“Err. Yeah, okay.” Reluctantly, I pull the door open, then take a step back, watching as the two strangers step inside.
Even if they hadn’t told me they were a couple, it’s obvious from the way they move together. The huge guy is so close to his wife, they’re basically pressed against each other, his hand hovering at her side, waiting to catch her in case she falls.
The woman, Octy, is dressed like a real-life doll. Her dark hair is up in pigtails with bows, her dress is black with a white lace collar, a full skirt that ends mid-thigh, and puff sleeves trimmed with the same lace as at her neck. Her legs are half covered by white knee-high socks, and the outfit is completed with chunky black buckled boots with a thick platform sole.
She looks bizarre but awesome, and I have to fight the urge to poke her to check that she’s really real.
“It’s called gothic Lolita,” Octy says, dragging my attention off her outfit and back to her face.
“Sorry?” I question.
“My style, it’s called gothic Lolita. Basically I like to dress like a goth baby doll,” she says cheerily, her upbeat attitude at odds with her black demeanor.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” I gasp, my cheeks heating with embarrassment.
“Don’t apologize. If I cared about people staring, I wouldn’t dress like this.” She laughs.
The guy is still standing like a silent sentry behind her, not speaking, his eyes scanning the room like he’s searching for a risk. When his assessing gaze lands on me, I curl into myself, cautiously closing the door behind me, but not stepping forward.
“I’m sorry, we’re freaking you out. But I’m not working today, and once Knight told me Warrick had met someone, I insisted on coming over to meet you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, trying and failing to smile at the woman, who is so clearly trying to put me at ease. “Can I get you a drink or anything?” I offer, feeling strange offering them drinks I didn’t pay for, in a home that isn’t mine.
“I’d love a coffee,” Octy says.
“No,” the big guy growls, making me take a step back, so my butt hits the front door. “You’re pregnant, and caffeine is bad for the baby.”
Huffing audibly, Octy nods. “I’m only a few weeks pregnant, and I miss coffee so much. I have no idea how I’m going to cope for nine months without it.”
“I’m not much of a coffee drinker,” I say, wrinkling my nose.
“I need it almost as much as air,” she breathes whinily.
“I’ll see what Warrick has,” the man says, steering Octy to sit on the couch before he makes a beeline for the kitchen, like it’s perfectly normal for him to help himself in someone else’s house. But maybe it is. How would I know? These people are strangers to me, but they could have known Warrick for years.
“Come. Sit. Knight is losing his shit about me being pregnant. I think he thinks I’m going to collapse if I stand for more than five minutes at a time,” she says with affection but clear amusement.
Glancing over my shoulder at the closed door at my back, I genuinely consider making a run for it, then I force myself to stop being ridiculous, shuffle forward, and take a seat on the opposite end of the couch.
“Literally all Warrick has told Knight is that your name is Verity and that you’ve moved in. I know these guys can come on super strong, so I guess I just wanted to check that you’re okay,” Octy says earnestly.
“Oh, err, I’m fine. Warrick is really nice.”
“He is nice. He’s super nice. But the guys in this town, they can be full-on, and that can be a lot. Knight moved me into a house he built for us and we were married within a couple of days. I love him, so I was okay with moving at a million miles an hour, but sometimes they forget to check that the speed they want to move at is okay for you as well as them.”
“Oh, it’s not like that with me and Warrick,” I say quickly, hating that something that feels like regret tugs low in my stomach.
“It’s not?” she questions.
“Oh, no. I just needed a place to stay for a few days, and he’s a really good guy,” I tell her. But is that a lie? He kissed me. He’s told me this is my home. I’ve felt his arousal and he’s admitted that he’s glad that I’m a virgin. But he’s not moving too quickly. In fact he’s not moving fast at all. He’s the one that’s stopped the couple of kisses we’ve had turning into something more.
“So you’re not a couple?” Octy questions, her brows drawn together in confusion.
“We’ve only known each other for a few days.”
Chuckling, she waves my words away. “That doesn’t matter in Rockhead Peak.”
“Have you eaten lunch?” the guy Knight growls from the kitchen, the refrigerator door open, his expression dark.
