“You have a wonderful daughter.”
Hearing my words, his gaze shifts from the couch to me, but he simply nods in acknowledgement.
“Thank you so much, Keith. I—” I’m about to thank him for letting me stay the night in their private space, but he interrupts me.
“Go to sleep, Clementine. It’s pretty late. You have work tomorrow and so do I.”
But even after I have covered myself with the purple blanket, Keith makes no attempt to leave.
“Is there something you want to say?”
He nods and shoves his hands inside his pockets. From this angle, I have a hard time keeping my gaze away from the waistband of his low-hanging pants, the drool-worthy V lines that I have mostly seen on TV or the internet on full display.
“This is only for tonight, Clementine. You need to respect the privacy of my home,” he whispers before glancing briefly at Merida’s closed door. “I cannot have Mere get too attached to a temporary tenant just because she doesn’t have any other female company in her life. She’s a good kid, but she’s…also vulnerable and I won’t let my daughter get hurt.”
He looks frustrated toward the end of his sentence as he runs his hand through his hair. His agitation palpable by his tensed muscles, which distract me again.
So many questions sprout in my brain, especially why doesn’t Mere have female company? Keith seems to be a complete package, caring and handsome. Oscar told me nothing about Merida’s mom. Where is she?
“I can assure you, Keith, I’ll never hurt Mere.”
He nods before leaving me alone in the big living room, but his words have somehow caused my heart to sink into my boots. His care, protectiveness, and worry for Mere is something I know very well, or the lack of it. I was raised by people who weren’t my parents. As a child, I used to crave my mom’s attention, threw tantrums to get some time with her, until I realized she had much more important things to do. But Merida is such a lucky kid to have such a doting father.
I turn several times on the couch before accepting the fact that sleep is no friend of mine tonight. I check my cell phone and it’s five.
It’s not unusual for me to get up early in the morning. I’m used to getting up and working whenever an idea strikes me. But it’s anxiety of the previous day and nervousness about today that’s not letting me sleep this morning. I gently get off the couch, placing one foot on the floor at a time.
I glance at the stairs to my loft and then to the open-space kitchen. I should go back but I don’t have anything upstairs and I need coffee.
Ugh, the coffee machine in Keith’s kitchen is winking at me and calling my name but he asked me explicitly to not encroach on their space after tonight.
What should I do? But isn’t it technically still night? Sun isn’t up yet.
I enter the kitchen and look around. Apart from Hawthorne Mansion, I’ve only lived at Rose’s apartment for a brief period. In my home there’s always someone in the kitchen ready to serve whatever you like, and in Rose’s apartment I didn’t spend much time in the kitchen either. In fact, it was her fiancé, Zander, who spent most of the time in the kitchen among the three of us.
But now I’m baffled by everything. The huge oven, the bulky coffee machine, everything seems to be suited for Keith. His big, rugged, sizzling—ahem, I mean strong body.
I stand on my toes and peer inside the giant V-shaped cup. This is definitely not one of the straightforward coffee makers.
Of course! A complicated machine for a complicated man. I chuckle before realizing I’m standing in my landlord’s—one who is not excited to see me lingering in his house—kitchen at five and smiling like a lunatic. I need to make my coffee and go upstairs as fast as I can.
“How are you gonna work? Let’s first find your power button.” Putting my hands around the machine, I almost hug it. “There you are. Now water.”
There is a water bottle on the table. When I make a grab for it, the plastic slips from my hand.
“Crap!” I mutter and immediately crouch down.
Picking up the bottle, I stay low for a few seconds, listening to see if someone is up. When I don’t hear anything, I rise and pour water in the boiler.
“Now coffee.” I look everywhere but can’t seem to locate where the pods would go in the machine. I open several cupboards to look for coffee, but nothing.
It’s also hard given I’m using my phone light to search, but I can’t risk the danger of waking up Keith. I’m bent over the kitchen counter when someone grabs me from behind.
Before I can scream, a strong hand covers my mouth and I’m pulled from the counter to a hot slab of muscles. Someone runs their free hand over my arms before it reaches my waist.
“Clementine?” Keith asks in surprise. “What the fuck are you doing in the dark?” he hisses in my ear before removing his hand from my mouth.
“I was…making coffee.” My voice trembles and my heart races inside my chest. His tight hold on my stomach and the other hand on my chin is scary and…seductive. No one has touched me like this. Through my thin nightshirt I feel his bare chest.