He retrieves the bag and comes in a minute later with an armful of clothes. “Here. She left you a note, too.”
There’s a white envelope on top of the small stack of clothes. I take both from him, slide the clothes onto his bed, then open the little envelope. The message is short, written in Paisley’s sloped script.
I didn’t wantto text and pry, and felt anything I texted you, my brother could see.
Don’t let him read this. After you read it, toss it in his fire.
I’m not going to ask if you hooked up with my brother, because I REALLY am okay NOT knowing.
I just want to make sure you’re safe.
I just want to make sure my brothers don’t have reasons for hurting you.
I know who they are. I know what they are capable of, and I WILL interfere if I need to.
So when I see you… give me a signal. Shake your head from side to side if you’re in trouble, nod if you’re not.
Or send me a text. “All good” if you’re fine, just “good” if you’re not.
I’ll see you soon.
Tate’s busyinghimself making the bed and tidying up. I like that he’s a tidy sort.
“Everything alright?”
“Oh, aye, these clothes look good,” I say, as I step toward the fireplace and pretend to be warming myself by the dying flames. His back’s to me, so I quickly drop the paper into the flames, and the fire licks up fast, burning brightly again.
He turns and looks at me curiously.
I put my back to the fire, hoping to block the letter, and smile at him.
“I’ll just go get changed, then… need a shower.”
He nods. “Go on, then. You’ll find everything you need in there. But make it quick, I’ve got to get up to the main house soon.”
I step into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I frown at the handle. There’s no lock. Who doesn’t put a lock on the door to the toilet?
Honestly?
Whatever, I need a shower. I place the clothes she gave me—a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie—on a little table beside a vase of flowers and look around the room. Thick, fluffy towels the color of a summer sky sit on a shelf next to the sink. It’s somehow both modern and antiquated in here, complete with a clawfoot tub. A girl could soak in a tub like that while reading a good romance, the room lit only by candlelight. Mmmm. Sounds divine.
But he told me to be quick, and I know my place here. I’m only with Tate because he’s keeping an eye on me.
I hear him on the phone in the other room and realize I’ve taken far too long already. I turn the shower on, and while the water warms, open up the wee bag of toiletries.
There are little bottles of fragrant lotions and soaps in the bag Paisley gave me, along with a fresh razor, a small tube of deodorant, and some lip gloss. There’s a shiny blue package I don’t recognize at first, so when I open it, my jaw unhinges at the sight of half a dozen condoms.
Paisley!
I go straight from “oh my God what does she think we’re doing” to “what is she doing with this many condoms?”
Oh my God. I groan and shove them to the back of the bag. I might need them, but she doesn’t have to know that.
I enjoy every minute of this. The large, crystal-clean shower. The scent of high-quality soap and shampoo. Even the razor is one of the nicest ones I've ever used.
I know that my friends are well-to-do. I know they're wealthy, and they live in a really nice house with really nice things. But it isn't until I'm actually staying with them that I see exactly how nice things are.
I'll enjoy them while I'm here.
