Holt
Water.
I guzzled down half of a cold bottle and nearly spit it out with the sound of the lock on the front door turning.
Baker strutted in on her sex-kitten heels, her hair disheveled and her dress wrinkled from the night out dancing. She flicked a glance my way and kept moving straight toward her bedroom.
I’d rather she’d slapped me.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she sashayed past. Yeah, I was pissed at the accusations she’d hurled my way, needed some space to breathe. But more than that, I was relieved she’d come home. Truth be told, I was angry at myself for leaving her in that crowded nightclub to not only fend for herself, but find her own way home. I was raised better than that. But coupled with that guilt? What if she hadn’t made it home safely?
What if she’d hooked up with another handsy guy after I left? And she didn’t come home because she was with some ass—
Shit. I’d done that to her last night. That’s what she meant.
She and I didn’t have any obligations to one another, but there was something simmering beneath the surface. A little more heat and it was going to boil over. Both of us were already burning.
I couldn’t shove that word out of my head, either. Brainwash. Whoever had tried to do that to her, I wanted to kill. Teach them a lesson for hurting her. Because in that club, there was a moment where she’d been scared. Not of me. She hadn’t even been with me for a minute. Her fear was so real, I’d felt it too.
This wasn’t what I signed up for. I couldn’t care about anyone else. There was just no room for it in my life. I wasn’t willing to let another person leave me. She was supposed to be something new. A little bit of fun.
Except, I was unsettled. Desperate to go to her, take away her hurt. Make her smile.
Baker might need some space. Hell, I probably did too. No, maybe that was the problem. There was too much space between us.
I tossed my empty bottle in the recycling and headed down the hall. Instead of veering into my bedroom, I knocked once on her door and went on in without waiting for a response.
I nearly tripped. She was wearing one of my T-shirts, long, bare legs going on for days. Her hair was up in some sort of messy knot, a few pieces already loose in her face. And that face. It was free of makeup. She looked younger, innocent even.
She’s beautiful.
“Did we not just discuss boundaries?” She busied herself with tossing her dirty clothes into a laundry basket instead of looking at me.
“Are clothes included in that? Because that sure looks like my shirt.”
Her back stiffened before she turned to face me. “I didn’t have any clean ones.”
Little liar. But I liked the sight of her in my clothes. And that in itself was weird. It didn't equate with a little bit of fun.
I made a non-committal noise and took long strides toward the bathroom.
“Another shower?” she called through the open door.
“Nope. Toilet’s not working now.”
“I thought you were fixing things, not breaking them.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Where’d you get the idea I’m a plumber?” I asked, flushing the toilet.
Baker crowded in the doorway as I washed my hands. “You. I got that impression from you.”
Her mouth rolled from one side to the other in frustration. I took a step closer as I dried my hands with her pink hand towel, absently tossing it back toward the sink when I was done.
She held her ground. Something about that made me inordinately happy.
I fixed an apologetic look on my face. “Thought I’d get to work on it some this weekend, but I gotta go into the garage tomorrow. Maybe Sunday too.”
She looked panicked. “Why don’t we hire someone? We could both pitch in. I have a little saved.” The edge of desperation in her voice had me closing the gap between us. Her head tilted back to look at me as I got a breath of her sweet scent.
I pointed in the direction of my room. “Easy, that’s thousands of dollars of work if we hire somebody.”
“But we can’t keep doing this.”
I grinned at her. “Sure, we can. I think we’ve done pretty well so far, don’t you?”
“I guess,” she conceded. Something in me swelled with an intensity I wasn’t used to.
I lightly chucked her chin and winked. “You guess right. Now, I’ll get out of your hair.”
When she didn’t immediately move, a hope I shouldn’t have felt crept through me. I didn’t want to leave her any more than she wanted me to go.
“Good night,” she said stiffly, taking a step back.
Disappointment poked at me. I didn’t want to be alone. I opened my mouth to tell her as much, then I thought better of it. Alone was what I deserved. And Baker had enough shit to deal with. No need to drag her into mine.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Baker pointed toward me with her chin. “It’s late. Could be important.”
She was right. As soon as I saw the caller ID, I wished I hadn’t. Celia.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket as if it had burned me.
“Who was that?” A few wrinkles formed on the top of her nose.
My jaw clenched. “No one.”
“It had to be someone—”
“I said it was no one,” I snapped, and she recoiled. I closed my eyes to reel in my temper. When I opened them, Baker had her arms wrapped around her middle. I couldn’t take it twice in one night. “I’m sorry. It’s just—I just—come here.”
I opened my arms, but she didn’t move. We stared at one another. Only three feet separated us, but it seemed like a mile.
“Easy.” The word came out a plea.
She hesitated before she took a tentative step forward. My heart leapt, an erratic beat drumming with her next step. One more. That was all we needed.
She let out a shaky breath and closed the distance. Without hesitation, I folded my arms around her and pressed her head to my chest. A sense of rightness came over me. I clung to it because I knew I’d have to let it go. Let her go.
Slender arms slid around my back. I closed my eyes and rested my cheek on the top of her head.
“I stayed at my dad’s last night.”
Her hold on me tightened, and she burrowed deeper into my chest. I wove a hand through her soft hair, clinging to her. She felt perfect against me.
Peace. Light. Sanctuary.
“I’m sorry I said those things,” she confessed quietly.
I tipped her chin up and was lost for a second in those open eyes staring at me. “I’m sorry too. Truce?” She nodded, and I grinned. “You owe me a roommate night.”
“Oh, I do?”
“Yep. I’ll cash in my raincheck tomorrow. Pizza. Beer—”
“And the Walking Dead. I got it,” she finished.
“You wanna sleep in my room?” A strangled gasp escaped her and she struggled to get out of my hold. “No. No. I meant—dammit.” I tried to regroup before I completely terrified her. “I have to get up early tomorrow. If we switched rooms tonight, I wouldn’t disturb you when I need a shower. You could sleep in.” I was rambling in an effort to make up for my huge foul. Who did this to her?