by Roxy Mews
“Are you thinking of backing out of our little wager? Can’t even make it one night in my home?”
“I didn’t say that.”
She looked closer and she saw him focus on her hair. He kept looking at her hair. He put the hand that wasn’t holding the water bottle in his pocket and shifted his weight. This man was so out of his element.
She wanted him to be understanding of her, and it was plain to see she’d have to work with her understanding of him a bit as well.
“You need to let go of all those judgments and start over. Whatever you think of me or my lifestyle is pretty irrelevant since you are going to be living it with me for the next month. So perhaps, we should both stop thinking we know what the other person is like, and just get to know each other without preconceived notions.”
His shoulders relaxed and he nodded. It looked a bit like he was giving up, but at least if he was still judging her, he was being less overt about it. He was trying. His hands gestured around as he spoke.
“We are going to be close. I still don’t know why you wanted to do this, but you’re opening your home to me. The least I can do is be a good guest.” He perked up for a second. “And hey, I did get a bonus for the good press for the bank. We should go out and buy something nice for your home to celebrate. Like a housewarming gift.”
Felicity smiled. “That would be lovely.”
“How about a real toilet?”
Chapter Ten
The tiny string of shops they went to could have all fit inside one giant superstore, and still left plenty of room for a food court. One of the businesses sold nothing but pickles. One sold used books. Why would you want something someone else had read and had their grubby hands all over, Brandon couldn’t fathom. That whole store had smelled like his grandma’s house. But like he promised, he had been a good guest and went with Felicity.
She was trying to show him about minimalist living. She sold the books she had already read and bought new ones.
“I thought you had an e-reader,” he reminded her as he opened the door for her on their way out.
He took a deep breath of fresh air. There was obviously a bakery nearby. It smelled like apple pie all of a sudden.
“I do have one. But I find something comforting about flipping the pages while I sit in the window seat and drink my coffee. It’s something I used to do as a kid.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “Only now I get to actually go outside and experience things too.”
She grabbed his hand, and Brandon was shocked as he felt his own lips tip up at her enthusiasm. “Where are you dragging me off to now? I’m supposed to live in this house with you, and aside from tossing my bags into your loft, I haven’t spent more than five minutes in the place.”
She tugged his hand harder and the smell of apple pie intensified. “You really don’t get the point of minimalistic living.”
“Nope. I am perfectly happy being able to stand upright in my bedroom.”
She let go of his hand and danced around behind him. Before he could ask what crazy thing she was up to, her tiny hands covered his eyes.
“What are you doing?” He tried to pry her off, but she slapped at his arms until he left her alone.
“What do you smell?” she asked.
“Besides your palm sweat?”
She slapped his forehead then recovered his eyes.
He couldn’t help but laugh. The last woman to slap him upside his head was his grandmother. It was usually followed by her telling him to use some brain cells, and then she’d give him a cookie.
“What do you smell?”
“It smells like apple pie.”
She wiggled against his back, and he felt her chuckle. It warmed something inside him to hear her laugh.
“What do you hear?”
He knew he’d have to give this woman what she wanted or living with her would be impossible. What the hell? He was in a part of town where he didn’t know anyone, and he was standing holding a bag of used books, with a woman covering his eyes. Might as well take one more step into this alternate universe.
The sounds around him were just noise for a minute, and then he started to try and pick out a few things to appease his captor.
“I hear a motor. Probably from a moped or other small bike.”
“It is a moped. Where do you think it’s headed?”
“How the hell should I know?”
She uncovered his eyes and he saw a baby blue moped halfway down the road taking its sweet time.
“Wanna follow him?” she asked.
“Why?”
She danced back around so she was in front of him and grabbed his hand again. “Because we could. My home can hitch onto my truck and I can go wherever I want, whenever I want. If I wanted to follow the guy on the bike three states over…I could. Because of this.”
She grabbed the bag of books from his hand and headed down the street.
“You could follow a strange man on a moped because of used books?”
Rolling her eyes, she pushed him through the door of a store called Woodwickery. The apple pie smell burst around him. So it wasn’t a bakery. It just smelled like one.
“I only buy what I’m going to use every single day. I only take into my home things that serve a purpose. And because of that, I have things around me every day that are important, valuable and enrich my life.”
She grabbed a pale brown candle off the shelf with a cross of wood where the wick should be. She pressed the glass jar to his face, and he smelled the aroma of apples and cinnamon. It made him smile.
“I like that.”
“These candles are amazing. Even when it’s too hot at night to run my wood stove, I can burn these and they fill the space with a lovely crackling noise.” Wiggling past him, she walked the small shop cradling her treasure.
She stroked the glass as though just touching the obviously recycled mason jar gave her some kind of peace. The tiny house didn’t contain many knickknacks. In fact, aside from a couple pieces of art, she didn’t seem to decorate at all.
Brandon thought for a minute about all the money he’d spent to have someone else come and put up sculptures, picture frames, and various paperweights to make his house seem more lived in. He still hadn’t put personalized pictures in all the frames. He wondered if Felicity would think he was wasteful.
It wasn’t like he didn’t appreciate what he had. It was just that sometimes it was more work to have things than it was to let them go.
Brandon shook his head. He hadn’t even been with this woman for three hours yet, and she was already messing with his thoughts. And now she was dragging some other poor sap around by the hand.
Brandon frowned at the twinge of regret that she wasn’t still touching him and dragging him around.
“Brandon Halston. This is Cedrick Meriwether. Cedrick owns and operates this candle shop with his wife. The apple pie you smelled? That was his wife’s essential oil mixture being combined with the beeswax he’s melting down.”
Brandon made sure to hold out his right hand, even though he usually shook with his left. For some reason, he felt better when Mr. Meriwether let go of Felicity.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Meriwether.” He shook hands like he always did.
The candle maker looked him up and down. “You’re a business man, aren’t you Mr. Halston?”
“I do manage a bank. Why?”
“Strong handshake. Formal introduction, and no emotion.”
His face never got such a workout. The time with Felicity was like a roller coaster ride. He felt like he was getting battered from the inside out. It was obvious he didn’t fit into this lifestyle. For some reason, that really bothered him.
“I suppose I do try and keep myself professional in a setting where I’m meeting someone new. But right now, I am buying my hostess a gift for opening her home to me.” Brandon motioned to the candle she was cradling. “It appears she wants one of your candles.”
Cedrick laughed. “The app
le pie fragrance is one we work once a week. Some days I think Miss Felicity here keeps the fragrance in business single handedly. She’s my best advertising.”
Felicity leaned in toward Brandon and whispered against his neck. Her breath was warm, and smelled like mint. “You don’t have to buy me anything. I buy one of these every week.”
“Since you won’t hear of me getting you a proper present, I find myself dying to take you shopping.” And surprisingly, he wasn’t lying.
Most people went about their errands with a chip on their shoulder. It was one of their chores that had to be completed. Felicity made it into a day out on the town.
Brandon had to remind himself that being career driven didn’t mean he was missing out on times like this. He simply evaluated where his time was best spent, and the office usually won out. He wanted to accomplish something in his life that would allow him to have the financial security and freedom he wanted as he grew old.
Funny thing was…this woman had both freedom and financial security now. She just did it with less stuff. This fact should have discounted her accomplishments to someone in his position. But a particularly inspiring speaker back in college had said something Brandon tried to live by—that you should always listen to every solution, because the journey doesn’t define the result, and being open to walking in other paths will make you the most successful.
Felicity was walking a different path, but some of her goals seemed strikingly similar to his own.
He expected to be uncomfortable during this experience. The fact that he was smiling, the fact that he was excited about the next stop on their trip shocked the hell out of him. He would have tried to distract himself, but realized he was locked in this space with his thoughts. And her.
Chapter Eleven
Felicity couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. She’d practically ran into the gelato shop. The large brass bell sounded like it was going to break through the glass as she swung the door open.
Maybe she didn’t need the sugar after all. But introducing someone to all the things she’d fallen in love with was intoxicating.
As soon as they entered the Italy Connection, Brandon asked, “What smells like s’mores?”
Seeing her big imposing banker carrying around all the logos of her favorite food shops gave her a smile that nearly split her face in half. He insisted on carrying everything. Felicity was a feminist, and she didn’t need anyone to take care of her, but with the extra hands she let herself splurge. She’d need more food in the house with a guest anyway.
Felicity decided to double her usual purchase when Brandon’s eyes had closed as he inhaled the delicious smells.
“They add roasted hazelnuts to the chocolate sauce. Want to get a cup to take home with us?”
“You would leave without it?”
Felicity had laughed as she acquired the dessert they would need to complete the dinner she couldn’t wait to cook.
She’d splurged and bought an entire quart of Nutella gelato, and a cup of the hazelnut sauce.
They swung into a small store where they picked up wine and some fresh fish filets for dinner. With a couple bagels from the bakery in hand for breakfast, they walked the few blocks back to where her truck would take them home.
“I would ask if it would be too much chocolate for you, but if you don’t like Nutella, I would just have to kick you out of my home.” Felicity turned down 2nd street on the way back to her truck on the edge of Main.
“Of course I like Nutella. Are you sure you don’t want to eat here?”
Her guest was getting worried about going home. She had her own reservations about where she would sleep tonight, but it was hard to be too worried when she could feel the sauce warming her hand through the recyclable container.
“The food will spoil. And you need to get used to the house. You are going to be staying with me for a month, remember?”
“How could I forget?” he mumbled as he climbed into the cab of the truck.
She looked over at him. His mood had turned quickly. “Be nice or I won’t share the chocolate sauce.”
She meant for it to be a joke, but something in his eyes told her he was thinking of something else entirely.
“Do you really leave without thinking about it?” he finally asked.
Felicity tucked a few hairs behind her ear, but the fresh air grabbed them again and the light curls were flying all around before she slammed the door of the truck. “I think about everything I do, I just don’t have the kind of landlocked ties that you do. If I want to up and travel across the country, I can do that.”
“You realize that’s not something really smart to tell your banker.”
She slapped the back of her hand against his chest. “Look at you…cracking a joke. I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. We’ll be back to your house soon, and I’m probably going to say something rude. So just try and remember when I was charming here.”
Sure enough, he put his foot in his mouth the second they took off. One ugly glare his way and it was quiet the rest of the ride to her house. Her passenger looked a little sick as they made the turn down the small road next to the cemetery.
Felicity realized she was sharing why she loved the area with Brandon this afternoon. Helping him discover all the little treasures in the small artisan township was sharing a bit of herself too. She’d adored the freedom the tiny house afforded, but this was the first time she’d had such a sense of home. Opening the doors to her tiny house wasn’t as important to her as him seeing why she was staying here.
She’d give him the benefit of the doubt, but Felicity wouldn’t put up with his attitude for much longer.
She pulled her key lanyard out from her purse and hung it around her neck. The key fell down the front of her blouse like always. She didn’t pay it much attention, but someone else did.
Brandon was staring. At her chest.
“You might think you’re charming,” she told him to draw his eyes back to hers. “But I assure you it’s a subjective assessment.”
He had the decency to look embarrassed at least.
She sighed. “I won’t tell Debbie if you want to stay at a hotel.”
“Do you think I can’t handle living in your shack?”
“Ti—ny—house.” She frowned at the thought that she’d just ground her teeth at the man next to her. Her mother used to do that to her. “I don’t want you here if you’re not going to give it a chance.”
“Miss Newhouse…”
“If we are going to share two hundred twenty-one square feet, I think you can call me Felicity.” She got out of the truck and unloaded their bags from the backseat. When she turned around, Brandon was standing behind her.
He took her bags. “I’m not used to being out of my element. Can we just go in?”
That was probably as close as Felicity was getting to an apology for his shitty mood. She’d have to take it. At least they’d bought wine. She hurried inside to get to the corkscrew.
She flipped on the lights and, despite the situation, she smiled. The light fixture was one she found at an antique shop in New Orleans. The wall art was from an artist in Philadelphia. By force of habit, she turned on some music. It was the first thing she did when she got home. Her hips swung to the gentle beat. She stopped and felt the heat rise up her cheeks when she heard the cough behind her.
Looking outside Brandon was still standing in front of the hay bale. It put his face right in line with her ass. Oops.
“Sorry. It’s a habit.”
His smile from Main Street was back. “You dance when you come home?”
She tried to grab the bags from him, but he swung them out of the way and she stepped aside to let him into the space. He watched the floor as he stepped on the hay bale and rubbed his shoes slightly on the fluffy mat at the entrance.
She’d sprung for a larger kitchen, so there was plenty of room to place all of their things. After placing the gelato in the freez
er, he handed her the candle.
“Why don’t you light this while I put the rest away?”
“Because there is a lot more than I usually have and it’s going to take some mad Tetris skills to make it fit.” Felicity struck a match and moved the candle to her foldaway table.
The light did its comforting glide up the walls, and the flame seemed to dance along with the quiet music.
She expected to turn around and find him struggling with her system, but he’d already pulled down two wine glasses and uncovered the corkscrew.
He asked about her wine rack as she put the bottles into a small space just off center of the sink.
“I like wine. It’s a vice that I have absolutely no intention of giving up.” She handed him the one bottle she didn’t set into the wine rack. “Pop that one in the freezer and we’ll be able to have a chilled drink sooner.”
A bit of alcohol didn’t sound bad at all. He seemed shocked when he opened up her three quarter sized refrigerator.
He tilted his head to the side as he said, “I thought all of these units have dorm sized fridges.”
“The best part of living small is figuring out what you want to have in your life that you are so determined to have, you’re willing to sacrifice something else.” She pointed to the galley style layout of the rest of the home. “I don’t have much of a lounge space, or much area to watch television. But I wanted a full kitchen and more of a bathroom than some.”
“That is more of a bathroom?”
She just shook her head. “I could show you some of the other sample layouts I have and remind you about where the space goes, but I have a feeling you won’t be able to see the big picture.”
“I always see the big picture. It’s why I’m a manager.”
He was nearly pouting. The big baby would have to deal with it.
“The big picture isn’t about a job,” she tried again. “And that’s why it would be hard for you to see it.”
Felicity turned away from him and began pulling pans and spices off various hooks and magnetized containers around her.
Brandon worked the corkscrew into a bottle of red best enjoyed at room temperature. She was glad he was finally doing something with his hands other than wringing them like an old woman worrying about the size of her bathroom.
