“Right. I need to set up his bed and stuff,” she said. “I’ll go to the house and grab his bed and food. Can you keep an eye on him?”
“Ugh, sure.”
“Sorry. I’ll be quick, I promise.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, she returned, letting herself in while holding Mr. Flufffer’s bed and a laundry bag filled with his essentials.
She found Knox drinking a glass of wine, sitting in his living room, with Mr. Fluffers lying next to him in the couch. But her entrance rattled Mr. Fluffers, who jumped to the floor and came to greet her, his tail wagging like he hadn’t seen her in about eight months.
“I was about to tell you ‘I just got him to calm down’,” Knox said with a hint of mockery, taking a sip of his drink.
“I know how that feels. I’ve babysat quite a few times, yet never met a toddler as fussy as Mr. Fluffers. He’s very particular.”
“He’s all yours,” Knox said, then picked up his glass and stood. “You should have everything you need. There’s food in the fridge and if you want to order anything, my name and password for my account are on a Post-It note on the island. If you have any questions, holler at me. I’ll be upstairs in my office.”
“Sure,” she said.
She guessed they wouldn’t share dinner or order takeout together. She was on her own. But the man had to eat, right? Maybe he wanted to show her some distance, a boundary of sorts. They still didn’t address the elephant in the room, and it was probably better that way. She didn’t want to tell him she was sorry for kissing him, or accepting to come here—really, practically suggest the idea to Mrs. Smith. But her little plan had worked, or the first portion of it.
She was in close quarters, sleeping under the same roof. Now, she needed to spend more time with him. And that meant uncharted territory. How to seduce an experienced, worldly man when she had never done the deed herself?
Knox glanced at the empty screen.
He’d never spent this much time with the dreaded writer’s block. If this continued, he’d have to tell Ben. The production company would not be happy. He’d need to call his entertainment lawyer to check some clauses. Fuck.
Not even when he and Sandra had decided to get divorced had his creative well run dry.
Back then, of course, he didn’t have a luscious young woman in his home.
His gut clenched. A very luscious woman, achingly so.
He rubbed his eyes. She was acting like they never made out, and given the circumstances, that was the best call. How could he do the same? Not to her, of course. But how could he tell himself that their kiss, their hookup had never happened? He needed to wipe out that memory before it distracted him even further.
A knock on the door almost jolted him from his seat. “Come in,” he said.
She opened the door and walked in, holding a small tray. “I’ve made sandwiches and figured you could use one.”
She placed it on his desk, and he noticed the sourdough bread sandwich, along with a glass filled with ice water. Then, she shrugged, like she didn’t know exactly what to do.
He never had anyone in his office, besides the cleaning crew every week.
That was a space he didn’t like to share—a piece of his world he didn’t invite people into unless they saw the result in the movies—or his agent saw them first. Certainly, no one from his family or friends.
“Oh, you were working,” she said, maybe sensing his discomfort. Did the look on his face give something away?
“I was,” he said.
“Sorry.” A wave of red spread across her cheeks. “I’ll get out of your hair,” she said, then before he responded, turned around and left, closing the door behind her.
Shit. He probably hurt her feelings with his lack of enthusiasm over her kind gesture.
He picked up the sandwich, and gave it a brutish bite, expecting to hate it. Out of spite, like a bratty child. Then, as he chewed it and swallowed, hints of hummus spread, tomato, Manchego cheese and a few spices he couldn’t name but tasted damn good.
Regret stabbed at his chest.
Shit. She’d prepared a delicious sandwich for him, and brought it without expecting anything in return. Probably as a thank you for having her over. She didn’t have to do any of it—if his neighbor Alice had asked him to have a dude over for the night, he’d have done the same thing.
