He jumps to his feet and frowns a little. “Your face is looking better.”
I chuckle. “Thanks?”
“I just meant that it looks like it’s healing…”
Did his ears just turn red? Aw, that’s kind of sweet.
“I know.” I smile. “Maybe we can stop at a drug store and I can pick up some arnica. It helps with bruising.”
“Sure.” He nods. “Okay, ten minutes.” He disappears into his bedroom, closing the door behind him, and I sink down on the couch.
I was too tired last night to really take in my surroundings but now I look around curiously. This is definitely a bachelor pad, with a big, expensive-looking TV on the wall and a massivesectional that takes up most of the room. Other than that, it’s pretty sparse. There’s one framed piece of art hanging on the wall, some kind of abstract conglomeration of colors, but that’s it. No throw pillows, no chachkas or decorations, everything fairly basic.
The flooring is a dark wood, the couch is black, the TV stand underneath where the TV is hung is black, and the stools by the small kitchen counter are dark gray. There’s a rug in the kitchen that’s a combination of gray and red, and his Keurig machine is red. That’s about it for color. And his bedroom is the same except that his dresser and nightstand are dark mahogany wood.
He definitely needs a new color palette, but it’s not my place to say so.
I get up to stare out the window and note that his building is on a quiet side street. We’re in Culver City, an area I don’t know very well, but it seems nice enough. Not the kind of apartment I’d live in—my condo is bigger, brighter and overlooks the water—but I made some decent money when I was modeling so I could afford to buy it. Military men probably don’t make a lot, although I imagine the private sector pays better.
Thinking about money makes me melancholy.
I called the bank yesterday and there were no fraudulent charges but they canceled my debit card anyway. It’s going to take five business days to get the replacement, so I have to survive with the thousand dollars my dad lent me until then. My American Express card should arrive in a couple of days, so that will help, even though I don’t really need anything while I’m in hiding.
In hiding.
I dislike that I have to hide, but if I have to be locked away with a bodyguard, I would absolutely want it to be with Landon.
There’s something about him that soothes me. Makes me feel safe. That’s probably a reaction to my ordeal but it’s morethan that. My father could protect me, but he doesn’t necessarily make me feel safe. Landon is just…protective. Gentle. Strong. A combination that quiets the demons lurking at the edge of my subconscious.
“Ready to go?” Landon comes out of the bedroom looking…gorgeous.
He’s wearing khaki pants, a short-sleeve navy polo shirt that pulls tight across his shoulders and gives me a lovely view of his biceps, and black boots. His dark hair is still damp from the shower, falling over his forehead in a sexy little curl.
God, he’s hot.
I shouldn’t be thinking things like this, but I can’t seem to help it, so I avert my eyes as I get to my feet.
“Yes. Ready.”
We head down to the parking garage and get in his truck. Five minutes later he pulls into a Starbucks and we order coffee and sandwiches. Then we head south toward Sage Canyon.
“Thank you for giving up your bed,” I say once I’ve eaten. “It’s very comfortable.”
“As I’m sure you noticed, I don’t have a lot of luxuries but my mattress cost almost ten grand. That’s one thing I’ll splurge on every time.”
“Damn.” I let out a low whistle. “Well, I’d say it’s worth every penny.”
“My body works hard,” he says. “The least I can do is give it a comfortable place to relax. Especially now that I’m a little older.”
“How old are you?” I ask curiously.
“Thirty-eight. What about you?”
“Twenty-eight.” Why do I suddenly feel a lot older?
“Have you always lived here? In Southern California?”
“Yes. I went to UCLA and commuted back and forth to New York for a while but this is home. What about you?”
