to just hug out of his system. It made me feel extra drawn to him.

As if realizing he was walking on eggshells with me, he quickly added, “Or could you just let her know how much I’d like to talk to her the next time you see her?”

Alright, that was better. Whew! I bobbed my head in enthusiastic relief, glad he no longer had the stalker vibe hanging over his head.

“Sure ’nuff,” I said, wanting to do anything to help wipe that dejected look off his beautiful face. “Of course, I’ll tell her.”

His shoulders fell heavily with relief. “Great. Thank you. I guess I should give you my number then, which…” He lifted his brows. “...you should probably have, anyway, you know, in case you have plumbing or electrical problems or something. With the rent money going to me, I’ll be the one who takes care of any repairs around here.”

“Right.” I nodded slowly. “I mean, yeah. That makes sense. Okay. I’ll…give you mine too.”

He gave a jerky return nod. “Sounds good.”

As he dug his hand into his pocket and pulled up his phone, a surreal sense of disconnection swamped me. I mean, the hottie I’d been ogling from my window and dreaming about from afar was now giving me his number.

Because he was my landlord.

How in the world was this happening?

As I awkwardly took the phone he extended to me, we glanced at each other once more before I called myself. When I heard my ringtone blare from the kitchen island next to my empty breakfast plate, I hung up again and handed his phone back to him.

“There you go.”

“Thanks,” he rasped, keeping eye contact as our fingers brushed accidentally, zinging a strange pulse of heat straight through my veins.

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