by Kate, Jiffy
“Uh,” I start, but I’m unsure how to finish.
“As soon as you’re finished with the glasses, come back to my office and I’ll show you up.”
“Up?” I ask, dumbly, because I’m having a hard time following him.
“Yes, Avery. Up.” He cocks his head to the side and I have to swallow hard because of the extra moisture in my mouth. What the hell? What is wrong with me? “The apartment is up.” He points a finger up to the ceiling and it puts those damn tattoos on display again.
In all honesty, I’ve never been one of those girls who’s crazy about every hot guy who crosses her path. That’s not me. Maybe it’s because I was Brant’s girl for so long, as long as I’ve been allowed to have a boyfriend. But even before then, I don’t remember feeling all swoony over guys. I didn’t plaster my bedroom walls with posters. I wasn’t a boy band groupie. I didn’t even like Twilight, so there was never a question of Team Edward or Team Jacob. Sure, I notice when a guy is handsome, but that’s usually where it ends. But not with Shaw and for the life of me, I can’t make sense of it.
“Why?” I finally ask, readjusting the crate to sit on my hip a little so I can give my arms a break.
“I think we both know there’s a very good chance that asshole is still in the city. I’m not letting you go home and get ambushed. Not on my watch,” he says, his attention leaving me and going back to the paper in front of him.
My mouth drops open at his high-handedness, but I can’t offer a rebuttal because he’s right. I hadn’t allowed myself to think much past my next task, but now that he’s mentioned it, going home, alone, is the last thing I want. Being alone with Brant doesn’t sit well with me at all and the thought leaves me feeling nauseated. That might also be my lack of dinner and all of the adrenaline that’s been pumping through my veins.
“You okay?” I hear his question before I realize he’s out of his chair and walking toward me.
“Yeah, fine,” I tell him, taking a deep breath to try and calm the resurgence of unease.
“How about I get one of the guys to finish these,” he says, taking the crate from me. “I’ll show you up to the apartment and let you get some rest.”
“Okay.” The fight in me is gone so I let him. Standing in the hallway, I lean against the wall and try take deep cleansing breaths. Now is not the time to lose my shit. It’s over. If I was going to freak out, it should’ve been when Brant showed up...or maybe when he decided I was his own personal punching bag. But not now. Now is the time to suck it up and get on with life.
“Everything’ll look better in the morning.” I hear my Mama’s voice in my head.
Right, Mama. It’ll look better in the morning. And Brant will be long gone, on his way back to Houston.
“Ready?” Shaw asks, holding out my backpack to me.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll call Sarah and ask her if there’s any food left from her class tonight. I’m sure there are a few cans of soup upstairs, but you look like you could use something more substantial.”
“Soup is fine. It’s what I eat every night.”
Shaw stops and turns to look at me and it’s like it’s the first time he’s really, truly seeing me. A wall he normally has up is down for a split second and I see him too. He genuinely cares about people. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t help those guys back in the bar and he wouldn’t have stood up to Brant. He also wouldn’t be letting me stay at his apartment tonight.
“Thank you,” I say quickly, breaking the connection, letting the moment pass. “For everything.”
“You’re not walking home by yourself anymore either.” His words come out unemotional and steady, just like always, like he’s offering them in passing.
“I—” I start to say I’m fine—my go-to response lately—but he cuts me off.
“It’s not up for debate. You shouldn’t be walking home alone. I should’ve thought about that before now.”
He opens the door at the end of the hallway and we step out into the blackness of the night. When I see him turn toward me, I back up against the door out of...habit? Fear? I don’t know, but it doesn’t settle well with Shaw.
“Don’t do that,” he demands.
“What?” I ask, licking my lips and swallowing hard, trying to keep my voice even like his.
“Act like you’re scared of me. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
I laugh a little, because it sounds preposterous. Both the way he said the words, in a gruff tone—making his delivery an oxymoron to his statement—and the idea. “I’m not scared of you.”
“Why did you just back up like that? Why do you look at me with wide eyes all the time?”
“I don’t...didn’t...I’m just.” I want to say flustered, unnerved...you ruffle my feathers, Shaw...but none of that comes out. Instead, I say, “I’m not scared of you.”
“Good.”
He turns for the set of stairs next to the door taking them two at a time. Since I’m shorter, it takes me a few more seconds to climb the stairs and by the time I get to the top, Shaw is waiting on me like he’s been there for hours. With a huff, he sticks a key into the lock and turns it, opening the door wide for me to step in ahead of him.
“It’s not much, but there’s a bed,” he says, walking over by the window and turning on a lamp that illuminates the rest of the small studio apartment. “And there’s a bathroom, microwave, fridge, coffee pot.” He turns in a circle as he points out all the necessities. “There should be staples in the cabinet and fridge. Sarah keeps the place pretty stocked.”
“Who lives here?”
“No one.”
“Then why’s it so...”
“Some of the guys who come through need a place to sleep for a night or two until I can find them a more permanent place.” He sighs and then absentmindedly, without intention, mutters, “And I used to stay here from time to time.”
“It’s nice,” I reply, liking this more open Shaw too much to push for more than he wants to give me.
“There might be some clothes that’ll fit you, if you want to shower.”
“That’d be great.” The thought of a hot shower sounds like bliss right now. I’d love nothing more than to wash away this day.
“I’ll, uh, leave you to it, then.” Shaw sort of stammers and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him act like he’s unsure of his next move. “I’ll, uh...go check and see what’s left over from class tonight.”
My eyes go wide at the thought of being here all alone and I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from voicing my fears. But I’m sure it’s safe. Shaw wouldn’t insist I stay here if it wasn’t.
“I’ll be back,” he assures, like he’s reading my thoughts. “Bring you something good to eat and make sure you’re locked in for the night.”
“Okay.” I swallow and offer him a small smile, staying glued to the spot on the floor until he closes the door behind him. Once he’s gone, I really allow myself to look around. There’s a weight bench in one corner with lots of heavy looking dumbbells. Next to that is one of those punching balls that hang from the ceiling. The source of Shaw’s muscles, I’m assuming, and this makes my brain take a detour straight to the gutter.
Shaw, sweaty and spent, grunting as he lifts the heavy weights.
Shaw, dripping wet, punching the bag as his muscles coil tightly under his inked skin.
Shaw laying on the bed, naked.
I clear my throat roughly and shake my head. “Get a freakin’ grip, Avery,” I mutter to myself, setting my backpack by the open door of the bathroom. Well, actually, there’s no door to the bathroom. That’s interesting, but I guess unnecessary, since people are usually here by themselves.
Or are they?
Does Shaw bring women here?
“Stop,” I growl at myself, stomping over to the small chest of drawers by the bed. Pulling the first drawer open, I find a stack of white t-shirts in varying sizes. Picking the smallest one, I go to the next drawer and find men’s underwe
ar and boxers, opting for the boxers. Since I’m nosey, I open the other drawer and find jeans and socks.
Interesting.
Seeing all of this for myself makes my heart feel so...I don’t know...full? I love people and I love helping them. I always have. The fact that Shaw goes to this extent to care for people who everyone else has discarded makes me feel good. It makes me feel good about Shaw.
I’ve always been an action speaks louder than words kind of person, and Shaw’s actions definitely speak loud. He might seem rough and menacing on the outside. His words might come out harsh and bite like a rattlesnake. But his actions...they aren’t loud and boisterous, but they are kind and good. He stands up for people who can’t stand up for themselves and it makes my heart feel kind of gooey where he’s concerned.
Of course, I won’t tell him that.
Gathering up my clean t-shirt and boxers, I head for the shower. Hesitantly, I turn on the water and look around the empty apartment before I shed my clothes. Feeling exposed, I quickly jump in the shower like it’s going to hide my naked body when in reality there’s only a sheer curtain hiding me from the rest of the apartment. I start out fast, finding the shampoo and lathering it in my hair, but somewhere between the conditioner and body wash, which all smells manly, I lose myself to the steam and hot water.
When I hear a thud, I let out a muffled scream and quickly rinse my hair and turn the water off, hiding behind the sheer piece of fabric as I peek out into the apartment. “Hello?”
No response.
My heart is nearly beating out of my chest when I reach over for a towel stacked beside the shower. Wrapping it around my body, I step out of the bathroom and call out again, “hello?”
There’s no one there, but I swear I heard something, so I quickly dry off and dress. Just as I’m tossing my hair up in the towel, I hear a knock, followed by Shaw’s voice. “Knock, knock.”
“Shaw?”
“Yeah, hey,” he says, walking in with a to-go box of something that smells amazing.
“Were you just here?”
“Uh, no...I.” He pauses, once again sounding flustered and my gut tells me he was here, but he doesn’t want to admit it. And then my cheeks flush as I think about what he might’ve seen when he says, “I just came in.”
“Okay.” I give him a small, nervous smile and hope my blush isn’t giving me away. I mean, what’s to be embarrassed about, right? I’m sure if he did see me naked...in the shower...it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.
Nope, nothing to see here.
It’s just me.
“Hope you’re hungry,” he continues, obviously wanting to change the subject as much as I do. “Sarah had leftovers. Good ones.”
I laugh lightly, folding the waistband of the boxers over a couple times to make sure they stay up. Shaw’s eyes follow my movements and now it’s his turn to swallow. Hard. Like, visible enough I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs. It’s hot.
Shit.
“Uh, aren’t all of her dishes good?” I ask, searching for safe, neutral territory that won’t make me feel like I’m burning alive from the inside out.
“Sure,” Shaw says with a shrug. “But some are better than others. I’m not a fan of chicken, so those I could take or leave. But shrimp.” His eyebrows dance above his dark eyes and for a split second, I think I’m going to get to see Shaw smile, but then his face changes back to the hard lines it’s used to wearing.
“I love shrimp.”
“Good, then you’ll love this shrimp étouffée.”
He’s right. I loved it. I loved it so much that I forgot about the events of the day. I forgot I was embarrassed that Shaw might’ve seen me naked in the shower. I might’ve even forgot my manners as I moaned my way through the dish.
“Oh my God,” I say when I finally push it away. “That was amazing. Tell Sarah I said thank you and compliments to the chef.”
Shaw’s eyes are on me and like always, his intense gaze makes me feel nervous. “I’ll tell her.” His words are gruff and his features are hard, but what’s new. I’m learning to not let the hardness of his outer expression affect me. “How about you tell me something about yourself?”
It’s a question, but I can’t tell if it’s accusatory or curious, so I play it safe. “What would you like to know?”
“You’re from Oklahoma...Honey Springs,” he offers.
I nod.
“And you were living in Houston before you came here?”
I nod again.
“What made you want to come to New Orleans?”
I think about it for a moment, not my reasons for coming here but how much of it to tell him and decide that he’s already seen me at my worse and I have nothing to hide. “When I woke up, the morning after Brant...”
“Hit you,” he offers an extra layer of hardness to his tone.
“Right. After he hit me, I passed out...or he knocked me out. All of that is kind of fuzzy. But when I woke up, I just knew I had to get out of there. I didn’t want to be around when he woke up. It was like a fight-or-flight moment and I decided to fly.” I shrug, pulling my feet up into the chair and hugging my legs to my chest. “I stopped for coffee shortly after leaving the apartment and considered my options. New Orleans was a place I’d always wanted to visit and never had the chance, so I took it. Plus, when I thought about it, it made me feel happy and alive. That’s what I want to feel. Every day.”
It’s Shaw’s turn to nod his head as he continues to watch me with a thoughtful look on his face. “I’m sure New Orleans is a far cry from Honey Springs.”
I let out a laugh and smile, just thinking about the small town and the farm I grew up on. “You could say that.”
“You like big cities?” he asks.
“I like this big city. Houston seemed like too much concrete and busy streets. I love it here, though. I love the culture and richness of the history, food, people, colors. Something about it just calls to my soul.”
“Your soul, huh?” Shaw leans back in his chair and rubs a hand over his short beard.
“Yeah,” I reply softly, feeling a bit like I’m being interrogated, but also like he’s genuinely interested.
“You like people.”
“I love people,” I correct.
He nods his head again and I almost expect him to admit he does too, but that’s not Shaw. He’s not one to put himself out on the line like that, so the nod is all I’m going to get.
“What else do you love?” he asks, catching me a bit off guard with the softness in his tone.
“Uh,” I pause, swallowing. “Well, I love sunrises and sunsets,” I tell him with a small smile. “I also love 80’s hair bands, my Mama’s meatloaf, December 26th, and riding on the back of a motorcycle.” They’re all random responses, but the first things that come to my mind, so I just let them all tumble out of my mouth, hoping he doesn’t make me regret it.
The raise of his eyebrow tells me I might’ve mentioned something he also loves and I wonder if he’ll tell me or continue to be stingy with information about himself. “You love motorcycles?”
I nod. “Yeah, well, I love riding dirt bikes and four-wheelers. Oklahoma girl, remember?” I smile almost expecting one back from him, but then remember who I’m talking to and continue, “my Daddy and Grandpa always fixed up old motorcycles, mainly Harley Davidsons. We had a few out on the farm and occasionally, I’d get to go for a ride.”
“I have a motorcycle,” he replies, his face losing a bit of the hardness as he continues. “1995 Fat Boy.”
“That’s the year I was born.”
Shaw gives me his typical huff. It’s not a laugh because his mouth doesn’t curve up at all, but it’s his way of telling me I’ve said something he finds ridiculous. “Of course it is.”
“I’d love to see it...your motorcycle,” I tell him, hoping our conversation doesn’t end here.
“You should go to sleep.”
“We don’t work tomorrow,” I counter, not liking him
telling me what I should and shouldn’t do. I’m a grown ass adult.
“Well, I’m sure you have things to do...on your day off.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m just loaded. So many social engagements and errands to run.” I roll my eyes and huff as I stand from the chair and walk over to the bed. “I’ve answered a lot of questions about myself, maybe you could tell me something about you.”
“Like what?”
I shrug, sitting on the side of the low bed. “I don’t know. Anything.”
“Why do you like December 26th?” he asks, standing from the chair he was sitting in and moving over to the weight bench which is closer to the bed.
“I said something about yourself, not more questions about me.”
“Well, that’s a weird thing to say, so I want to know why.”
“Because my family is always together and we never have anywhere to go or anything to do. My mama makes breakfast and we watch movies all day. So, it’s my favorite.”
“My parents immigrated here from Ireland in 1960.”
My eyes grow wide. “Like here, to New Orleans?”
“Well, they lived in New York for a while, but then they traveled south, looking for warmer weather and cheaper living.”
“They found the warmer weather, that’s for sure. I swear some days I sweat so much I feel like I’m going to die from dehydration.”
Shaw dips his chin to his chest and I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but then he says, “Yeah, my brother always says we’re being conditioned for hell.”
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
“Three brothers and one sister.”
“Are they older or younger?” I ask, keeping him on a roll while he’s actually answering my questions.
“Older. I’m the youngest and then Sarah, she’s ten years older than me. I was a mistake. None of them let me forget that. Then, there’s Shane, Shannon, and Sean.”
“Holy crap, your mother was trying to torture herself with all of those names starting with the same syllable.”
“Yeah, it was interesting when we were younger, although most of them were out of the house by the time I came around.” He shifts on the bench and I almost offer him a spot on the bed, but then think better of it. I like talking to him and I don’t want to do anything that’ll send him running. “Do you have siblings?”
