“Yes. I’ve never been here before, so I was just looking.”
“I hope you like it. Roxie helped pick all the colors, but it’s still pretty bare when it comes to a home.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
He takes me into his home, tension leaving his body as we cross the threshold, as if now our troubles are over. Perhaps they are getting better, but I'd be foolish to believe everything will be smooth sailing. We hardly know each other, despite our hearts and bodies saying otherwise.
"I'm kind of tired, Anthony. Is there somewhere I can lie down?"
"Of course." He takes my hand and leads me upstairs, although I could see the indecision in his eyes as if he weren’t sure if he should carry me instead.
We walk up to the first bedroom off the stairs, and it's huge. Bigger than my bedroom at home, which was pretty large. "Is this your room?"
"It's our room." I don’t know why I expected to be relegated to a guest bedroom when the man has been clear about our relationship since yesterday. Goodness, it makes me tingly all over. I can’t wait to be in his arms as we sleep.
"Now, let's get you nice and settled before I go and make some calls."
"I don't want to keep you from anything."
"Nothing is more important than you, but that also means making sure you have something in your belly. I have to see what we can have for dinner." He walks me over to the bed, and I slip out of my sandals. I leave my dress on as is and sit on the bed, swinging my legs over. He pulls the sheet, leaving the comforter at the foot of the bed.
"It's pretty warm, but I like having a sheet on."
"Me too. Thank you, Anthony."
"Anything for you." He bends down and kisses my temple before turning quickly and leaving the room. I watch him go, wondering how someone as large as he is can move that fast and completely silent. If I didn't see him leave, I would have never known he'd taken a step away from the bed.
I attempt to close my eyes and fall asleep, but suddenly sleep is the last thing I can get. My mind races a million miles a minute with everything that’s happened in the last day. My parents are at the forefront of my brain. I can’t actually think about the attack itself because it’s too real, too painful, but the vision of my parents’ faces when they left that morning bothers me. They looked nervous before walking out, as if they knew what was to come. I hope not, but I can’t put it past them. My mom has changed over the years, growing colder, crueler since my father’s death.
My bitch stepsister hissed and huffed when they took their time to leave, so she waited in the car. I’m not even sure where they were going, but they were gone by the time Brandon came in. Shutting my eyes closed tightly, I try to push that moment out of my head.
The doorbell rings, and I hear some noise, but the door shuts quickly so I don’t know who it is. I use it as my excuse to climb out of bed. I wanted to sleep, but now my thoughts aren’t good ones. I slowly open the door and step into the hallway. “Jules, are you okay?” He approaches the bottom step with a couple of bags in his hands.
“Yes. I just heard a noise.”
A grimace spreads across his face. “I’m sorry. I have to put away these groceries, but if you give me a couple of minutes, I’ll get you the antibiotics.”
“I’ll just come down there, if you don’t mind.”
“You’re free to go anywhere in this house, Jules.” I take the steps as quickly as I can, but I’m still very sore all over. The cut near my ribs burns with each stretch of that muscle it shredded. It’s one of the few spots where he got in a little deeper. I had no major bleeds or injuries, but healing’s going to take a while. Anthony patiently waits for me while still holding those bags because I have no idea where to go. “Come on, take my arm. You should be in bed, but I’m guessing your mind isn’t letting you.”
“You nailed it.”
“I’m sorry. If you want to talk, I’m here. Or you can call one of the girls.” Not his sister. I learned she doesn’t like me anymore, especially when it comes to Anthony. I suppose I did give her an awful impression of me the last time we spoke. We enter his kitchen, which is nicer than I expected for a man who works hard with his hands. It’s pristine.
“Your kitchen is beautiful,” I utter, rubbing the granite countertop of the breakfast bar. I can see he prefers the left chair because it has the most wear in the seat, including a couple of tears that I assume were from one of his knives catching the material.
“Our kitchen, and thanks. Roxie picked everything out when I bought the land off Boomer. It took a while to get everything set up, but I’ve lived here for the past five months.” Roxie. I’m afraid to speak to her. Goodness. She’s probably gonna tear me a new one.
“She’ll be down with her husband next week,” he says, turning as he fills a long cabinet with some cans.
“Oh, really?” I ask, trying to hide my apprehension.
He continues to put away the things without catching on, thankfully. I watch the way his large frame moves around so effortlessly, and I’m enjoying the flexing of his muscles through his tight black tee. I think that’s all the man owns. I’ve rarely seen him in anything else in all of our past encounters. “Yes. She’s going to come by to visit with my parents for my birthday.”
“Your birthday’s next week?” I’m learning lots of facts about the man who stole my heart.
He leans on the bar, sliding over the pharmacy bag, and says, “Yep. June fifteenth.”
“Wow. Our birthdays are really close together.”
“Yep. Here you go.” He hands me a glass of water. “Please take your meds, and I’ll order us a pizza.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you did the shopping yourself.”
“Frankly, I’m just tired and not that great of a cook. I’m not trying to send you running now that I’ve got you right where I want you.”
“I can barely walk. You won’t have any problem catching me,” I tease.
“That you are right about. Tell me what you want on your pizza, Jules.”
“A plain sausage is good for me.”
“That works. Take a seat.” I steal his chair on purpose, which he doesn’t fail to notice. He winks and then makes the call. I watch as he walks around the kitchen, stealing glances at me as he talks. Goodness, the man is gorgeous. It reminds me of all the times at the bakery where he’d sit and stare at me while pretending to actually watch for trouble.
When he ends the call, he tucks his phone away and takes the seat next to me. “Are you going to take them?”
“Oh yeah, of course.” I pull out the bottle and read the instructions. “Where is my phone? I need to put my alarm on it.”
“Sorry, beautiful, but your phone was destroyed when the guys went back for your things.”
“That’s weird. Why would that be? It was in my purse.”
“I don’t know. I’ll find out. Cyber’s going to bring you a new phone in the morning. He needed to try and save the memory on your old phone.”
“Dang. Did someone accidentally step on it?” I ask.