hands and relented. “Okay, no worries. See you around.”
As I turned to leave, I heard a frustrated sigh. “Hang on,” he called.
Hesitantly, I turned back to him and waited.
“I’m sorry. I’m no good with people these days.” There was remorse in his voice, and it made my pulse stammer.
I looked at the ground, toeing a loose stone with my Sketchers. “It’s okay. All this must be a big change for you.”
He nodded, his brown eyes studying me a moment before glancing over my shoulder. “Here’s a taxi.” Holding a hand out, he flagged it down, and it pulled to a stop. He didn’t say a word as we both climbed inside, but I could tell he felt bad for snapping at me. Sharing the cab he’d previously refused must have been his way of apologising without words.
We began our journey in quiet, and I was suddenly floundering for conversation, perhaps because Damon felt so imposing. He was Hollywood handsome, but rough around the edges. He was also very large, looming almost, and he seemed uncomfortable with his size. I kept glancing at the thigh that was closest to me, noticing he held it rigid so it wouldn’t invade my personal space or knock against mine.
When I pulled out my phone to check my messages, I began to sense him looking at me. Trying to ignore his stare, I scrolled through some old texts, pretending they were new. When I couldn’t take much more, I chanced a peek at him. He was blatantly staring, but not in a cocky or creepy way, more in the way a child stares at something new and unusual.
“What?” I asked, self-consciously tucking some hair behind my ear.
Damon shook his head but didn’t turn away. “Pardon?”
“Why are you staring at me?”
It took him several beats to answer. “You’ve got a kind face.” He sounded surprised, like kindness from a stranger was the last thing he’d expected when he got to London.
“Oh,” I breathed, my lungs filling. “Well…thanks.”
At long last Damon cast his gaze out the window, and I felt a tingling sensation just below the surface of my skin. When the cabbie stopped outside the house he was staying in, Damon seemed hesitant to get out. We both spoke at the same time.
“Looks like a nice place.”
“Come in with me.”
Something about his request made my heart skip a beat, but he obviously didn’t mean it in that way. “What?”
“You seem good with people. I’m not. There’s going to be someone in there looking to show me around, and I don’t want to deal with them.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “So, you want me to deal with them for you?”
“Please,” he said, his tone begging me not to make a fuss.
I looked at the driver, who seemed just as perplexed by the situation as I was. However, there was something about Damon Atwood that I couldn’t bring myself to say no to, so I shrugged and nodded.
“Okay, let’s go.”
Damon exhaled and shot me a grateful look. Then he shoved a fifty through the pay slot – way too much for the journey we’d taken – and hurried outside with his luggage. I followed him to the gate. It really was a very nice house, refurbished Edwardian with a bright red door.
Damon lifted the knocker, and a moment later it flew open, a young, eager-looking man welcoming us in. He was from the letting agents. Damon stepped right past him, walked upstairs, and shut himself inside the bathroom.
Weird.
I, on the other hand, was left to deal with the aftermath.
“Is Mr Atwood quite well?” the young man asked.
“He had a bit of a dodgy curry for lunch. He’s not feeling the best,” I lied, and he seemed relieved that he hadn’t somehow inadvertently offended a client. I let him go through the motions as he showed me where everything was and how the central heating worked, etc. By the time he left, Damon was still in the bathroom. I hesitantly went upstairs and gently knocked.
The door opened slowly, and Damon peeked his head out, asking, “Is he gone?”
“Yes.”
He exhaled in relief, and I cocked a questioning brow at him. He seemed hesitant to explain. “City types stress me out. Thanks for…well, just thanks.”
“It was no problem,” I replied, not mentioning the fact that I myself was a city type. Thrusting forward an envelope and two sets of keys, I said, “These are for you.”
Damon accepted them without question, and I turned to leave. “Wait,” he called, almost desperately.