walked through the list I’d been given to handle everything. But for the most part, I let people inside and made sure nothing was stolen or unaccounted for.
Then on Tuesday morning, the aroma of coffee wafted invitingly from the kitchen. When I stepped out there in my gray polka-dot pajama bottoms and white tank, I found a pot of coffee already brewed. There was a note next to it in crisp, neat handwriting that said, Help yourself.
Wednesday, I let Totle swim with me when I was supposed to be doing laps. But no sign of his owner.
On Thursday, I caught my first glimpse of him running with Totle down the beach, shirtless. My cheeks turned the exact shade of a ripe tomato, and I quickly pulled myself away from the window. Later that day, I found a half-empty bowl of water and a set of sandy paw prints next to the outdoor shower.
I didn’t see Penn again until Sunday. I’d been cooped up all weekend, working on my book. It hardly held my interest at this point. There was a new idea scratching at the back of my brain, and I kept going back to it when I knew I should be working on the book I’d promised my agent.
I desperately needed a break from the desk I had been utilizing in my room. Walks down the beach were nice for brainstorming. The deck was good for piecing it all together. But I was a creature of habit, and I liked a little structure for my work, which was how I ended up in the library.
With a yawn, I pushed open the door to the library and was immediately attacked by Totle.
“Sorry,” I murmured when I saw Penn sitting at the bay window, scribbling furiously into his notebook. The pen scratching against the paper was music to my ears.
His hand yanked on his hair, as if it might help him fit his writing together into a masterpiece. “Do you need this space?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nope. Didn’t know you were in here.”
“I can leave,” he said quickly.
I scooped up Totle. “Just going to steal him.”
Penn laughed. “By all means.”
Monday night, he ordered pizza. It was the first time he’d actively sought me out in our first week as accidental roommates. And he only did it to make sure that I didn’t have any allergies or if I had a pizza preference. When it showed up, he knocked on my door to let me know it was here.
I ate a piece in the kitchen as I jotted down notes on my newest character arc. I’d given up on the other book. This one was better. Much better.
Tuesday, we had cold pizza for breakfast in front of the kitchen. Totle stared up at us, begging for scraps. I found I liked Penn better in his unassuming clothes with stubble on his jaw and ink on his fingers.
Wednesday, I watched him write on the back deck. His intensity was unparalleled. I didn’t know what he was writing. Philosophy, of course. But besides the fact that he taught ethics, I knew nothing about what had driven him into the study. I didn’t know how much of what he’d once told me about his passions was true. It’d seemed true, and still, I was hesitant to believe that it was.
But this was what had interested me about him in the first place. That damn leather notebook and ballpoint pen. A far-off look that said he was discovering the secrets of the universe and that he had plenty of secrets of his own. As a writer, his love for the written word drew me in like a moth to a flame.
What was he writing?
Why did he have to look like that when he did it?
Thursday, I had to deal with the interior decorator who wanted me to walk her around the house all day. She seemed talented, which made me question why she wanted my input. I didn’t get any writing done. I didn’t see Penn either.
Friday, I played catch-up on my work and crashed into bed early. I was exhausted from all the words I’d written. It was finally flowing like water down a river. I had definitely made the right choice in switching books.
A weight landed on the bed.
My eyes cracked open, and I jolted backward in fear. What the hell was that?
I peered through the darkness. That was when I saw a small puppy-shaped blob walking across the bed. I relaxed