“Yep.” My response lacks all confidence.
His expression softens—perhaps readying me for his criticism. He nods slowly and, to my surprise, reaches over and links our fingers. It’s nice he’s going to hold my hand while critiquing my songs.
“Seeing you perform…” His words fade. “Harriet, you’re incredible. I’ve never—” He clears his throat, fighting with himself not to break our stare. “I’ve never heard anything so beautiful in my life.”
My heart hammers in my chest.
Heedless of my apparent bout of voice paralysis, Warren continues. “Would it be okay if I came to the distillery again? To watch you?”
Good. Fucking. God. Stop.
Am I supposed to be irritated or swooning at his feet? Pick a lane, heart.
“That’d be okay with me.”
He nods and inhales slowly. “I also owe you an explanation.”
“Okay…”
“I’m suspended. Have been since we first met. I’m not proud of it or for keeping it a secret. Seems like I’m constantly apologizing to you, but that’s the truth.” His face scrunches in discomfort. This feels like a trade, and I don’t dare open my mouth in fear of him stopping. “I fucked up, didn’t follow orders, and, rightfully so, am suffering the consequences. I’m working on returning to field duties, so you don’t have to worry about me not being able to provide financially.”
I baulk at him. “Are you kidding?”
“No.” His discomfort grows.
I flap my hands. “Not about the suspension. The providing for us part. You already are. The important question is, are you okay?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. That has to be tough.” The cold from outside blasts up the stairs, yet neither of us moves from the doorway. “Is that why you hate talking about your job?”
“I prefer not to. There’s a difference. I like to keep my personal and work life separate.”
“Okay, I can respect that.” This is the most I’ve ever got outof the man, so I’m counting it as a small victory. “I’m not prying for the sake of it. In some way, we’re still strangers.”
His frown is instantaneous, and I’m not sure which part pissed him off.
“Why don’t you come in?” I shimmy out of my coat, shivering from the cold air. The stairwell is always cold, but the Arctic chill blowing through the apartment isn’t normal.
“Holy shit, it’s freezing in here.” I flip the light switch. Nothing.
On, off. On, off. On, off.
“What the heck?” My breath billows in front of me.
Turning, I find Warren bent with his head in my fuse box, a look of annoyance on his face. “This isn’t up to code. It’s ancient.”
“Has a fuse gone out?” I peek around his broad shoulder.
“They’reallout, and I don’t want to risk turning them all on until I find the issue.” Straightening to his full height, he whips off his coat and drapes it over my shoulders, enveloping me in his smoky aroma. The sleeves swallow my arms, leaving only the tips of my fingers visible. “Where’s your furnace?”
“In the utility closet.” I grimace when he moves farther into the apartment. “Don’t judge the mess.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Lead the way,” he calmly commands.
I open the door to the utility closet and stand back. Hands on his hips, he inspects the furnace. With each minute that passes, his sour mood increases. “Did you get this serviced?”
“Umm…”
