Storm helps me out of the truck and I smack his hands away. “I can walk to the door myself, Storm. John did a great job shoveling.” I have had it with being carried around and I damn sure did not want him carrying me into his house.
“Fine, but if you fall on your ass, I’m going to laugh at you.”
Whatever.
Niko obviously recognizes he’s home because he races us to the front door, and then he sits there all impatient-like, lifting his front paws up and down waiting for Storm to unlock the door.
“He loves it here,” Storm tells me. “We hang out here a lot to get away from everyone.”
I’m not sure exactly who Storm feels the need to hide from, but he’s mentioned it enough to pique my interest to make sure I find out.
Chapter Five
Storm unlocks the door and we go inside. And it’s freezing.
“I thought you had heat?” I yell at him. He flicks on the light, but I’m so mad at him I don’t even bother to look around. “It’s fucking freezing in here, Storm!”
He throws his hands up. “Calm your shit. I haven’t been up here in months. I don’t leave the heat on full blast if I’m not here. I’ll turn it up now and light up a fire. It’ll be warm in here in no time.” He disappears down the hallway to turn the heat on I presume.
I finally take in my surroundings. The place is gorgeous. It’s all open-concept with a large living room, a huge wraparound couch, a big stone fireplace, a dining room area, and a gorgeous kitchen. The vaulted ceilings and skylights give the rooms so much depth. It’s definitely not a small place. In fact, it’s bigger than the condo Michael and I live in. I take a few steps further into the living room. A huge flat screen TV is on the wall, surrounded by pieces of artwork. The decor is very earthy with some Native American accents.
Storm reappears from the hallway and motions at me to get out of the foyer area. “Evie, come in and sit. I’m going to light a fire.”
I sit on the couch and bend over to take my shoes off. “I am never, ever, wearing these shoes again.” Storm is kneeling in front of the fireplace trying to get the fire started. “Good idea.” He says over his shoulder at me.
“Why don’t you have one of those fancy electric fireplaces?” I ask, rubbing my cold and sore feet.
The fire is lit now, orange flames dancing. He steps away and watches it for a few moments. “No way. There’s nothing like the smell of a real fire.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. This place is beautiful, Storm. Is it really yours?”
He spins on his heel to stare at me and runs his hand through his hair. “What? You don’t think someone who looks like me can have a nice place?”
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that...”
But yeah. He looks like a construction worker. How much money could he make working on motorcycles or whatever he does?
“Maybe I’m a trust fund baby, Evelyn. Did that possibility ever cross your little judgmental mind?”