“He’s single.”
The words popped out of Rose’s mouth before she could stop them.
Blake cast her a sidelong glance. It burned Rose to see that the woman also seemed to be clamping down on a smile.
“Oh, is he, now?” Blake lowered her voice even more. It sounded suspiciously mischievous. “Did our little Little gain that knowledge naturally or did she go fishing for it?”
If Blake hadn’t been pregnant—and honestly, so much taller than Rose—she would have shoulder-checked her. As it was, she gave Blake a hefty eye roll.
“It came up in a conversation about our lives while we were hiding out. You know, from people trying to kill me.”
Blake met her with an answering eye roll.
“Don’t you try and guilt me just because I’m asking a reasonable personal question,” she said. “Darius isn’t the only one acting out of pocket.”
As if on cue, James exited the bathroom in deep conversation with the detective.
Blake didn’t point to him or nod his way, but Rose knew they were both all eyes on the man.
“You don’t seem to mind him sticking to you.”
Rose didn’t know what to say to that—mostly because it was true—and was instead saved by the man himself. He walked over to them and put his hands on his hips, his brow knitted together in what felt like a subordinate giving a slightly off-putting report to a superior.
With them, though, it turned into James dropping his chin so he could stare down into the much smaller Rose.
“Despite no one using it for a bit, this place is pretty good, other than needing a bit of quick dusting,” he started. “It was good on Brandy Lane to keep the power and water running too, or else this wouldn’t be ideal. I’m going to start cleaning and get these sheets and blankets switched out while y’all finish up your conversation.” He looked to Blake. “Unless there’s something else you need from me?”
Darius and Blake answered in unison that there wasn’t.
The two men went to get the supplies James had thought to bring from his house out of the car while Blake tapped the suitcase she had rolled into the room earlier.
“With the help of our FBI agent friend, we got you some more things from your apartment. Clothes, toiletries and some snacks he found in the pantry he thought you might like.”
Rose’s eyes widened. Blake read her thoughts.
“Don’t worry. I’ve known the agent for a long time. He was respectful with it and even had his wife on the phone while he packed to make sure he got what you might need.” Blake rubbed a hand over her stomach. “I would have done it myself, but it was decided that was a risk not worth taking.”
Just in case there was another attacker lying in wait for Rose.
She didn’t spell that out, though, and Blake didn’t either. Instead, they said their goodbyes after James finished bringing in the rest of their things.
Then, after one last warning to be safe, it was just Rose and James alone again. It was an odd feeling to watch him. She had settled into one of the two worn wooden chairs by the air-conditioning unit and, like fireflies during a summer night, her attention seemed to flicker and float around him alone.
He hummed. She couldn’t make out the tune, but it was upbeat. Slow in some parts, fast in others. He bobbed his head to match the beat sometimes, but nomatter what, he focused on the chore he was currently attending to without missing a step.
He dusted every surface in the room with careful dedication. The nightstands, the table next to her, the chest of drawers opposite the bed, and even the curtains. From there he wiped them down with cleaner spray and wipes before going into the bathroom to presumably do the same. He came back and set to the flannel bundle he’d brought in earlier. True to word, it was a new set of sheets, pillowcases and quilt top.
Rose watched in absolute awe while he redid the bed as if it was the most normal situation there was.
When he was done, he took both of their bags and situated them on top of the chest of drawers.
Then he placed his hands on his hips, did a slow turnaround to survey their space, and then, seemingly pleased with himself, nodded.
“This place isn’t that bad now,” he said. “Honestly, the paint job here is probably better than my place.”
Rose wanted to smile, she really did, but it was like sitting down had drained whatever she had left fueling her everything-is-fine guise. It was disappointing to realize that she couldn’t fake it anymore, especially after getting her gusto back once she had finished crying earlier.
James filled the silence after a moment.
