by Katie Allen
Propping her elbows on the island, she rested her chin on her hands and watched him cook. It was a good look for him—yet another good look. He had quite a few. She’d discovered earlier in the day that she especially liked watching him flex as he hauled heavy boxes around.
“What are you making?” she asked.
“Chili and corn bread.” The way he said it was so casual, as if feeding her after helping her move into his home was just a given, and not the latest in a long line of incredible things he’d done for her. “It’s not just any old plain corn bread, either. It’s jalapeño corn bread.”
“I’d never accuse you of making plain old corn bread.” The sight of him stirring was almost hypnotic, and she had to struggle not to doze off on her stool. “Can I help with anything?”
“No, but you can eat.” He grabbed two bowls from the cupboard and filled one. Placing it in front of her, he turned to the fridge. “Want a beer to go with that?”
It was tempting, but she knew she’d be facedown snoring in her bowl of chili if she did. Besides, she’d sworn to avoid all alcohol while she was staying with Louis. It would only lead to nakedness and regret. “I think I’ll stick with milk. If even the corn bread is spicy, I’ll need it.”
“Probably wise.” He poured her a glass before grabbing a bottle of beer for himself.
“You don’t need to serve me,” she said, waiting for him to dish up his own serving of chili and set the pan of corn bread on the island between them before digging in. It wasn’t until the first bite hit her stomach that she realized how hungry she was. Except for some coffee and an orange that morning, she hadn’t eaten anything all day. “In fact, I should be serving you. You’re the one doing me a favor by letting me stay here until I can find a new place.”
“After I wake you up at two in the morning a few times, you’ll be demanding that I cook you meals.”
She paused, the spoon halfway to her mouth, so she could give him her best glare. “How about we switch off cooking and you don’t wake me up unless your place is on fire.”
“Sounds boring to me.” He took a huge bite of the corn bread, still managing to smirk at her as he chewed and swallowed. “What kind of roommate would I be if I let you miss all the fun?”
“The best kind.” Although she was fairly sure she hadn’t convinced him to let sleeping roommates lie, she let it go, too exhausted at the moment to do anything but eat Louis’s super-tasty—and very spicy—food. For three days, she’d been packing every free moment. The move, plus planning Velvet’s upcoming show, had worn her down to a nubbin. All she wanted to do was eat, shower, and sleep. That thought brought up another issue they’d never settled. “I’m claiming the couch tonight.”
“Nope. Too late. I already claimed it.”
“I don’t recognize your claim. Your claim is worthless to me.” She put her spoon down with a solid clank. “Your letting me stay here is enough. I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”
“I already told you that I spend most of the night on the couch, anyway.” His casual tone aggravated her, since she was trying to be firm. The man was too nice for his own good—at least he was when it came to her. “If you sleep on the couch, you’ll have to share it with me.”
That didn’t sound like a hardship. Annabelle paused for a moment as she dragged her brain away from that tempting mental image of cuddling up with Louis at night. “Why are you so stubborn?”
“I’m not the stubborn one.” He gave her a slow, innocent blink. “You’re the stubborn one. There’s a perfectly good bed available, but you’re going to hog the couch. I’ll be squished in a corner as you kick me in your sleep until I finally can’t take it anymore and have to lie on the floor. Do you know how uncomfortable hardwood floors are to sleep on?”
“Then sleep on the bed!” She threw her hands up in frustration.
“You sleep on the bed.” He glanced at her empty bowl. “Would you like more chili?”
“No, I’m stuffed, but I’m still going to eat another square of this corn bread.”
A strangely amiable silence settled over them as they both finished eating.
“I call kitchen cleanup.” Sliding off her stool, Annabelle gave the corn bread another longing look, but she knew she couldn’t fit one more bite into her already stuffed belly.
He gave her a look, and she braced herself for a challenge, but he gave a small shrug instead and leaned back in his seat. “Fine. I hate dish duty.”
She glanced over at the dishwasher, just to make sure it existed, but let his comment go. It would take her five minutes to clean up, but at least he was allowing her to do something to help. Her phone buzzed on the counter, and she craned her neck from her place at the sink but couldn’t read it. “Could you check that? My hands are wet. My pass code is...” Since he was already tapping numbers on her screen, she trailed off with a wry smile. It wasn’t surprising that nosy Louis knew how to get into her phone.
“It’s Velvet,” he said.
Annabelle had expected that. “What’d she say? We’ve been ironing out the last details for the show on Friday.”
“Uh...angry face, angry face, angry face,” Louis read out loud, making her blink until she realized he was translating emojis. “Dad’s being extra fussy about framing, but the paintings will be ready, even if she has to tie him up and stuff him in a closet.” He started responding, his thumbs flying over the screen, as Annabelle watched a little apprehensively, wondering what exactly he was saying to Velvet.
Drying her hands on a dish towel, she finally had to ask. “What’d you tell her?”
“That she’s free to do whatever she needs to do to Max. The jury will understand, and we’ll be character witnesses if necessary.” The phone buzzed again before Annabelle could react. “She says thank you for the offer, but she thinks they’ll both survive this show, even if she is feeling mildly stabby.”
Annabelle chuckled. “I love Velvet.”
“Me, too,” he said as the alert sounded on her phone again. “Max promised her that he’d finish framing in time, and everything will be delivered Friday afternoon.”
“Good.” Even though she was reluctant to say anything good about Max, she had to admit that he was a supportive art dad. “Even though he’s driving her crazy, it’s nice of him to help out. Her paintings are always beautifully framed.”
Louis tapped out a final short text and then handed her phone to her. “Yeah, they are.” He eyed the way she was leaning against the counter. “Done with cleanup? Want to play Monster Hunter?”
The thought of cuddling up on the couch with Louis to play video games was tempting, but that was exactly why she needed to decline. Besides, her entire body was sore and tired, and she needed to get to bed soon before she just dropped. “Sorry, but I’m pretty much done with this day. Moving is tiring. I’m just going to take a shower and crash.” Although she braced herself for his disappointed puppy expression, he looked surprisingly okay about losing his gaming buddy for the night.
“If you’re not going to play with me, then I’m going to go paint.” He stretched, and his T-shirt strained under the flexing of all his muscles.
Dragging her gaze off the tempting sight, Annabelle studied the pattern in his granite countertop, forcing her brain to think about things other than what Louis would look like naked. Now that she’d gotten a glimpse of him without a shirt, her imagination had more to work with, which made it even harder not to let her thoughts wander where they shouldn’t.
“Goodnight, then,” she said once she’d wrestled her lustful imaginings back under control. “Thank you again for helping me move and for letting me stay here. And making dinner.” She started adding more, but his laugh interrupted her litany of thanks.
“Stop thanking me, or I’ll never do anything nice for you ever again,” he said, heading for the door.
“Liar,” she called
after him. “You know you can’t stop doing nice things.”
Without turning around, he flapped his hand at her over his shoulder. Once the door thumped shut behind him, Annabelle took a deep breath and looked around her new temporary home. When Louis was around, he seemed to absorb all her attention, so it was hard to take in everything when he was around.
The space was nice, though. It had a clean, open, modern feel but still managed to come off as homey. While she’d been cleaning up after dinner, she’d marveled at how comfortable she was there already. Instead of feeling like an interloping guest who planned to stay beyond her welcome date, she felt like she really was Louis’s roommate and that she had every right to share his space.
She moved into the bedroom, looking around with interest. Besides a quick glance when she’d dropped off her suitcases just inside the door, she hadn’t seen this room before. Her eyes kept returning to the sprawling bed. Even set in the expansive room, the bed still seemed huge to her, immediately triggering all sorts of ideas of what could be done on it.
Quickly nipping those mental images in the bud, she unzipped the smaller suitcase. Despite the exhaustion dragging her down, she knew she wouldn’t be able to go to sleep until she’d unpacked. For a moment, she hesitated with her hands over the stacks of neatly packed clothes. Since she didn’t know exactly how long she was staying with Louis, maybe it would be better not to settle in too much. After all, she couldn’t inconvenience him for too long. He might think that having her around was going to be fun, but Annabelle knew the reality of roommates. Even when you loved the other person dearly, sharing a space could be tough.
Louis had told her he’d cleared space for her things, but she still felt like an interloper as she checked the drawers. Half were empty, while the other half were full of his clothes. Touched that he’d made room for her, she quickly unpacked. He’d shifted all of his things over to one side of the expansive closet, too, leaving her more than enough space to hang up her items.
When she’d finished, she stepped back and eyed the closet. Seeing that combination of her dresses hanging right next to his clothes felt intensely intimate. At that moment, it felt like they were moving in together—really moving in together—rather than the reality that he was being kind to an employee who was in a bind.
She abruptly turned back to her empty suitcases. It’d be a mistake for her to get caught up in some fantasy of playing house with Louis. They were roommates, not lovers. They wouldn’t be sharing that huge bed or having romantic dinners in the kitchen or showering together in his luxurious bathroom or making out on that comfortable couch. She needed to remember that.
If she didn’t, if she let herself get swept up in the pretend possibilities, then the return to reality was going to gut her.
* * *
The sun was barely starting to creep through the windows the next morning before Louis bounced on the bed, jolting her awake.
“What?” She sat up abruptly, briefly confused by the new surroundings and the earthquake happening underneath her. When she saw Louis’s grinning face and took in the details of his bedroom—her bedroom now, at least temporarily—she groaned and flopped back, her head landing on the soft pile of pillows. “Why am I not surprised that you’re waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn by bouncing on my bed?”
“Because you know I’m a morning person?”
“No, you’re not.” A yawn made the last word a little mushy. “You’re a night person. At shows, I’m always ready for bed by ten, but you can keep going for hours longer.”
He shrugged. “I’m both. Now get up! We’re going to the gym.” Pushing off her bed, he stood and headed for the door.
Letting her eyes drift closed, she settled back into the warm nest she’d created. The bed was so comfortable, and her muscles ached from moving the day before, and she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep for days, since she’d been packing late into the evenings and then lying awake, stressing about the move. Last night, though, she’d slept like a rock, and she didn’t want to give it up quite yet.
For a moment she hoped he’d bounce right out of her room and wouldn’t notice that she wasn’t behind him, but he paused in the doorway.
“Annabelle Shay. Up and at ’em! Just think of how good you’ll feel after working out.”
With another groan, she rolled onto her belly and buried her face in the pillows.
“Don’t make me come back there.”
She knew he would, too. He’d jostle her until she either got up or tackled him. Accepting the inevitable with a huff, she reluctantly pushed herself up again, shifting until she was sitting on the edge of the bed, blinking at him. “How are you so cheerful all the time?” Her yawn was so wide it made her jaw pop. “Especially on so little sleep?”
“I’m just amazing that way,” he said breezily as he left the room. “Hurry up! I’ll be in the kitchen, hydrating.”
Grumbling under her breath, she shuffled her way to the bathroom. If Louis was going to be dragging her to the gym or on a run every morning at such an ungodly hour, her crush on him might die a natural death.
Then the image of his happy face as he woke her up that morning popped into her head, and she groaned again, this time for a different reason. If she still thought he was adorable, even when he was bouncing on her bed at five in the morning, then she was definitely infatuated beyond all hope.
Fifteen minutes later, she was feeling more awake and cheerful as she joined Louis in the kitchen. He had a gym bag slung across his body.
“Just let me grab some water, and I’ll be ready to go,” she said.
“Already on it.” He handed her a filled water bottle, and headed for the door.
“Thank you.” She stared at the container for a second, unused to having someone else do things for her. Although she prided herself on her independence, it was an unexpectedly nice feeling to have Louis do such a simple, considerate thing as fill a water bottle for her. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she tucked the water into her bag and followed him. As he held the door for her, she noticed he didn’t have on his carbon prosthesis.
“You’re not going to run today, are you?” She slipped by him, being careful not to brush up against him. She wanted to touch him, but it did bad things for her concentration.
When he chuckled instead of answering, she gave him her best stern look. “You won’t be laughing when your leg’s a mess of blisters.”
“I won’t run.” Still smiling, he shifted closer and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I like that you’re worried about me, though.”
His unexpected kiss and words made her blurt out, “Thank you for filling a water bottle for me.”
“Of course.” His smile softened, changing to something she was afraid to name, in case she was wrong. “It’s nice having you around.”
Her face had to be bright red. She could feel the heat of it in her cheeks as her heart beat faster, even as she told herself to calm down and not overreact. “I’m always around. I work here.”
“This is different.” He moved down the hallway ahead of her to push open the door that led outside. “It’s better.”
She’d blurt out something embarrassingly emotional if she opened her mouth now, so she just gave him a part shrug and part nod and part small smile, a response she hoped he’d interpret as casual agreement rather than her wanting to shout how much she loved living there and sharing his closet and sleeping in his incredibly comfortable bed.
She had no idea if she succeeded. As they walked the three blocks to the gym, he was his usual happy, chatty self. It made her wonder how good he really was at concealing his true emotions. Learning that he hadn’t had sex—or even a date—since he’d lost his leg, that he’d been celibate for years because he was self-conscious about his injuries, had jolted her. He’d always given off an aura of complete confidence, as evidenced by the hideous pa
nts he’d worn at Desi’s last show. His admittance that night provided a revealing crack in his armor, and it fascinated her. She wanted to know more about the real Louis, and not just the façade he showed to the world.
“Are you planning on lifting weights?” she asked as they checked in at the gym.
“Since you won’t let me run, I suppose I have to.” He gave her one of those glances from the corner of his eye that were cuter than they should’ve been.
“Do people stare when you have your running leg on? It looks so...futuristic.”
His shoulders lifted and fell, even as he smirked at her word choice. “Not really. I think they’re trying so hard not to stare that they go really far in the other direction and pretend not to see me at all.”
“Huh.” Pausing outside the locker room entrance, she frowned. “It seems like it’d be worse to be invisible than to be fascinating.” Especially for drama-loving Louis, she thought, although she kept that part to herself.
His smile had an odd warmth to it, his eyes narrowing and intense in a way that made Annabelle shift her weight before she reminded herself that this was Louis. When he was quiet for a beat too long, she had to break the silence.
“What’s wrong? Was that rude of me to say that?”
“No.” That glittering, almost predatory look didn’t fade, and something inside her hummed in response. “It’s exactly the reason I love having you around.”
With that completely confusing statement, he disappeared into the men’s locker room.
* * *
Annabelle decided to spend some time on the treadmill before moving to the weight room. As she ran, she enjoyed getting lost in the motion and repetitive sounds. Although she wore earbuds, they were just for show in order to discourage people from trying to chat with her as she worked out. She didn’t like to have music playing, since it made her uncomfortable not to be able to hear what was going on around her. There was something relaxing about the whir of the machines and the even rhythm of her shoes hitting the treadmill belt.
