Teddy Spenser Isn't Looking for Love - Kim Fielding Page 0,69

probably waiting for him.

They ended the kiss and Teddy watched Romeo walk away.

Chapter Twenty

Teddy’s studio apartment—barely larger than the Seattle hotel room—had only two winter temperature settings, depending on the boiler: tropical and arctic. He was relieved to discover that this was a tropical day, and he shed layers as soon as he was inside.

Clad in nothing but socks, underwear, and an undershirt, he took a quick look around. He’d left everything tidy, although he’d need to clean out the fridge since he’d been gone longer than anticipated. New life forms appeared to be evolving in the tiny vegetable drawer.

With his landlord’s consent, Teddy had painted the industrial white walls a cozy greige instead. He’d salvaged and painted an old bookcase that, together with lightweight curtains in a Portuguese tile pattern, created a room divider to separate his bed from the rest of the room without making the sleeping area claustrophobic. His apartment didn’t contain a lot of furniture or knickknacks, but he’d chosen each item with consideration for both practical and decorative value. Even his diminutive kitchen had functional and aesthetic worth.

It was no waterfront mansion, but he liked his home. He’d be heartbroken if he had to give it up.

And God, he missed Romeo already.

Although he would have preferred running naked through Millennium Park to calling his boss, Teddy took a deep breath and dialed. Lauren picked up after the first ring.

“Hey, Teddy.” Her voice was neutral, but that was usual for her.

“Hi. We’re back.”

“Great. No problems with the flight or anything?”

“No, it was fine.”

“Great. Get your receipts to Skyler for reimbursement. It should take just a few days to get you repaid.”

“I don’t have many receipts. Joyce paid for almost everything except the hotel.” Teddy sat on his love seat, a comfortable but basic Ikea model he’d spruced up with a vintage cotton bedspread from India and a couple of throw pillows.

“She mentioned that,” Joyce said. “She also said that although she gave you guys free rein with her card, you were pretty frugal.”

Teddy straightened a pillow tassel with his fingers. “So you’ve spoken to her already.”

“She called me this morning.”

“Congratulations on getting the project funded, Lauren. That’s really fantastic.” He pulled up all his acting skills on that one, attempting to sound sincere instead of gutted. He was genuinely happy for Lauren, who was a good person.

“Teddy, we need to talk.”

Oh no—there they were. The four deadliest words in the English language.

“Okay,” he replied evenly, although when he looked down, he had two loose strands of tassel caught between his fingers. He must have tugged them out. “Look, we both know how critical Romeo is to—”

“It’s late and you had a long flight. Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you in two days.”

“Not tomorrow?”

“You had quite an experience in Seattle. You deserve a little downtime. And by then my nieces will be out of my hair.”

She likely thought she was giving him a reprieve, so he managed a polite good-night before ending the call. It didn’t feel like a reprieve, however, but rather like extended torture: the guy in the black hood turning the wheel on the rack very slowly. He’d prefer that the guy just crank that baby.

After patting the tassel apologetically and throwing away the ruined strands, Teddy nestled his new teddy bear between the throw pillows and got to work. He unpacked his luggage, folding or hanging the clean items and tossing dirty stuff into the hamper. His old suitcase nested conveniently inside the new, and with only a little effort, he slid them under the bed. There was just enough room beside the storage drawers he kept there. Cleaning out his small fridge took only a few minutes, and sorting through accumulated mail was also fast.

That left him with...nothing.

His job at Reddyflora had eaten up most of his time for over a year now. On the rare occasions when he was free, he liked to haunt resale stores—none of which were open this late—or catch a bite out. He wasn’t hungry now, however, even though he’d had nothing but a bagel, some fruit, a teeny bag of pretzels, and a few assorted Target munchies. He could binge-watch Project Runway or Stranger Things, since he was far behind on both of them. But that didn’t appeal to him either.

Books. He had some books on the Kindle his parents had given him for his last birthday. But his gaze skittered over the words, which might as well have been in Sanskrit for all