Love Shack (Tiny Houses, Big Hearts)

by Roxy Mews

  Realizing she was staring, Felicity turned and started grabbing some clothes out of her closet. “I’m going to go take a shower.” A cold one.

  “Do you mind if I go first? I have to meet my boss at nine, and I’d like to get there early.”

  She turned to him with a bra looped around her elbow, and the rest of her clothes in her grasp. “I thought the interviews weren’t until noon. Did I have the wrong time?”

  He poked his finger at the grounds and spun them around inside the hot water. That was obviously his cup.

  “No. The interviews are at noon. My boss wanted to prep me. Apparently, I’m not being eye-catching enough on camera for his taste.”

  “I don’t even see how that’s possible,” Felicity mumbled as she shut the closet door.

  When she turned back toward the kitchen, he was only inches away.

  “You’re going to give me an even bigger ego than I already have, Miss Newhouse.”

  She would have had a pithy comeback about how big egos didn’t fit in tiny houses, but all she could think of was what else he had that was plenty big. Her mouth open and closed twice before she managed to squeak awkwardly and clear her throat.

  “If you want a shower first, just let me know when you’re done.” Felicity went back up to her bedroom and plopped down throwing her comforter over her body.

  She laid there for a few seconds until she heard the bathroom door open and shut.

  “Great work, Felicity. You’re not being at all drool-faced over the banker with the babetastic body. Sure, let’s talk about his big ego, and everything else about him that’s big. No wonder the fucker is cocky. Every man packing what he is would be cocky. He’s the epitome of why they came up with the term in the first place. It does no one any good to be distracted by a delicious-feeling penis.”

  A throat cleared.

  There had to be a hole opening below her to swallow her into the depths of the ground. She was talking about the man’s dick, so of course he didn’t go into the shower like he said he was going to.

  Felicity slowly lowered the blanket to just below her eyes. There was no reason to show off the undoubtedly perfect shade of red she was rocking on her cheeks.

  “Babetastic?”

  Felicity pulled the covers back over her head. Yup. This was it. She was officially dying of embarrassment. She wasn’t sure what the medical code was for death by big mouth, but she was pretty sure her cheeks were going to combust.

  “I thought you were getting in the shower.”

  “Obviously, I’m not.” He sat on the bed and tugged at her cover.

  Felicity tried to keep the covers over her face, but with a quick yank from her roomie, she didn’t have a thing left to hide behind. She tapped her fingers on the bed before folding her arms, then laying them at her sides again.

  “Like you don’t know you’re attractive,” she finally said. “My subconscious is obviously infatuated with you, but we are living together for three more weeks, and I really don’t think…even if I wanted to, and I don’t…” She sat up and scooted as far back on the bed as the wall would let her. “I just think we should forget this happened, and I’ll sleep in the living room from now on.”

  She was waiting for him to agree with her, or argue with her, or do anything, but he just stared. With his eyes taking in way too much. Him looking at her was doing funny things to her body. The longer he looked, the more restless she felt. The lapse in words gave her time to remember exactly how she woke up this morning, and the warmth spread out from the center of her chest at how good he’d felt to snuggle on.

  “Are you going to take your shower now? Because if not, I’m getting in.”

  “You’re really uncomfortable with the fact that you’re attracted to me, aren’t you?”

  Of all the gall.

  He scooted closer. Felicity flattened her back to the wall.

  “Would it help if I told you I was attracted to you as well?”

  The warmth in her chest dropped down her torso and started smoldering at the apex of her thighs.

  “Is that why you didn’t move me last night?” she asked.

  He moved closer, and Felicity’s brain forgot to remind her who he was, and that this was a bad idea. Her pussy took over the thinking, and reminded her how long it had been since a sexy man had offered to pet her.

  Brandon leaned in. His eyes were a deep brown that reminded her of chocolate, and as he got even closer, she saw little golden flecks in them.

  Her breath came faster, and her chest lifted and fell with the sudden lack of oxygen in the room. Hormones were a bitch when they worked against common sense. Brandon’s eyes dropped to her chest, and he licked his lips before returning his attention to her face.

  He opened his mouth to say something, and the alarm blared on his phone. The shrill ring filled the air for at least thirty seconds before he moved from her to turn it off.

  The air gained a bit more oxygen and Felicity’s brain took back the steering wheel her vagina had hijacked. “I’ll go check on the coffee.”

  And just like that, she fled the scene of what would have been a hot and sweaty crime of passion. Her legs slick from the thought of what might have almost happened, Felicity realized she needed to start wearing underwear to bed. Even sleeping in the other room, the look in Brandon’s eyes would definitely play a big part in her dreams tonight. It was either that, or she’d be washing the sheets daily.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The meeting was more of an intel rundown than a prep for an interview. Brandon rubbed his hand over his face and stared at his boss with the same look of disbelief he’d had for the last hour.

  Showing up outside the news station was done for convenience. His boss had told him it would allow them time to talk as long as needed without causing Brandon to be late for the live on-air time. It could also allow Felicity to walk up at any moment, and Brandon found himself constantly looking over his shoulder and around the patio greenery in front of the building.

  “You can’t think this woman is some kind of con artist,” he said after making sure there was no one he knew walking by.

  “Well, she’s some kind of something. She didn’t exist a few years ago. There was a name change on record to create Miss Felicity Newhouse, but there isn’t a trail to follow. The records were sealed.”

  This was the part that Brandon was really confused about. “So you are saying that she sealed the records to prevent someone finding her.”

  “Either she’s being protected after some kind of criminal run in, in which case someone would have made up a back story for her and screwed up, or…” He paused for effect. “She requested her previous name records be sealed. Now why would she do that?”

  “Maybe she’s got a crazy ex, maybe she’s part of one of those families with twenty kids and decided she wanted her own letter of the alphabet. I don’t know.” And that was scary. Not knowing sent his brain into all the possible what ifs. There were a lot of them.

  His boss plowed over the national security plots his brain was starting to concoct. “Something is wrong. This whole stunt was supposed to be about a sweet little thing that needed the help of a big corporation. Our corporation had the heart to try and understand her idea and that means we win at having the most feelings. Which means everyone should bank with us.”

  “You should write a children’s book, sir. That was inspirational.”

  “I’m fucking serious here, Halston.” Pembrook tugged at his collar and checked something on his cell phone. “These reporters are all over this story. I’m digging in and I don’t have the connections they do. It’s only a matter of time before they latch on as well. The only difference between me and the vultures is I had her social security number from the application paperwork she filled out. Now, you don’t have any skeletons I have to worry about, do you?”

  Brandon was pretty sure the ticket he received for dangerous driving wouldn’t come into play as a big news story, but if the girl
friend who was giving him a blowjob and caused him to do the swerving in the first place came forward, it might be a bit embarrassing. He didn’t think his highway head was enough to worry about, so he didn’t bother mentioning it. “Other than some traffic tickets, I’m clean.”

  His boss breathed a sigh of relief. “Is there anything you know that she might have mentioned? Anything that could help me dig up what’s going on?”

  Brandon’s conscience beat against his heart. He knew Felicity wouldn’t want him to talk about their conversations, but this was the only way he saw to get some recon without directly going against his agreement to ask questions himself.

  “The only thing I have is that she doesn’t want to talk about a blue Versace dress hanging in her closet or awards shows.”

  “What kind of awards?” Notebook in hand, Pembrook wrote down Brandon’s words.

  “No idea. That’s all I know.” Brandon’s stomach knotted. “What are you going to do with what you find?”

  “Just cover our asses.”

  “You’re not going to go to the news outlets to try and discredit her?” Brandon knew his boss wasn’t a bad guy, but where business was concerned, he could be ruthless. It made him successful, but it also made him a scary son of a bitch.

  “Are you nuts? We’re invested in this woman now.” He gave up trying to get air under his collar and undid the first button. “We need her to be the goddamn American dream she’s sold herself to the media as. I’m already looking into the prospect of buying the land she’s on and giving the damn thing to her. The paperwork’s in a prepared file on my desk. If she can’t build her tiny houses, at least she’s the one who will have her name on it instead of us. I’ve also got my PR firm on call in case this goes in the shitter. Your job today is to say things you know to be true. Your opinion of this woman—good or bad—can’t contribute to anything that goes on tape. And I know for a fact that Channel 12 news is coming to the press junket after your interview with Deborah. They like to turn on their mics early. Watch what you say before the interview too.”

  Brandon walked away from his boss with a knot in his stomach. He knew Felicity wasn’t the soft spoken woman he’d initially thought her to be when she’d applied for the loan. He knew how she liked her coffee and he knew how she looked in the morning and the way she sighed softly before drifting off to sleep.

  He was in too deep. Which should have been impossible since he was only supposed to tolerate her and try not to be rude. He wasn’t supposed to enjoy himself with her. And he wasn’t supposed to make friends with Tom either.

  Felicity tapped him on his shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his skin. “There you are. Did your boss give you the inside scoop?”

  “What scoop? What do you mean? He didn’t tell me anything.”

  Her brows puckered at his tone and her lips turned down. “Brandon, I was just wondering if he had told you we were going to be interviewed in the studio with the morning news crew and the afternoon staff commenting.” She folded her arms. “What did you think I was talking about?”

  At least they would be inside and he’d sweat a bit less. Unless she kept digging at him. Then he’d be sweating just as much. Tugging on his suit jacket to hide any oncoming sweat stains, he didn’t try to argue or defend himself. Something told him that he’d be a wreck for this interview. He grabbed hold of the banker smile and started going over the facts in his head of what he knew about the artisan community.

  He could talk about the woodwork he was doing with Tom too. That would be a neutral topic that had nothing to do with Felicity. He’d just have to keep from standing next to her. She smelled good enough to be distracting.

  He went to hold the glass door open for her, and she pushed it from his hand to close it.

  “You didn’t answer me.”

  “What was the question?”

  Her shoulders slumped, and it shocked Brandon how much he hated lying to her.

  “What’s going on with you?”

  “I’m just nervous about the interview.” There. That wasn’t a lie.

  “What did your boss want to talk to you about?”

  “He wanted me to make sure that I gave more facts than opinions to make sure my statements couldn’t be construed or used against me later.” Also not a lie. He was rocking this. The interview would be no problem.

  “Why would your opinion of me be used against you?”

  Brandon turned and opened the door. He had to break eye contact with Felicity. There was too much between them now. He couldn’t keep up the poker face while digging into her past. “It’s just a businessman trying to prevent issues.”

  It didn’t look like she believed him, but she followed him into the air conditioned building to get dragged over the coals.

  At least they had doughnuts.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Felicity knew something had changed with Brandon. He wasn’t the same guy who had been building with Tom yesterday. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, what he talked with his boss about had scared him.

  He’d slid back into the asshole bodysuit of the man who’d been trying to get her to buy a toilet or rent a port-a-potty when he first stepped foot in her home. Her paparazzi senses were tingling, and she was terrified someone had started digging into her past.

  Felicity wasn’t the one who wanted to erase who she used to be. That had been her parents’ idea. She was more than willing to say she’d been a reformed rich girl. There was a real beauty to choosing the simple things and taking only the necessities with you in your day to day life.

  Her parents had never understood that. Her parents had humored her and told her if she wanted a doll house they would build one for her, if she’d bother to get married and give them some grandchildren.

  She wasn’t ready to settle down anymore than she was ready to deal with the money she was set to inherit.

  A quick phone call and a few signatures and all that inheritance would be at her fingertips. Money on that level scared her. Her parents were very successful, but she’d seen lots of her friends drop out of the high society simply because their parents bought when they should have sold or vice versa. Way too much pressure.

  “Felicity, don’t you think people are expecting more from you now?”

  But that wasn’t her mother speaking. Deborah leaned in, and the red light shone on her like a spotlight as Felicity remembered she was on live TV.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” And she wasn’t. She should really have been paying more attention when Brandon was talking. It might have given her a bit of context for the question.

  Deborah wasn’t facing the camera and the look she shot Felicity told her to get her shit together. “I mean, since you’ve been getting the outpouring of support and donations, like Mr. Halston and I were talking about, do you feel pressure to perform and get the project off the ground faster?”

  “I plan on building our first donation house with all the money. It wouldn’t be right to keep that money and use it to get the business end off the ground.”

  “More money is coming in daily. You may have a bigger fund than you think.”

  Felicity swallowed. She didn’t like the taste in her mouth from accepting other people’s money. Whether it came from strangers or family…either way, she hadn’t earned it. She hated that.

  “If I have more money, I’ll build more homes. If I don’t have enough to finish a project, I’ll donate the rest. There are many homeless shelters in the area that could use a boost from the community.”

  “And are you still planning on using artisan suppliers for your homes? Or are you going to use a less costly building method, now that there are other people watching how you spend the money?”

  And she hit the nail on the head. This was exactly why she wanted the money to be hers and not someone else’s.

  “I want to support small businesses. I want to help out the whole community with this project. If anyone doesn’t support that, I’ll gladly send ba
ck whatever amount the donation was. I never asked for anyone to send money.”

  Deborah eased up.

  “Why did you come to the news station? You had to know there would be some people wanting to support what you were doing.”

  This was the part Deborah had warned her about. She’d said there would be some tugging on the threads and to not take it personally. It was a lot easier said than done.

  “I came to this news station because I was about to get on the bus to ride home. I sat down on the bench and there was a little girl and her mother. They didn’t have a home. I thought I was too proud to ask for help, but I realized this wasn’t about me. I know I can’t help everyone, but there would be little girls like that…little boys who want to have their own floor to play on. I had an idea I knew would be able to give them a home. If coming on television and making a spectacle of myself does that…” She looked at Brandon. “And if opening myself up to scrutiny helps them…I’m willing to do that.”

  Deborah took back the reins after Felicity’s speech and there was a bit of discussion between the hosts and some stock footage the cameraman had taken of the house and some of the blueprints Tom had put together.

  Felicity was driving back home with Brandon after a few hours and no lunch.

  Brandon coughed after they made the second turn out of downtown.

  “So…that went well.”

  “I’m tired, and hungry, and you’re hiding something. I’m not in the mood.” She wasn’t patient when she was hungry.

  Felicity reached into the small cubby in the side of the door. There were a few wrappers but no granola bars. She’d have to restock her stash. Times like this called for some Peanut Butter Cookie Larabars.

  “I’m hiding something?”

  And he had the nerve to sound put out and indignant.

  “Yeah. You are.”

  “So are you.”

  “Your point?”

  He stopped talking until they got to the house. Tom was already parked outside and taking down the popup tent. The sun was shining, and he waved with a handful of brushes.