I follow the sound and find her in the back den. The room is small—too small for a bedroom—and has no windows.
“This is perfect,” she says, a smile lighting up her pretty face. She looks happy, in her comfort zone in the den.
“Perfect for what?” An isolation chamber? A prisoner’s solitary confinement. I back out of the room, feeling claustrophobic.
She blinks up at me with unsure eyes. “I’m going to claim this space if that’s okay with everyone.”
“No one is using it, and you don’t have to ask. This is your place.”
She frowns and looks down. “I don’t want to put anyone out, though.”
“What is this room perfect for?” I ask.
She picks up a stack of papers, taps the bottom edges on the desk a few times to arrange them, then sets the stack neatly near yet another laptop. How many computers does she need?
“I just have some work to do while I’m here,” she says.
I give her a second to elaborate, but whatever she’s working on is not my business, apparently. That’s okay. She’s entitled to her secret. Just like I’m entitled to mine. Bridgette’s boy. Christ, I could have throat punched Jason.
I shove my hands into my pockets. “Hungry?”
“I’m starving, actually.” Her focus moves to my sweater then sweeps the length of me. Damn, is she checking me out? “Am I dressed okay?” she asks.
Guess not.
Which is a good thing. I’m not about to start something with her.
“The place isn’t elaborate, but the food is good. You’ll need a coat, though.” I walk to the front room and grab mine from the closet. She glances in before I shut the door behind me.
“About that. I didn’t pack one. I was sure I did, but then I got distracted…” Her words fall off as she stops to examine a picture of a young girl hung near the front entrance.
I walk up to her, put my mouth near her ear, and whisper, “Does that happen often?”
She makes a high-pitched squeaking sound similar to the one she made today when I rolled her across the road. “For a big guy, you’re quite stealthy.”
“You disappeared for a minute there.”
“Just thinking,” she says. I drop my coat over her shoulders to keep her warm, and she stares at it like it might come alive and bite her. Jesus, could she be any more adorable?
She begins to shrug out of it, but I stop her. “I can’t—”
“There isn’t a guy in this house who will let you leave without proper gear. It’s a thing.”
“What about you? I’m not about to—”
“Jason, Sam, Cody,” I yell out. Cody had come home a bit later, and after a brief introduction to Kira, he went to his room, likely to play video games. Izzy was probably out knocking back a beer at the Anchor, the local watering hole. We all have our own way of winding down after a hard day.
A chorus of, “What,” comes from upstairs.
“Kira is trying to leave the house without a coat.”
Footsteps pound on the wooden stairs, and I grin as big brown eyes take in the most blatant display of machismo I’ve ever seen. Unlike any other fishing village I’ve been in, Lunenburg has a sense of family, everyone looking out for everyone else. Kira doesn’t stand a chance of getting out of here underdressed.
“I forgot my coat.” She waves a dismissive hand that is lost on these guys. “It’s no big deal. I don’t plan to be around for the snow, so I don’t want to waste money buying one when I have a perfectly good coat back home.”
“Tomorrow we’ll start a coat fund,” Jason says, his head bobbing.
“Yeah, good plan. I’ll grab a pickle jar from the shed,” Sam says, looking at Jason.
“Good idea,” Cody pipes in, and pulls a ten spot from his pocket. “I’ll donate first.”
“I’m right here,” Kira blurts out. “And I’m not a charity case. You guys don’t have to look out for me.