by Kate Morris
“Would you like something to drink? A coffee or hot tea?” she offered. He did bring her back her phone, after all.
“Uh…I just stopped to drop that,” he said, shoving his hands into the deep front pockets of his baggy jeans, and nodding to her phone on the counter. “I didn’t mean to come in and stay.”
“You can wait out this weather for a few minutes if you like,” she suggested since it was now thundering and throwing brilliant flashes of lightning across the land.
Tristan looked like he wanted to bolt. “I stopped at the bar yesterday.”
Okay, so he was staying? She wasn’t sure. She’d never even had a man in her apartment. Other than her many brothers, of course. She went into the kitchen and set her coffee maker to brew enough for two mugs of coffee.
“I did, too,” she said.
“You did?” he asked, coming into the kitchen space with her as she set out cream and the small sugar dispenser for their coffees.
“Yes, I went there to see if they had my phone,” she told him. “The bartender said she gave it to you already.”
“Oh, then I guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t planning on keeping it,” he joked.
She shrugged nervously. What was it about him that made her so wary? Every warning signal in her body triggered when he was around. He hadn’t done anything to warrant such a response, though. In fact, he’d come to her aid, had taken her all the way to the city to a hospital, then had driven her home. Then he’d got her phone back for her, and instead of scrolling through her contacts to tell one of her friends to come and get it, here he was in her apartment hand delivering it. She was starting to feel a little guilty for her hesitancy around him.
“Thank you so much for returning it to me,” she remarked as the coffee machine began percolating. Then she heard the first notes of Chopin’s Nocturne Number Nine coming over the sound system, which was built into every room and had controls to turn it down or section it off to just certain rooms. When she was home alone, which was basically all the time, she let it fill the whole apartment with sound. “Oh, gosh. Let me turn that off.”
“No, it’s cool,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Avery asked and touched the screen on the wall to lower the decibel. He nodded. She watched, fascinated at his comfort level as he took down two white mugs from the glass front cabinet over the coffee machine. She slowly approached him again.
“How do you take yours?” he asked. “No, let me guess.”
“Okay,” she agreed with a crooked grin.
“Cream and sugar, extra sugar, extra cream,” he said with a tilted head and a smirk.
Avery frowned. “Yes.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
What did that mean? She hated admitting she took her coffee that way. It seemed like he was mocking her. He just nodded and added both ingredients to her mug. Then he poured coffee into both mugs from the carafe and handed hers to her. She accepted it but wished she hadn’t made it at all. “Thank you.”
He strolled casually toward the wall of glass again and looked out. “You like living here? On your parents’ property?”
“Um, yes, very much,” she said.
“Don’t want to move away, get a place somewhere on your own?”
Another insult. “No, why would I? I have a place of my own. This allows me to save most of the money I earn, too. In a few years, I’ll be able to buy a home for cash.”
“This is awfully big for one person,” he gestured around.
“It was an unused space before, just storage,” she explained, not sure why she was doing so. “My father loves architecture. I was ready to move out, start my career…”
“Your career? You’re nineteen. Shouldn’t you just be in college, going to frat parties, getting drunk and dating boys on the lacrosse team and all that?”
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “No, I’m not really into that scene.”
“How do you know?”
Her feathers were feeling ruffled. “Because I’m just not. Besides, I did go to college.”
“Didn’t like it?”
“No, I did. I took online courses for almost three years. I didn’t feel I needed a full degree. I took what I needed to work in the field I enjoy.”
“And what field is that?”
“Graphic design,” she answered and got a confused look from him. “I design websites or redesign them. I use original designs that can’t be mimicked. I work on ad campaigns, too, but those aren’t quite as interesting most of the time. I like visual art, challenging the perspectives and perceptions people have on the traditional. I use a lot of my own photography, photos I’ve taken and copyrighted.”
“You like photography,” he stated more than questioned, which was a strange way of putting it.
“Yes, very much so,” she admitted.
“Are you one of those people who likes taking pictures but doesn’t like having theirs taken?”
She bristled. “Maybe.”
He nodded slowly as if he were assessing her. Avery didn’t like that.
“Do you play that?” he asked, confusing her at the change of subject.
She looked behind her at her cello standing in the corner and nodded. “Yes, we all play instruments. Music is important to my family.”
She watched as he also assessed the room, turning and sipping his coffee, his eyes roaming. They returned to settle on her. Avery squirmed and cupped her hand over the back of her bare neck. Her skin was still damp under her clothing.
“No t.v.?”
“No,” she answered plainly.
“At all?”
“No, none at all. None in my parents’ home, either. They don’t believe in watching television.”
“They don’t…” he repeated with surprise in his voice and then stopped. “Hm.”
“It’s not good for your mind,” she stated, defending their choices, feeling judged again. She was used to this, people’s judgment of her family’s lifestyle choices.
“You got that right,” he agreed. “So, no t.v. means no video games, either.” She shook her head. He took a step closer. She backed up one. “Then what do you do for fun?”
He was grinning in a funny way that made Avery wonder what he meant by that.
“We go outside. My mother encourages us to spend as much time as possible outdoors. We go for hikes and…things like that.”
“What about in the winter?”
“We all read a lot, also still go outside. There’s a pond at the bottom of our property, a runoff from a stream. We ice skate on it. We sled ride on our neighbor’s farm. We still go for long walks. It’s good for the mind being outdoors.”
“I’d have to agree with that,” he said.
“Do you like going outside and doing things, too?”
“Like playing?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to smile. He didn’t smile, though. She didn’t remember him smiling at the bar, either. Perhaps that was why she was so leery of him. It wasn’t just that he was so dark; he was also serious all the time.
“Playing?” she croaked, her voice cracking. Why did that sound so sexual when he said it? Everything about him seemed sexual. His muscles, the tattoos, the darkness within him, the severity of his stare. “Uh…sure?”
He didn’t answer but stared up at the ceiling. “Nice beams. This place has really interesting architecture. I’ve seen stuff like this before.”
“Really? Where?” she asked, engaging in conversation again since he didn’t continue with the talk of ‘playing.’ She had a strange feeling Tristan didn’t mean some of these comments the same way she did. Her cheeks were turning pink. She could feel them heating up. Avery took a sip of her coffee to cool them. If he noticed her blushing, he’d think she was weird.
“A few places in Croatia. They use a lot of wood in their ceiling architecture, too. The old places. Most of the walls are stone, though.”
“Why were you in Croatia?”
&n
bsp; He glanced at her but didn’t answer. Perhaps it was for a military thing he couldn’t discuss, so she let it drop.
“If you don’t watch t.v., then how do you get your news?”
He sure did jump topics a lot. She indicated the flat media screen on the wall again. It was a ten-inch touchpad that controlled the heating and cooling system as well as the sound system and lighting for the automatic bulbs. “The radio. There’s no lack of sources to obtain the news. It doesn’t just need to come from the television. Most of the news on the television is lies anyway.”
“How do you know that if you don’t watch it?”
She tilted her head to the side with irritation, “Just because I don’t watch it at home doesn’t mean I’ve never seen it. My friends all have televisions. I’ve seen the news channels. They don’t just report stories; they give their opinions, too. That’s not news. That’s trying to convince, to persuade. We’re not a jury listening to the closing statements of a trial lawyer. We just need the basic facts so that we can form our own opinions. But they don’t want that. They want to tell us what to think.”
He was quiet for a few moments, which made Avery fidget again. “I suppose that’s true. I’ve never really thought of it that way, but you’re right. I’m used to people telling me what to do and how to think.”
Outside, it thundered hard enough to rattle the windows. Lightning struck closer, illuminating the living room, which was only lit with low-level bulbs already dimmed down. She should’ve adjusted that when he came in. Avery liked the lighting dim, so she never turned the recessed lighting up all the way. Now the lightning lit the whole room with a silvery haze, which flashed across Tristan’s face. It made him seem even more sinister.
“You don’t seem like the sort of man who would allow anyone to tell him either,” she commented.
Tristan walked over closer until less than a foot of empty space stood between them. He was a lot taller than her at five-feet-five inches. He was definitely over six feet.
“No?”
Lightning struck again, which caused his blue eyes to glow momentarily. Avery looked down at her coffee, then back up at him. He was outright staring, which made her uncomfortable. A lot about Tristan made her uncomfortable. And then a floodgate of memories opened up, which caused her cheeks to burn.
“Um…about the other night,” she said and turned to walk to the kitchen sink for a respite from his stare. She dumped the remainder of her coffee and ran water in her mug. When she turned around, she ran into Tristan’s wide chest. “Oh, sorry!”
He just stepped to the side and reached around her to set his own mug in the sink. Avery backed up until her bottom bumped into the lower cupboards of the island overlooking the living area.
She started over, “The other night. I’m so sorry if I was behaving strangely or…um, I don’t know. Weird? I don’t remember much actually. I just have this strange feeling I should apologize.”
“That’s not a problem,” Tristan said and leaned back against the skirted copper sink. He crossed his arms over his chest, which made them seem even more imposing. He was wearing another t-shirt, this one white with red poppies scattered on the front and the poem “In Flanders Field” scrolled over them. She knew the WWI reference. His tattoos were on full display. Even they seemed intimidating.
“No, really,” she said nervously and toyed with her fingers in front of her. “I don’t remember what I said, but somehow I…um, well, I woke up upstairs…”
“In your teepee?” he said in a teasing tone but still did not smile.
“Yes,” she said and covered her face with both hands. Oh, geesh. This was so embarrassing. Why didn’t she just take her phone at the door and tell him thank you and send him on his way?
“I know,” he remarked.
She felt his thick fingers grip her wrists and pull them away from her face. He was close again, but this time Avery couldn’t back up. She already had the counter against her back.
“You were pretty excited to show me your teepee,” he said.
“Ohhh!” she exclaimed and covered her face again.
Again, his hands folded around her wrists and pulled them down.
“It was pretty nice,” he commented. “As far as teepees go, I assume.”
“No!” she declared with a laugh. “Stop! This is too much. I’m so embarrassed.”
“You invited me to sit in it with you,” he stated, and this time she could tell he was messing with her with factual points that were totally humiliating. She yanked free since he was still holding her wrists and smashed her hands over her eyes. “That was pretty nice of you. I’ve never been invited into anyone’s teepee before.”
“Noooo! I did? Oh, this is so embarrassing.”
“I especially liked the little twinkly lights,” he teased.
“Oh, no! Please stop talking!” she pleaded. “No more!”
She thought she heard him chuckle once. “Oh, there’s more all right.”
“No, please.” She couldn’t even look at him.
“You invited me to come back another time.”
“I did?” she asked, lowering her hands. That’s good. At least that part wasn’t embarrassing. Misleading maybe, but not rude. It showed good manners.
“To play in the woods,” he said with a smirk of self-satisfaction.
“What? No!” her hands automatically covered her face this time. He would have none of it, though. This time when she jerked free, Tristan tightened his grip.
“Hide and seek to be more specific,” he said.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, taking the Lord’s name in vain. He’d understand. This was truly the depths of humiliation.
“With the kids,” he said.
“No more, please. I beg you,” she pleaded.
He laughed. He actually threw his head back and laughed, a loud, throaty sound. He had beautiful, straight, and very bright white teeth that stood out against his dark stubble. Beautiful teeth? What in the world?
“I’m so glad my pure and utter shame amuses you,” she commented while trying to seem angry.
“It’s entertaining I must admit,” he said, sobering. “I’ve never had anyone offer to ‘play’ with me. Well, not since I was about eight.”
She attempted to slug his chest but wasn’t able to succeed because he was still holding her wrists. Tristan’s gaze became hooded as he held her wrist in his thumb and forefinger and kept it pressed against his chest. He immediately released her and stepped back.
“My humiliation could not be more thorough, I assure you,” she stated.
“Don’t do drugs,” he warned.
She scoffed, “I guess so.”
He looked around one last time, his dark gaze falling on anything but her. Then he announced, “I should go. Thanks for the coffee. Raincheck on the hide and seek offer.”
She blushed and shook her head.
“Okay, yes, I should work,” she said, feeling stupid.
She slipped on her loafers and walked him down.
“Oh, wait,” she remembered. “I have something for you. Well, for you and your friends. Um, can you follow me to the house? I’ll give it to you there.”
His heavy left eyebrow shot up inquisitively.
“It’s not a dead toad or something. I promise,” she explained, watching the barest hint of a lopsided grin form on his mouth.
“Okay, teepee girl,” he said as she retrieved an umbrella. “Lead the way.”
This was going to kill two birds with one stone. She wouldn’t have to go to the base tomorrow, and she wouldn’t have to see Tristan ever again. It was the perfect plan.
Chapter Nine
Tristan held the umbrella, which they shared per her insistence, but he mostly held it over her and fast walked the short distance to her parents’ house.
“Come on in,” she offered.
“That’s okay,” he said. “I can wait out here.”
“No, come in,” she insisted again and kept going forwa
rd into the wide foyer, expecting him to follow.
Tristan did so and set the umbrella in a copper umbrella stand near the entry door so that it didn’t drip everywhere. He’d seen the inside of Dr. Andersson’s office, but it was mostly a wall of glass and the rest built-in bookcases full of medical journals and books on psychology. This part of the house was nothing short of a glass-enclosed ranch-style mansion from the 1960s or something similar. The entryway contained built-in bench seating where people could put on their shoes, and hooks for coats and scarves. The space was two stories high with an interesting chandelier with gold globes that gave off a nice, warm glow. The home was huge, too, with a long layout and massive kitchen straight ahead, which was where she went. He followed and stole quick glances around at the amazing home.
“It’s just in here,” she said, disappearing into another room.
Tristan waited a moment, taking in the long, extremely long, table where they probably dined. The lighting fixtures over the table were obviously something custom made, more like white fabric covered large spheres that gave off a soft ambient glow. He stepped all the way into the kitchen, which was designed very similarly to Avery’s with the same woodwork, cupboard style, and color scheme in the granite countertops and backsplash. There were two sinks, one in the peninsula, which must’ve been fourteen feet long, facing the dining and living areas, and one closer to the refrigerator against the back wall where the cooktop was also located. Built-in double ovens were next to the cooktop. The peninsula didn’t have overhead cupboards to block the view of the rest of this wing of the house. Everything was well thought out and executed with unusual, high-end materials.
He could see the living room, which was two steps down in a sunken style and slightly to the left of the dining area straight across from the kitchen. The furniture looked comfortable and was, surprisingly enough with so many children, done in off-white tones and cotton fabrics with two additional, tan leather sofas, as well. The walls and ceilings were either wood or glass, which gave it a vintage vibe but also a Scandinavian quality. The wall of glass and what appeared to be sliding pocket glass doors beyond the living room led out to a patio where lush vegetation grew. He could only see a little bit of it with the landscaping lights on outside, but Tristan imagined it was quite spectacular during the day. From his seat on Dr. Andersson’s therapy sofa in her office, he could see the other side of the yard, which was full of landscaping and old trees and a hammock on a wooden base under a tree. The place with all its windows and wood and green outdoor space was the epitome of Zen tranquility.
