Holy shit.
She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said there wasn’t room here for two of us. I wasn’t sure there was room here for a squirrel, let alone a married couple.
I gave a slow spin, taking everything in and realizing I was about to get up close and extremely personal with Willa Jameson.
The whole place was one big circle consisting of maybe two hundred square feet.Maybe. Along the far wall sat the postage-stamp-sized kitchen with its whitewashed planks for walls, white cabinets, and warm wooden countertops curved to mirror the silo’s shape. A small butcher block island doubled as an eat-in table with stools, and the reclaimed wood stairs hugging the side of the wall doubled as storage—because of course they did. Willa didn’t waste space, and everything was always pulling double duty.
Hell, her pulling triple duty all by herself was her favorite way to piss me off.
There were a pair of cozy-looking armchairs and a French door that led out to the patio, and…that was it. Not even a couch.
This was her entire life, crammed into what amounted to a shed with plumbing.Jesus.
“Let me guess,” I said, cocking a brow in her direction. “There’s only one bed?”
“Rethinking your whole, ‘we’ll make it fit’ bullshit?” she said, sarcastically dropping her voice to mimic me.
“First of all, I don’t sound like that. And second, I’ve never once rethought uttering that phrase.”
Instead of dignifying that with a response, she just narrowed her eyes on me, turned on her heel, and stomped up the stairs. I followed, because I was a married man now, and I wasn’t going to ask questions of my obviously very pissed off wife.
I valued my junk too much for that.
I also wasn’t going to mention how her mad walk made her thick ass sway and jiggle in front of my face in a way that should’ve been outlawed. But Iwasabsolutely going to be saving that imagery for future reference.
At the top of the stairs was an open loft bedroom that held a bed, a pair of small nightstands, a tiny dresser, a chair, and a door that presumably led to the bathroom. Even the domed ceiling, which made the space feel larger than it was, didn’t help much.
She threw out an arm and gestured at the room. “See? This is it. Barely enough room for one person, let alone two, when the other one isyouwho takes up so much damn space.”
“Been taking up this much space since junior year, pooh bear. I didn’t hear you complaining then.”
“I must not have been loud enough,” she said flatly.
I grinned and set down my bags and guitar case. “This is gonna be great. I knew this would bring us closer.”
“Closer to divorce, maybe.”
“Relax. I promise not to try to seduce you while I’m here.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Please. If I ever fall to your charms, it’s because I’ve suffered a traumatic brain injury and don’t know who you are.”
I ran a hand along my jaw and smirked at her. “Damn, that was good. You been rehearsing that one?”
“Yeah. I practice insulting you every morning. Helps lower my blood pressure.”
She turned her back on me and started shoving my bags with the toe of her boot, like maybe she could make themandme disappear with enough force. Meanwhile, I was trying not to recall, in great detail, the sway of her hips as she’d climbed the stairs in front of me.
Fuck.
“You mind if I shower?” I asked.
“Please do. I can smell you all the way over here.”
She was a lying liar because Pearl and Bernice had both appreciatively leaned in for more than one sniff, but whatever Willa wanted to tell herself.
She obviously needed some space. I very much needed a cold shower. And this tension between us that was thick enough to slice with a butter knife needed to chill the fuck out.
I hadn’t seena bathroom this small since that one tour bus my dad’s band had been forced to use when their usual one had broken down.
