I push off the frame, stalking into the room. I crouch in front of the shelf farthest away, the one that has some space when I move a few books around. “They aren’t full…yet.”
“So, you’re a big reader, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Have you always been?”
“No.” I push to my full height again. “I used to be absolute shit in school and could barely read for a long time. It wasn’t until Dean caught on to my lack of reading comprehension skills and named himself my official tutor that I got better at it. I’m still not the best reader, but it doesn’t hold me back like it used to.”
What I don’t tell her is I used to love it when my mom read to me, and it was my favorite thing in the world…until she left.
After, I didn’t give a shit about reading anymore, and it’s the reason I fell so far behind.
She stares up at me, and the surprise in her eyes is evident.
I’m not embarrassed by the fact that I struggled with reading, but it’s not something I talk about often either.
“What’s your favorite book?”
“It’s kind of a silly one.” I walk over to the shelf that has my favorites and pluck the book from among the others. “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. Sure, it’s a little juvenile, but it’s the first book I finished in one sitting.”
She takes the book from my hands, running her perfectly manicured fingers over the tattered front cover. There’s a smile tugging at her kissable lips.
“It’s not juvenile. It’s…sweet.” She giggles. “Which is kind of a funny word for you.”
“Because of the big, dumb welder thing?”
She rolls her eyes, then slips the book back into its spot.
Her hand lands on my chest, patting it twice, and I swear I feel her touch down to my fucking toes. “We’ll go with that.”
I glance down at where her hand rests on my chest, and her eyes follow the movement.
Like she’s only now realized she’s touching me, she withdraws her hand like she’s been holding it on top of a hot stove and takes my breath right with it.
If she heard, she gives no indication.
What kind of idiot gets riled up over a pat?
For fuck’s sake, I need to get laid or something.
Or get a damn grip.
I swallow, giving myself a mental shake, and clear my throat.
“I was thinking this could be your room,” I tell her. “I can move the chair to my bedroom so there’s enough room for a bed and whatever else you’ll need.”
“Because you don’t trust my kid in here around your books?”
I cringe when she says it aloud, and she barks out a laugh when my face crumples, caught.
“It’s fine. I understand. I wouldn’t trust him either. Like I said, he can be a shit sometimes.”
Relief floods me. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“So, three bedrooms—I assume that means two bathrooms?”
I nod, then point down the hallway. “End of the hall. Though I don’t ever use it for some reason, so I’ll have to hit the store to grab some supplies for in there.”
“You don’t need to do that,” she says. “I can get everything.”
I nod but have no intentions of letting that happen.
“You mentioned it would need to be a quick move-in. Did you have a date in mind?”
“Is Monday too soon? If so, I can figure something out. I have Thursdays off too. I need to vacate my apartment by the end of the month—though I suspect you already knew that.”
“Hey, I just show up on the jobsite and go where I’m told. That’s it.”
She laughs. “I’m teasing. But you have to admit this whole situation is rather comical. I mean, what are the odds?”
I think back to that first night in the bar.
I was going to bring her home with me. We know where the night was leading. We were ready for it.
Then everything blew up.
“It’s an…interesting situation, that’s for sure.”
She tucks her hands into her back pockets, then rocks back on her heels. “So…are we going to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” I ask, playing dumb.
“The fact that I was going to go home with you that Friday night. I’m going to be living with you, so we should probably discuss it at some point.”
I hoped we’d pretend it never happened, but…
“But you didn’t. There’s nothing to discuss. No harm, no foul. Just a…missed connection.”
She tilts her head again, and I’ve learned she does that when she’s trying to figure me