“We’re going to be living in the same house,” she responds. “How is that going to work out?”
“That’s not what I mean.” It’s starting to get too hot for me next to the fire in my hoodie, so I pull it over my head and put it down next to me on the granite. Paisley’s eyes stop for a second on my arms before she pretends to stare at my shirt. Once again, I’ve got to keep myself from grinning. “Of course, we’ll see each other. It’s unavoidable. But you’ll do your stuff, and I’ll do mine. Okay?”
“I didn’t have anything else in mind,” she says. For a moment she grits her teeth before a sudden snort escapes. “Why do you think I even want this job? Certainly not to stick to your butt and adore you. Maybe that’s what you’re used to, but that’s not going to work with me. I’ve got priorities. And to be honest, I don’t give a shit about you, Knox. Seven hundred fifty dollars a week is what interests me. Not you.”
Her angry look eats away at me. If it weren’t for the fireplace, I’d swear the crackling was coming from her eyes.
“Then we’re all set.” I nimbly hop off the island and down the rest of my soda. Actually, Paisley was right. I’m not used to women not being interested in me. And it’s a damn strange feeling that triggers something in me. “Come on, let me show you around.”
Only now does she let go of the strap to her bag and take off her white down jacket, which is so puffy I’ve got to think of Baymax, the Disney character. Her hair is sticking to her neck.
“We’ve got a sauna. For your next sweat cure, you don’t need to sit next to the fire in your jacket.”
She casts me a poisonous glance. “Just show me the house.”
With a grin that comes from who knows where I point to the ceiling. “There are three floors. Down here, we’ve got the living room, kitchen, two bathrooms, and the sauna. Outside is the pool.” Paisley follows me as I point through the panoramic window onto our vast terrace with the heated pool and then walk on down the hall next to the stairs. I point to a somewhat smaller door. “Utility room. Here you’ll find the washing machine, dryer, and everything you need to clean. Disinfectants and all that, too.”
Paisley opens the door and takes a short look around before closing it again. “It’s incredible that you even know this room exists.”
I lean against the doorframe. “There are definitely more…incrediblethings about me, you know?”
For a moment she looks as if she’s considering her response, but then she simply turns and points to the stairs. “What’s on the second floor?”
“The bedrooms.” I push myself off the doorframe and wave her to come along. Once we’re upstairs, I point to the first door. “That’s mine. The three next to it are guestrooms. Then there’s my father’s bedroom.”
Her eyes linger on the last varnished wood door before falling onto a photo standing on our roughhewn sideboard. It’s a picture ofmy mom, hugging me from behind. I was still small. Seven at the most.
“Is that…?”
“From up here on the mezzanine you can see everything,” I say quickly before she can say what I don’t want to hear. I turn abruptly and point downstairs. “Over there, the tourist area is laid out exactly the same. Which is practical when keeping an eye on everything while folks are eating.”
Paisley runs a hand along the wooden balustrade, her eyes trained on the chandelier and nods. “Good.” She turns and nods at the three empty rooms. “I get one of the guestrooms?”
I shake my head and point to the stairs at the other end of the gallery. “You get the attic room. It’s got a large bathroom and a little kitchen niche. That way you’ll have more privacy.”
She casts me a curious glance. “Why didn’t you take over that area yourself?”
Once again my chest tightens. Earlier the attic room was indeed mine. My bed stood directly by the window that is inserted into the sloping wall, with the stunning view of the Rockies. Mom and I used to watch the sun go down when she brought me to bed, I don’t know how many times. After her death, I couldn’t stand the view anymore.
“Too big,” I lie. “I’m hardly ever at home and don’t need it.”
I turn away from the stairs and look at Paisley. She seems to be lost in thought while leaning over the balustrade and letting her glance wander through the foyer. When she turns her head to look through the panorama window into the outdoor area, which is lit up by recessed lights, the butter-yellow glow of the chandelier falls onto the left side of her face. Only now do I see the swelling again, which is clearly visible to the side and below her eye. Without thinking, I reach out and carefully caress the redness with my fingertips.
Paisley immediately gasps and bats my hand away. She flinches away from me so violently, that I’m almost afraid she’ll tumble over the railing.
“What happened?” I ask quietly, without really thinking she’ll answer.
And I’m right. Paisley moves away and rushes silently past me to the stairs.
I follow her. “Paisley, wait. Sorry… We don’t have to… Hey, where are you going?”
Dumb question. Of course, I understand that she wants to take off as she slips back into her Baymax costume and zips it up to her chin. And I shouldn’t care, right? But it bothers me. No idea why. Paisley’s presence is somehow…pleasant.
And that’s not what I want at all. I’ve got principles: No figure skaters. The thing with Harper was a one-off mistake due to too much booze and too little self-control.
But I’m not drunk now. I am as clear as the mountain air and slopes and nevertheless feel that slight stab when I see Paisley snapping shut her bag, her nostrils flared.
“I’ll be here tomorrow after training,” she says between her teeth, in order to keep a neutral tone. “I won’t make it sooner.”
