“It’s okay. I keep the door to my murder dungeon locked.”
I turn slowly to stare at him with wide eyes, fighting a smile.
“Just kidding. Maybe.” Miles winks, and my urge to smile grows.
“I’m going to just pretend like you didn’t say that, mmkay?”
He has the decency to look slightly embarrassed as he turns around to put away his shoes. “I’ll show you the room if you want.”
“Which room?” I ask suspiciously as I point at the ground and mouth,“The dungeon?”
Miles grins, and I realize it’s infectious. “I meant the room that will be yours.” He pauses as he looks at my shaking arms, which are covered in goose bumps. “Or I can make us a hot pot of coffee first? You look like you need to warm up.”
I nod quickly at that. I stood on that front porch for a long time, wallowing in my crisis of wondering if I was walking into my own murder.
A hot cup of coffee does sound nice.
Besides, if I go look at the room that would be mine, it will feel like I’m definitely committing to staying here. Never mind the fact that I’m carrying a bag full of clothes and the rest of my stuff is in my car. If I say I like the room, that means I’m committed to staying. It’s like signing on a dotted line.
Miles and I really don’t know each other. We have mutual acquaintances—my sister and her boss—and a sweet woman named Margaret. My sister introduced me to Margaret, the woman who seems to know everybody in town. We even spent some time at Margaret’s house during her famous game nights she hosts. And it was Margaret who suggested Miles and I be roommates since he lives alone and is hardly ever here.
Miles texted me and told me that he had an extra room at his house and that I was welcome to move in and be his roommate. The rest is history.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he walks to the kitchen and gets a glass of water from the sink.
I’m still frozen in place, so I kick off my tennis shoes, push them to the side of the entryway, and follow him into the kitchen, still carrying my giant duffel.
“You can just toss that on the couch if you want,” he suggests.
I make my way into the living room. There’s a small brown couch with throw pillows and then a big L-shaped one, which faces a large TV that’s easily visible from the open-concept kitchen. The TV is the size of a small island and probably has its own zip code.
There’s a window that overlooks the front yard, and there are even curtains hanging up.
I was not expecting a bachelor’s house to be so…cozy.
Miles’s movements fall silent, and I glance over my shoulder to see that he’s drinking the tall glass of water. I didn’t realize that an Adam’s apple moved with each swallow—or that a neck had muscles.Why is it so hard to take my eyes off him?
Miles sets the glass down with a clink, and I jerk my head around so that he doesn’t catch me staring at his neck like a creep.
Maybe he should be concerned about havingmeas a roommate if I’m going to be busy ogling his neck, of all things.
“So,” he says, as he gets some coffee creamer out of the fridge, “are you ready to start work on Monday?”
Right. My work at the veterinary clinic is one of the main reasons I moved here.
“Oh, I guess so. I think I’m nervous, actually.” I toss my bag on the couch, then walk back to the kitchen. “How did you know I start on Monday?”
“I talked to Willa at the office. She said you were starting right away.” He looks at me with shrewd eyes as he closes the fridge door slowly. I’d almost forgotten that he works with my sister at Kappa Holdings. Miles is part owner of of the company along with Willa’s boss and sort-of boyfriend, Kingston. “I got the idea that she doesn’t know you’re moving in with me.”
I try to keep the surprise from my face as I ask him, “Did you tell her?”
He grins. “Are you gonna be in trouble if I do?”
“You enjoy a little chaos, don’t you?” I smirk as I sink down onto one of the comfortable barstools.
“I mentioned something to her the other day about you moving soon, and she said she hoped you could find a place quickly. That was after we texted and you said you would live here…”
The coffeepot spits out the most delicious-smelling coffee, and I realize he must have had it set on a timer because he hasn’teven touched the pot since we walked in. The trickle of hot water is the only sound in the house for a few seconds as Miles studies my face, waiting for an explanation.
