Truly, Madly, Like Me - Jo Watson Page 0,61

fireplace. Mark walked across the room to a sofa under a window and gently placed Harun down on it.

I inspected the place some more. It was a strange mix of old and new furniture. A huge, modern flat-screen TV took up a massive space on one wall—obviously it was just for movie watching—and on the opposite wall a shelf covered in old books and antiques.

I could only see three doors leading off this room, so I walked around and peered into each one. A small kitchen with a little wooden table and chair. An old bathroom, stone walls, bright blue painted ball-and-claw bath, and in the other room, a small bedroom. I swallowed.

“Uh . . . where would I sleep?” I asked.

“You can sleep in my room,” he said.

“Where would you sleep?”

“I sleep outside on the veranda when it’s warm.”

“Oh. Okay.” I looked around, feeling very strange all of a sudden. I rubbed my arm.

“Look, if you would feel more comfortable, you can go back to the hotel and I’m more than happy to look after Harun for a few days while he recovers.”

“No. It’s okay. I think . . .”

“I’m not a serial killer, by the way.”

“I didn’t think you were. You don’t look like one.”

He was smiling now. “Isn’t that what everyone says when they catch one? ‘But he didn’t look like a serial killer.’ ”

“So are you saying you are a serial killer?” I asked, a little amused.

He waggled his eyebrows. “I could be.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” I said after studying him a little longer.

“Well, thanks.”

“Pleasure.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” His smile broadened, as if I was amusing him greatly.

“You should. Not being a serial killer is a really good thing, or so I’ve heard.” I smiled back at him.

He nodded. “I reckon not being a serial killer is actually kind of an essential human quality. Don’t you think?” he asked and I laughed and ran my eyes over him. Mark was funny and nerdy. It was a good combination, not that I was under his magical spell or anything. Far from it. But I was certainly starting to see the Mark appeal.

Mark looked over at Harun. “You think he needs anything?”

“Maybe a bowl of water. Samirah said he probably wouldn’t be too hungry today. We should just keep him comfortable and hydrated and make sure we give him his painkillers.”

He nodded and walked into the kitchen. I followed behind him and looked around. The kitchen was amazing. It looked like it had been restored perfectly.

“Did you do all this?” I asked, looking at the bright yellow painted shelves and the old Granny Mazawati tea tins that lined them, as if they’d been collected.

He looked around. “I like to collect things,” he replied a little sheepishly.

“I can see that,” I said, also noting a collection of old tin cups in bright colors hanging from the walls. “How long have you lived here?”

He reached for a bowl, filled it to the brim with water and then walked back into the lounge and placed it next to Harun.

“Four years.”

“WOW! Four years. No internet.”

“But look what else I have here.” He walked onto the veranda and flopped down on the comfy-looking daybed outside.

I stood on the veranda and gazed out over the strange, desolate landscape. It was so still, and the air seemed to throb and pulse with heat, even though it was meant to be autumn. My clothes felt sticky on my skin and I could see little perspiration dots breaking their way through the surface, leaving rather unsightly marks on my clothes. I took my shirt between my fingers and flapped it back and forth, trying to get the air to circulate. Otherwise I might soon have unsightly underboob sweat marks.

“You get used to the weather here,” Mark said, looking up at me.

“Do you?”

“Eventually,” he said with a smile. “I’ve taken to sleeping naked outside when it’s hot like this.”

I flashed him a look.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my pants on when you’re here.” He said this with a smirk. Ever so slightly naughty, and I couldn’t help blushing at the innuendo, whether it had been intentional or not.

“Uh . . . thanks.” Suddenly images of a pantless Mark flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t help wonder what it all looked like. I indulged this thought for a while until . . .

“You okay?” Mark suddenly asked.

“Huh? What?” I jumped in fright.

“You looked like you were deep in thought there?”

“Oh, no! Nothing! Just . . .