in the South and had the added benefit of being in Charleston. But still…it wasn’t much better than my dress.
Shit, why did I even care?
Oh, of course I cared. He was hot as fucking sin. The man made delectable a proper noun. It was ridiculous.
I finally settled on. “Uh…why?”
“I wanted to speak with you.”
Very specific.
I rolled my eyes.
“I guess so.”
The door handle turned, and I tried to look natural. As natural as a deer caught in headlights. A gazelle staring down a lion.
Sometimes, I really wished my writer brain would turn off.
Like right now.
Penn stepped through the open door, and my breath caught. He’d removed his suit coat and his black tie. The white button-up underneath was undone on the first two buttons, and it fit him as if it had been made for him. Broad shoulders that narrowed down to his trim waist and those incredible legs.
I admonished myself with an imaginary smack in the face and met his cool blue gaze. “Can I help you?”
He leaned against the open doorframe and slid a hand into his pocket. Habit maybe. “I came to check on you.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to make sure that you were all right.” His eyes moved to the open suitcase on the bed and the mess of clothes between it and the drawer. He straightened. The only sign that my packing had taken him by surprise. “Are you leaving?”
“Yeah. I’m just packing now, and I’ll be out of your hair by the morning.”
“That was not what I meant.”
“Well, why don’t you say what you mean?” For once, was the implied addition. “I’m kind of busy.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
“Of course I do. This is your house. I was hired to watch and maintain an empty house for the season before some big party in November. Not only is the house not empty, but I also assume I’ll be fired by Monday. So, I might as well get started.” I stuffed another shirt into the suitcase to make a point.
“Why on earth would you get fired?”
I released an exasperated breath. “Lark hired me. After that performance, I can’t imagine her reporting back kindly.”
“Lark…isn’t going to report back to my mother.”
Now, I turned to him fully. My own surprise clear. “Why ever not?”
“This is actually her first real vacation in three years. She got the weekend off from the office, and I dragged her here with the others after her last event.” He gestured to his suit as if to say, Hence the outfit. “The fact that it slipped her mind that you were here is a testament to how much she needs it. So, you can imagine work is the last thing on her mind.”
I couldn’t imagine. Her life sounded horrible. Who didn’t take any time off for three years? What kind of slave driver was Mayor Kensington?
“But,” he continued when I didn’t respond immediately, “we can get out of your hair. Head back to the city or something. So see, you should stay. And we’ll go.”
“No, that’s absurd. This is your house. I’m the interloper here. Even if Lark doesn’t report me, which I’m still doubting, I would get in the way. There’s no reason for me to be here if you’re here.”
“But it’s your job. None of us”—he paused on the word us, as if contemplating whether what he was about to say was true—“wants to take that from you. So, you should stay.”
“I’m already halfway packed.”
“Natalie,” he said softly.
He stepped forward into the room and placed his hand on one of the posters of the bed. His gaze softened and bore into mine. I was transfixed once more. The way he said my name. The way he stared at me. Oh god, he was such a menace.
“Don’t,” I snapped.
His eyebrows rose in response.
“Don’t say my name like you know me or even care whether I stay or go. We don’t know each other. And I’m certain I don’t want to know you.”
It was harsh but honest. And I didn’t feel bad, saying it.
“Fine,” he finally muttered on a sigh. “We’ll figure it out in the morning once you’ve cooled off.”
“I don’t need to cool off,” I bit out. “I’m perfectly levelheaded.”
“Just stay,” he barked.
“No, I think I should go.”
He walked back to the door. “Do whatever you want, I guess. I came to check to make sure that you weren’t humiliated after what happened. But it seems that your pride is too great to even continue staying under the same roof as us. You don’t