“I have to clean Farrow’s house.”
Her voice is nearly a whisper, but I’m getting used to it.
What does she mean shehasto clean Farrow’s house?
“As a…a job?” I ask.
She hesitates, as if thinking, before she nods.
Which makes me doubt he’s paying her. Is she returning a favor or something? Does he help her out in return?
Farrow’s been kind to me, but I haven’t known him long.
I step in closer. “He’s nice to you, right?”
Again, she nods, but I knew before I asked that she would never say he wasn’t. She’s afraid of him.
The question is, should she be, or is she just afraid of everyone?
“Call me if you ever need anything,” I tell her. “I’m always here.”
She presses her lips together before turning and leaving.
I don’t stay long. I finish up scheduling, and my lineup for next week’s new additions to the menu, as well as carving out time after the holiday to work on the ice cream stand. It would’ve been ideal to have it for the Fourth of July, but the hottest days are yet to come.
I climb on my bike and ride to my parents’ house. The multi-day backpack I got in high school during that phasewhere I thought I was going to hike the Appalachian Trail is still buried in my closet, I think. Perfect for transporting more of my stuff.
In six minutes, I’m home. Walking inside, I head upstairs and dive into my bedroom, so full of energy even though I’ve been working for twelve hours. Tonight, I’ll be in Weston. Inmyhouse. Sitting atmytable, eating something frommykitchen. I don’t even care if it’s cereal or croque monsieur. It’s mine.
Finding my pack, I stuff in essential shoes, clothes, extra chargers, and snatch framed photos of my family off my wall. I’ll hang them in my new house.
I hesitate for only a moment. It would be smart to wait for the loan to go through before moving all of this in. What if there’s a problem?
But I can’t wait. I’ve got the keys. It’s as good as mine.
Mentally, I make a list of things to do after the holiday, like getting the utilities in my name, setting up Wi-Fi, and doing a proper scrub down. The place isn’t filthy, but it’s far from comfortable.
Dashing into the hallway, I open the closet and steal some of my parents’ linens. Luckily, there’s a twin bed in one of the upstairs rooms of my new house, and Mom keeps twin sheets for anyone crashing on the couch when we’re overbooked for the holidays.
Snatching them, I carry the bundle back down the hall. A bathroom door opens, and I stop short, watching Lucas turn off the light. He steps out in black lounge pants, steam pouring around him as he dries his hair with a dark blue towel.
He sees me and slows, water dripping down his chest. The sheets weigh as much as a truck, but I can’t take my eyes off his chest. My gaze descends to a toned stomach and trim waist. He’s so long and lean…
I look away, blinking. “It’s midday,” I gripe. “You just getting up?”
“I’ve been up since the same time as you probably,” he retorts, taking the sheets out of my hands and following me to my room. “Work calls in Dubai, and then I helped Fallon at the workshop until I came back and swam some laps in the pool.”
I open my pack and grab a handful from him, stuffing the sheets inside.
My pulse races. I wanted to ask him why he just disappeared last night, but he’s in my room. Half-naked.
I just packed my bikini. Would he get back in the pool with me?
I lick my lips, grabbing the blanket out of his hands and packing that too.
“What are you doing?” he inquires, running the towel over his dripping hair.
“Taking another load over.”
