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“No!”
His brows lifted. “Not ever?”
“I’ve seen them in pet stores and stuff, but never inside a house.”
“I hate to tell you, but if that little thing freaks you out, you might want to avoid walking down the block at five AM on garbage collection days. You’ll see rats bigger than your head.”
My eyes bulged. “You’re not helping!”
He chuckled. “Alright. I’ve got it from here.”
“You’ve got it? What does that even mean?”
He placed his hand at the small of my back and steered me toward the stairs. “It means I’m going to get rid of it. And you should go upstairs.”
“Get rid of it with what? Your bare hands?”
“I’ll figure it out. Just go.”
“What if there’s a mouse in my apartment now?”
“There’s not a mouse in your apartment.”
“How do you know? You didn’t know there was one down here, did you?”
The corner of his mouth twitched again. “Go to my apartment. I was just in it, and I promise it’s one-hundred-percent rodent free.”
He gave me another nudge. “Now go.”
“If that thing gets out, I’m moving.”
“Noted.”
My heart raced as I left the basement. When I went into his apartment, I gave the place a scan, in search of any unusual movement. The kitchen seemed clear on the surface, but I wasn’t going to relax until I did a full sweep. So I cracked open cabinet doors, peeked behind the couch, and made my way through the living room and into his bedroom.
There, a stack of painted canvases leaned against one wall. After I finished scanning the room, curiosity won out, and I walked over to thumb through them carefully. They were…beautiful. Nude figures done in charcoal, bold abstract pieces in rich color—each one different, yet they all had the same sensual feel to them.
“Did you find any mice in there?”
I jumped, nearly dropping the front canvas against the one behind it.
Rafe stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with amusement in his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” I set the canvas carefully back with the others. “I wasn’t snooping. I was checking for mice, and then I saw these and…”
He raised a brow. “You decided to snoop.”
I offered a sheepish smile. It wasn’t like I could deny it. “Maybe a little.”
He didn’t look upset. If anything, he looked pleased.
“They’re really good,” I said. “Like, really good.”
He shrugged and pushed off the doorframe. “Thanks.”
“You made all of these?”
“Yeah.” He walked over and stood beside me, glancing down at the stack. “Painting is my first love.”
