He touches my arm as he sits and comfort spreads through me. “You were tired, so I didn’t wake you, but it’s almost ten.”
“Wow. That’s probably the only miracle. I slept.” I’m lacking energy in my voice.
“It could have been worse,” he reminds me.
Thinking about it for a few moments, I guess he is right. “At least, my camera equipment and laptop were in my car, since I was away for a shoot earlier in the day. It’s just my…”
“House,” he finishes my sentence.
Silence grows in the room, eerily relaxing.
This man. How does he have abilities that I’ve never seen before? He’s supportive, and it’s a bonus that he’s easy on the eyes. Something positive for the day.
Maybe it’s hysteria due to last night, but I snort out a laugh and begin to chuckle to myself. Keats watches me peculiarly.
“What’s funny?”
Flopping back onto my pillow, I slide along the mattress to rest on my side and observe him. “I’ve never seen your room. It’s always been doors and floors as our settings of choice.”
Now he smirks, too. “You forgot about the table.”
Exploring the room with my eyes, there are a lot of grays happening, but the large windows make up for it. I bring my hand to run along the mattress. “Nice bed.”
“Thanks for your approval.” He lifts his feet up and joins me on his side.
“If I recall, I was angry at you yesterday.”
Keats wraps a few strands of hair around his finger to touch me affectionately. “Long forgotten. Besides, you were pissed at me for not letting you run into a burning house, too. If I were to keep a scoreboard then you are really racking up points. Lucky for you, that too is long history.”
I swoop his finger away only to bring it to my lips for a little peck. “Truthfully, it’s all a little blurry what happened, but thank you for saving me, and I do remember being with you.”
Keats licks his lips, his smile sudden. “Did you just say thank you to me?” he teases.
“Yes,” I reply bluntly.
“Noted. Now, as much as I wish you could sleep, you need to get out of my bed.”
My brows furrow. “Kicking me out of bed already?”
He shakes his head and leaves the mattress. “No. But we have to deal with insurance and assess the damage. Not to mention, we need the details from Mrs. Tiller’s insurance.”
Kicking the duvet further toward the foot of the bed, I swing my feet to the ground and rub my head when I stand. “What exactly happened again?”
Keats is rummaging in his drawer when he answers. “According to Sheriff Carter?—”
“Again, why can’t everyone just say Carter? He’s our neighbor.”
“And a sheriff who had words with the fire department, so…”
I look at him plainly.
“Something in the toaster in Mrs. Tiller’s house went wrong. Hopefully it’s mostly smoke damage to your home. She’s at the hospital for a checkup. With her old age, evenunscathed, a double-check was needed. Her daughter is driving down from Michigan to help sort everything out.”
I begin to pace and try to digest all the details. “What a nightmare.”
He tosses clothes onto the bed. “Like I said, it could have been worse. Here. Your clothes from yesterday are in the washing machine, so you will need something else to wear. Hailey called, and she will bring you some clothes later.”
Wearing his shirt isn’t bad at all, but having normal clothes for public outings is ideal. Nonetheless, I snatch up one of his button-downs, and if I were brave enough, I could wear it as a dress, but it’s just a shade too risqué for the neighborhood.
