I can hear the faint sound of the living room TV as I get to the top of the stairs, and I have to catch myself before I start grinning like a fool.
It’s a kids’ show, by the sound of it, and it marks the first time a TV in this house has broadcast anything but sports since I moved in.
Just another small thing that’s been tweaked. Probably for the better, if I’m being honest. Just because I can survive on a twenty-four-hour diet of hockey games and replays doesn’t mean everyone in the house has to be subjected to it.
In fact, I’m glad that April feels at home enough to watch whatever she wants in the living room. That means I haven’t totally failed at my hosting duties.
I should probably go say goodnight and check if they need anything, but I stop myself after just one step in that direction. Heather and April don’t need me breathing down their necks, especially not on their very first night here.
They seem to be finding their rhythm, and I don’t want to get in the way of that. Instead, I go back to my own routine. First, a cold bottle of water. Then a few minutes in the sauna.
The first thing I see when I open the fridge is a container of leftover spaghetti on the bottom shelf, shoved together with a few other items Heather must have brought over from her old place.
It’s obvious that she’s tried her best to keep their food completely separate from mine, and while I appreciate the thought behind it, I still make a mental note to let her know it’s okay to spread out and take up space. I want them both to feel comfortable enough to use the house as their own, and that includes the refrigerator.
Actually, screw that.
I’ll still mention it, but there’s no time like the present to practice what I preach. Besides, it’ll be good for me to change things up a little too. The inside of my fridge has looked like an ad for the health food store for too long, with everything in its color-coded place and all those perfectly aligned rows.
Within five minutes, it looks almost normal while still staying neat and tidy enough to keep my eyes from twitching every time I open the door. I chug my water, toss the bottle into the recycling bin, and head for the sauna.
It’s only a few steps from the kitchen—a small space between the laundry room and the back door, cedar-lined and with a nice view of the backyard—and I would normally already be stripped down by the time I made it to the sauna door.
But now, with guests in the house, I decide it’s probably best for all of us if I keep my shorts on and save us all a potentially embarrassing situation. I peel my shirt off and toss it into the laundry basket on top of the washing machine as I pass by, then open the sauna door and freeze in place.
“What the—oh shit, sorry.” The words slip out before I can close my mouth.
Heather is sitting on the wooden bench across from me, looking just as surprised as I feel.
“Oh, no, I’m the one who should be apologizing.” She’s wearing a bikini, and I catch a glimpse of long legs, toned arms, and curves that I haven’t fully appreciated until right this second as she scrambles for her towel. “I was just—I noticed the saunaearlier when you were showing us around and I, well, it was just so tempting.” She closes her eyes for a moment, and I can tell she’s trying to pull herself together even though she’s obviously embarrassed. “I should have asked. I’m sorry.”
I’m pretty sure she would’ve already run out the door if I wasn’t still blocking her way.
“You don’t have to ask to use the sauna or the fridge or anything else in this house,” I say, stepping aside but gesturing back toward the bench where she was just sitting. “You were in here first, so you can stay. It’s not a big deal for me to come back later.”
“Except you probably have a routine for this, too, don’t you?” She gives me a knowing look. “Yeah, you do. And I’m interrupting it.”
She’s not wrong about my routine, but the last thing I want is for her to think that my schedule is more important than making her feel welcome in what is supposed to be her temporary home.
“How about if we both stay?” I offer, because this is starting to turn into something bigger than it needs to be. “I don’t want it to be weird, so I’ll leave it up to you. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
She only takes a few seconds to think about it before I can see some of the tension ease in her shoulders. “Of course. We’ll both stay. I don’t think it’ll be weird at all.”
Heather settles back on the bench and I step fully inside the sauna, belatedly realizing just how small the room feels now that we’re both in here. But I’m not going to think about that right now. Not when we’re both trying to make the situation feel less awkward.
I take a seat on the opposite bench and immediately struggle to focus on something—anything—aside from her long legs and pretty smile.
Instead, I look over at the wooden slats on the wall and try to think of something else to say.
And try.
And try.
“Sorry,” I say after what feels like a solid five minutes of silence. “I’m not all that used to having company in here. Not that I mind the company, I mean. I just don’t have guests over that often, as I’m sure you’ve picked up on by now.”
Her laugh is gentle and easy enough to make me relax a little. “I’m no better, to be honest. I can’t even tell you the last time I sat around like this and just relaxed for a while. It almost feels wrong.”
“Wrong?”
