Scarlett rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t a date. It was drinks.”
“Yeah, but your friend set you up.”
Scarlett was beginning to regret telling Mal about that. But yesterday, when she’d known she had to go for drinks that night, she’d been jumpy about it. Mal had stopped by for his therapy and given her the good news that he’d been released. She’d panicked at the thought of him not being there every day when she made her rounds, and she’d let it show. She still didn’t know why she’d felt that way, but she’d been just rattled enough to blurt out her evening plans instead of telling him she was going to miss seeing him. It didn’t even make sense to miss him since he still had to come in for therapy three times a week.
“She did, but I made it clear it wasn’t a date. And I took my own car, like I told you.”
“Wise,” Mal said. “I assume there weren’t any sparks?”
“No. No sparks. He was nice enough, but definitely not my type. I stayed longer than I should have, but I managed to get out before they went to another bar for dancing.”
And discovered a big scratch keyed down the side of her car. She’d stood in the parking lot looking at the other cars, but hers was the only one with a scratch that she could see. She’d gotten inside with a sick feeling rolling in her belly. Not entirely because of the scratch, but also because it had happened to her car. It made her think of those dark days with Josh manipulating her reality. But it couldn’t be him. If Josh had found her, he’d do a lot worse than put a scratch on her car.
Mal looked thoughtful. “What’s your type then?”
Scarlett resisted blurting out that he was. Until Josh had wrecked her life, she’d have said that her type ran to big, strong, protectors. Which meant that Ricky should have been perfect since he was none of those things, but he hadn’t been. Too soft, too nerdy, too interested in spreadsheets. And too into himself if the way he’d talked was any indication. Everything had been about him, which was too much like Josh for comfort.
“Not sure I have one these days,” she said. “I’m currently on dating hiatus.”
“I see.”
Haylee finished her call and returned with a smile. “Want me to take her up there, gimpy?” she asked Mal.
Mal’s mouth twisted. “Ha, ha. You’re a comedian. Between you and Scar, I’m going to have a complex about my leg.”
Haylee bumped his arm playfully. “Sure you are. Now give me the keys and I’ll take her up. You shouldn’t be climbing those stairs.”
“I have stairs in my house, Haylee.”
“I know that, genius. That’s why you don’t need to climb any that you don’t have to. Scarlett, help me out here.”
Scarlett was watching Mal’s face when Haylee turned to her. There was something there. Something that wasn’t exasperation or stubbornness. It was a softness. A longing. He hid it quickly, but not before Scarlett saw it.
Well, shit.
Haylee was the woman he was hung up on, as he’d put it. And she was in love with his teammate. Poor Mal. In that moment, Scarlett knew she could trust him. He really wasn’t interested in her. It was both a relief and a disappointment. Not that she was interested in him, but it’d be nice for once if a decent, handsome guy liked her. Maybe she’d be brave enough to try again if so.
Scarlett looked at the other woman. She was gorgeous, with dark hair and sparkling dark eyes, and she was lucky enough to be in love with—and loved by—the kind of Special Ops warrior who would protect her with his life rather than hurt a hair on her head. Two of them actually, though she didn’t know it. Envy rolled through Scarlett, along with a big dose of self-pity.
“We can manage,” Scarlett said brightly, pushing the self-pity down. “You go sit on the porch and Haylee and I will look at the apartment. Another week and you’ll be able to climb those stairs, but let’s not push it.”
“Fine,” Mal grumbled.
He thrust the keys at Scarlett rather than Haylee. She told herself not to read anything into the gesture, but it pleased her nonetheless.
“Take your time. I’ll just be here on the porch, bored and lonely.”
Haylee rolled her eyes. “You have a cell phone. Go look at Facebook or something.”
Scarlett and Haylee walked around the house toward the back. The garage was behind the house in a cluster of trees. Scarlett stopped, taking it all in. The building was white, like the house, and there was a set of stairs on one side that led to a balcony where she could put a small table and two chairs. The greenery was lush and shady. She could picture flower boxes hanging from the balcony.
“It’s pretty, right?” Haylee said.
“It is. I hope the inside is half as pretty.”
“I’ve never been inside. Guess we’ll find out together.”
They climbed up the stairs—fortunately not rickety—and Scarlett inserted the key. The lock was smooth, as if someone had oiled it recently. Mal had been up there, darn him. He really needed to be careful.
Scarlett pushed open the door and walked into the room. It was a studio, like he’d said. It was a little dark inside, probably from all the trees overhead, but the windows at one end were big and let in a lot of light. Some lamps would help with the dark corners.
“It’s not too bad,” Haylee said from behind her, flipping on the light switch.
Scarlett glanced at her. “No, not at all. It needs a good cleaning, but the space is nice.”
“Hardwood floors need refinished probably.”
“A good cleaning and waxing would help until then.”
“For sure. Nice kitchen, really. And the sink is beneath a window, which I always like.”
“Me too.” The cabinets were white. Scarlett pulled one open. It was wood, not laminate, and the hardware was original. The sink was porcelain, and the window had the original wavy glass. Scarlett twisted the lock and tried to lift the window, but it didn’t budge. “Been painted shut over the years. A knife and some elbow grease will fix that.”
Probably all the windows had been painted shut, but she’d dealt with that before in one of the houses she’d lived in with her daddy. She’d helped him so she knew how it was done.
They explored the rest of the space. It wasn’t big, but she could see where to put a bed, where to have a living area and dining table. Things she didn’t have, but she had a little money saved to buy some stuff if she hit up the thrift stores and vintage shops. The bathroom was on one side of the studio and took up the entire length of the building. There was a clawfoot tub with a handheld shower fixture that she’d need to figure out, a sink with a good-sized counter, a toilet, and a big closet for storage.
Aside from being farther from work than she liked, it was perfect. And the price was definitely right. She paid Justine seven-fifty to live in her house, but Justine’s place was much closer to everything. This was going to be a little bit of a drive, but Scarlett didn’t mind so long as her car held up. Plus there was something peaceful about the setting with all the trees. Looking out the windows, she almost felt like she was in a treehouse.
“So, what do you think?” Haylee asked, walking up beside her and looking at the view. “Too much work or what?”