Love Shack (Tiny Houses, Big Hearts)

by Roxy Mews

  Soon he had his coffee and she had her tea and pretzels. She sat on the bench couch and dropped the Nutella jar between her legs, and the bag of pretzels next to her. If she was being a good host, she’d have offered some to Brandon, but she had been the polite, happy chick all day. She was home, and this guy was going to have to deal with her in her natural state.

  “I still don’t get why you’re acting upset.” He grabbed a pretzel for himself, but didn’t reach for the jar of hazelnut goo.

  It was a smart move on his part.

  “I’m insane. Just ignore me. Or take your car and head into town. I’m tired, and I just want a little nap.”

  Felicity was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but she could lie down and ignore reality with a book at the very least.

  He sipped his coffee and eyed her without saying much. Felicity downed the cup of tea and headed up to the bedroom. She needed some decompress time. It might have been her introvert side, or it might have been that smiling that much in such a short period of time wore her down more than she thought it would. Either way, she needed some space. It was the first time since she’d moved into a tiny house that she’d wished it was bigger.

  This was only day two. She wondered how she’d ever make it to day thirty.

  Chapter Twenty

  Brandon watched her climb up to her bed and frowned into his coffee cup. The woman was obviously out of her mind, or had some kind of mental issues if she was down on herself.

  He’d watched her when she’d done the interviews. She needed to get a grip. The news reporters were eating out of her hand, and for the first time in his career, Brandon was ready to admit he might have been a bit hasty in turning her away.

  The tiny house thing was ridiculous. Especially in moments like the one he was about to awkwardly stumble through, a bit of space was a great idea. He wished he had a room he could head to and close the door, but there was no real way to escape his roommate. He could even see her tossing and turning on her bed at the moment.

  He was getting a bit wired on the coffee too. Leaving wouldn’t be a bad idea. He thought for a moment about telling her he was leaving, but she turned on some kind of show, and he heard her settle. She’d told him to leave, so that was exactly what he did.

  Unfortunately he found himself driving to the very artisanal community she’d taken him to. If he ended up back around his job or his apartment, he would have been bombarded. Brandon’s email had been full to the point he didn’t want to deal with half of it. He was the subject of gossip. He wanted to believe that he didn’t have much of a life to warrant the talk. He wanted to go back to his normal daily grind and pretend this publicity stunt was not part of his reality. But it was and he couldn’t go back.

  His boss had made sure he knew what was going on, and the bank had never been busier. Even regular savings account signups had an uptick.

  Brandon didn’t want to think about the other publicity item his boss had suggested. So he didn’t.

  The resale store had a bunch of televisions in the window today. They were all tuned into the news. The governor had begun a crusade to pass laws to protect women’s safety. In other words, he was trying to get women’s health centers that offered abortion services shut down. He would be campaigning for support of the bill during the day, and attending charity galas at night. There was a huge yearly fundraiser in about a week. Some big shindig that ended up splattered all over the gossip magazines. Brandon had to wonder if the politician was going to support a cause or whip up a goodwill story of his own.

  Currently the local legislative body held a supermajority that tended to vote in his favor. Even amidst the ample protests, it was likely the governor would have a bill to sign by the end of the week. It would be good for the big kahuna to get his name in a magazine and have people talk about what he was wearing instead of what he was signing.

  Brandon was still shaking his head as he crossed the street, following the scent of apple pie. The bell on the door of Woodwickery rang loud.

  “You want how much for a candle?”

  A shiver went up Brandon’s spine as he turned and saw the newswoman who had gotten him into this mess.

  Deborah stuck her nose in the candle, and eyed the salesman.

  “Do I get a deal if I buy a bunch?”

  “Only if you buy a case of twelve.”

  Deborah inhaled the candle again. “Do you have twelve of this same smell?”

  The salesclerk looked taken aback. “Um…yes.”

  Deborah put down the candle and dug out a credit card. “I’ll take two dozen.”

  She picked up the candle and tested the weight in her hands. Then she went back to her purse and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. “And if you haul them to my car, I’ll pay you the discount in cash.”

  The kid had the money in his pocket before she could finish the sentence.

  Deborah was signing when Brandon came up behind her.

  “A fireplace would have been cheaper,” he told her.

  “Probably, but dammit, I think they put MSG in this. Or crack. Or something highly addictive. I burned through the one Felicity sent over in a couple days.”

  Brandon grabbed one of the business cards by the register and tucked it in his wallet. Now that he knew they gave bulk discounts, he might use this place for Christmas gifts for his employees. At least the office would smell like home. Well, it would smell like her home, and something about that thought was way too comforting.

  He ended up helping the kid get the candles into the back of Deborah’s car.

  “Do you need a job, Mister? I know my uncle is short staffed. He doesn’t pay all that great, but you get a hell of a discount on the candles.”

  “If only my electric company took payment in candles. Then I’d be all over this,” he told the kid.

  “Chicks dig the candles.” He pointed to Deborah, who still had her nose buried in apple pie. “It might not be the sexiest way to get a chick, but I’ve gotten to second base from one of the peppermint ones.”

  Brandon laughed. “If I’m hard up, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The owner’s nephew went back into the shop.

  “If you were going to haul them for me, why didn’t you say so? I wouldn’t have paid the kid.” Deborah dropped her purse through the lowered passenger window of her car.

  Brandon pulled the little yellow slip from the windshield wiper and handed it to the lucky news lady. “You could have saved more if you weren’t parked illegally.”

  “Like I was walking all the way from the end of the next block. This was worth it…what? A hundred twenty-five dollars? Are the cops considered artisan too?” She got a look on her face that reminded Brandon of how he’d ended up in a tiny house.

  “Got a whiff of a news story?” he asked.

  “Wondering if I do a bit on parking tickets, if I can write off my own as an investigative expense.” She shook her head and put the ticket back on the windshield. “I’m already marked. Might as well get some food. You hungry?”

  “Not really, but I’m not going to say no if you take the poor sap you manipulated for a story to get some gelato.”

  They were both sitting at a table outside the gelato shop within five minutes.

  “I’m going to pretend this doesn’t have calories, and that you aren’t cheating on your bet to live in the tiny house.”

  “I’m not cheating.”

  “You’re supposed to be staying in the house or living the lifestyle with Felicity.”

  “She kicked me out.”

  “Already? Damn. I figured you’d make it at least five days before she lost that polite chick act she’s working.”

  Brandon let the Nutella gelato melt on his tongue. “You think it’s an act?”

  Deborah took longer than he expected to respond, but then again…gelato was delicious. “I think she’s got secrets.”

  He thought about that dress he’d seen. Deborah wasn’t wrong about the secrets part. He kept
his expression neutral and used the smile he always kept in reserve for customers. It was a way of blocking his real opinion from the people around him. It didn’t always work out for him, but he gave it his all this time.

  Because while he might be enjoying this conversation with Deborah, she was a reporter. When she watched the people around them, she occasionally took notes on her phone. He wasn’t going to make Felicity even more of a target than she already was. She was exhausted from the interviews, and he wasn’t sure she’d handle what would come next if she became a human interest story for her own life instead of just for her business dealings.

  Brandon had no idea if he’d pulled off holding his own against the woman’s investigative instincts, but he could only hope he was getting better at it. At any rate, realizing she wasn’t going to get anything out of him, Deborah moved on. “We have some more interviews scheduled when you both hit the one week point of your stay in the tiny house. Then again at the halfway point. Are you sure you’re going to be able to hack it? Especially considering there’s already trouble in paradise?”

  “I have to admit, I’m going nuts not going into work. I’ve had a handle on everything that’s gone down in that bank for the last five years. I don’t even know how many loans they’ve given out, because a lot of the information is on a secure server that can’t be accessed remotely. I’m still checking emails, but it’s not the same.” The gelato was gone, and the heavy cream was leaving a sour spot in his stomach the more he thought about what was missing from his day. He really was a control freak. He’d joked about it in passing, but realizing that he felt ill at the thought of not knowing every detail definitely hammered that point home.

  “Most people can’t really go on vacation. It’s usually more of a problem for the creative types. My sister is a writer, and she never stops working. We went to Disney World and she started trying to interview Ariel. Those people are trained not to break character, and my sister had the woman’s cell phone number to get information about what goes on in the park after hours.”

  “Does your sister work for a newspaper?” he asked.

  Deborah laughed. “Nope. She writes romance. And not the fade to black stuff.”

  Brandon had no idea how to respond to that.

  Deborah frowned and poked him. “There is nothing wrong with a woman having a healthy sexual appetite and expressing that in her work.”

  Brandon looked around. A few people were staring.

  “I’m sure there’s not. I should get back to the tiny house.”

  “Maybe that’s why you two are having issues. You need to get the stick out of your ass.”

  Brandon turned to try and say…something, but Deborah got a call and went rushing out of the shop. It was probably for the best.

  “You should look to see if children are around before having loud vulgar conversations.” A woman told him while holding the shoulder of her small daughter.

  “Momma, what does vul-gar mean?”

  Brandon ran out the door. He was about to give up and head back to the safety of the tiny house, but something caught his eye. He needed to make a purchase first.

  * * * * *

  Felicity woke up from her impromptu nap to the smell of bacon. She loved bacon. She loved the smell of it, but this was the first time in over a year she’d woken up to someone doing something in her house besides her. The handful of times she’d brought a date into her tiny home, only one had asked to stay the night, and when he whacked his head against the low bathroom sliding door, he left cussing instead of asking for a second date.

  The window over the stove was open, and she had to admit, she was impressed that Brandon remembered how to cook after only watching her once. She would have expected him to ignore the specific things he had to do and just make her do things he didn’t want to learn.

  Now if he’d just stop grumbling about the toilet.

  “I know it’s supposed to be a breakfast food, but as much as it cost from the butcher down the street, this is the main course tonight.”

  Felicity looked at the perfectly peppered bacon steaks sizzling away low and slow in the pan. She probably drooled.

  “You had him give you his heart attack cuts.” Felicity smiled. It was one of her favorite things to treat herself with.

  “William said this was what I needed to get to get back on your good side.”

  “William? You actually bothered to learn his name?”

  Her roommate put a lid on the pot and turned the pot handle inward to make sure he didn’t bump it when he leaned against the counter. It blocked the smell a bit, but was the perfect way to cook the meat evenly all the way through. Felicity had to admit she was impressed. Either she should reconsider her first impression of this guy, or he’d been abducted by pod people.

  Even if he was a pod person, he was being polite and he’d brought bacon, so Felicity didn’t think she’d want to trade him back for the grumpy model.

  “I figured I’d better learn the name of the guy who I’d be seeing on a daily basis since this place has no storage.”

  Well, so much for trading in the grumpy model.

  “I’m not going to engage in a fight when you have a heart attack steak sizzling away. Can I help with the sides?”

  Her reluctant roommate held up a finger and then pulled a bowl from the fridge covered with a plate. He lifted the plate off and a delicious looking fresh greens salad was inside.

  “I figured I’d toss the dressing I bought on it after you woke up.”

  “Sorry about falling asleep like that.” She wasn’t really, but since he was being moderately polite, she figured she should return the favor. And the bacon helped keep her from being all that upset.

  “No you’re not.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “I want to talk about what secrets you’re trying to keep from Deborah,” he said as he leaned his body fully against the counter and crossed his arms.

  This was an area to tread in lightly.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He pushed off the counter and pulled open her small stove. After removing the lid off the pan and placing the bacon in the oven to finish, he set a timer on his watch and refocused on her again. “We have eight minutes for you to tell me what it is that Deborah has the scent of. She knows something is up, and I think you should tell me so she doesn’t blindside me with it in this interview she’s got planned for later this week.”

  Felicity took in the arch of his brow. He’d widened his stance. He looked like he had something on her, but then he rolled his left shoulder. It was the one he’d favored when he went to sleep. He always seemed to do it before he smiled during an interview. She grinned. It was always useful to figure out someone’s tell.

  He was fishing for information. He’d seen the dress, but she didn’t think he had any clue where it was from. Otherwise the conversation they’d had would have gone in a completely different direction.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah. You do. You’re just not going to tell me.” He rolled both shoulders and grabbed the salad dressing out of the three quarter sized fridge. He shut it hard, but didn’t show any kind of frustration on his face by the time he turned back around.

  Felicity had to admit that he was good at holding in his emotions from a distance, but she could see his jaw tick, and a vein in his head pulse up close like this. She usually kept everything to herself, and she knew she hadn’t slipped at all since they’d been hanging out together. She prayed she wasn’t talking in her sleep again. That would be the only downfall. But nine times out of ten, if she did talk in her sleep, it was gibberish.

  She figured she should say something, so she went for vague. “I’m going to tell you that everybody has a past. Mine does not contain orange jumpsuits or illegal activity, so there’s no reason for me to bring it up to the surface.”

  Although him talking about her secrets, having seen her dress, she felt a lot of raw wo
unds threaten to open up again. Slapping a mental bandage over her heart, she grabbed two forks, the dressing and tossed the salad.

  “I’m all for keeping our private lives private, but I wanted you to know that Deborah smells something like a good story on you. She doesn’t seem like the type to let go easy. If you let me in on what topics to avoid, it might help me not put my foot in my mouth.”

  He had to make sense. Felicity thought about the string of interviews and how she’d nearly buckled under the heat of the day and the tenacity of their questions. She thought about the news they’d dropped on her without warning. The fan mail, the donations… “Don’t discuss awards shows or my dress.”

  “Do I get any reason behind that?”

  “No.”

  He thought about what she was saying and unfolded his arms. He might not forget about the desire to pump her for information, but he was at least letting it drop. “You realize we are living in extremely close quarters. We are going to need to talk about something. We are going to have to get to know each other at least on a friendly level.”

  “What other level would we get to know each other on?”

  The question slipped out before she could stop it, and she really should have stopped it. But all she could think of was his thin pajama bottoms, and her mouth wouldn’t shut up.

  “I don’t know.” He licked his lips and opened his mouth, and his timer went off.

  Felicity went to work finishing up and plating their meal. He didn’t seem like he thought of her as anything other than a nuisance, and that was good. She didn’t need someone who was a workaholic at a big business. She’d seen how all that played out before. She’d rather have a real man.

  Brandon bent over to pull the bacon steaks from the oven, and a wash of heat swept over her as his slacks cupped around his ass. The temperature of the room should have dropped once Brandon shut the oven, but Felicity couldn’t seem to cool off.