Page 55

She smiles. “Yes, and I’m jealous.”

Thankfully, my housekeeper came this morning and everything is clean and tidy. I guide her down the hallway to the bathroom. Is this a weird thing to be showing her? Probably.

When we walk inside my master bedroom, Andie gasps. “Oh my gosh! Your bed is gigantic.”

“As you like to say, I’m a big man.” I shrug and point to the open door leading to the bathroom.

She follows my finger and rushes over to see the large standing tub in the center of the bathroom. On one wall is a long vanity with two sinks, and on the other wall is a tiled shower with five waterfall shower heads. That shower is the reason I rented this place, actually.

Andie bursts out laughing and walks over to the vanity, grabbing the bottle of Captain Bubbles off of the counter. “Ah-ha! I knew it.”

Dang it, I forgot to put that bottle away when I took a bath earlier.

In one quick step, I’m next to her, grabbing the bottle out of her hand. She reaches up, trying to snag it from me, but I lift it above my head. Oh, and there’s that gorgeous outie, peeking out from under her shirt as she reaches up for the Captain Bubbles.

Thank you, Captain Bubbles.

Andie gives up and looks at me through slitted eyes. “Why do you have Captain Bubbles after making fun of mine?”

I sigh and put the bubble bath away inside the cabinet. “Well, I kind of… go to…”

“Spit it out, I don’t have all day.”

“I’m in therapy,” I blurt. Her expression changes from annoyed to something softer. Not pity, I couldn’t handle pity. But something that feels like a warm hug. Not that I’ve really had one of those. “He recommended I find a way to relax that didn’t involve screens… or hockey.”

“So, you tried a bubble bath?”

I throw my hands up, not wanting to talk about this anymore. “Noah told me to, okay? He said you take baths and listen to books to relax. I thought I’d try it.”

I exit the bathroom and my bedroom and wait for her in the hallway. She follows quickly and stands by my side. “And you loved it? Didn’t you?”

“You’re annoying.”

“You did!” She lifts her index finger to my nose and boops it.

I think she’s the only human on this planet that could boop my nose and get away with it. I just stare at her in shock.

“Alright, come on. I’m starving.” She starts walking toward the kitchen, waving an arm for me to follow her.

The woman has been here five minutes and is already acting like she owns the place. Surprisingly, it’s not annoying. She can own this place—and me—if she wants to.

Andie spots the soup and sandwiches at the bar, along with the plates and glasses I set out, and makes an aw sound. “Did you set this for us? I love soup.”

I scratch the back of my neck and look at my feet. “Oh, yeah. Same.” Smooth, Mitch. Really smooth. When I bring my head back up and see her staring at the arm that’s behind my head, I gain a little confidence back.

Her eyes snap to meet mine and she blushes adorably. “Tell me about your tattoos.” She scoots one of my mid-century modern chairs out and takes a seat.

I sit beside her, basking in that bubble gum scent for a moment. “The tiger is a memory of my dad. My last good memory.”

She asks, “Did he pass away?”

“He’s in prison,” I say bluntly, then remove the lids from our salads and soup.

I can feel her staring at me. “I’m sorry, Mitch.”

Andie never says my name, it’s always Anderson, or Big Man. I relish in the sound of my name on her lips, playing it over a few times so I remember what it sounded like. “I’m sorry about your parents, too. What happened to them?” I immediately regret prodding and add, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Head-on collision with a semi truck. The driver fell asleep and crossed a median,” she says softly.