Chapter 3
From my vantage point on the stairs, I could see Jackson sitting at the island. His glance up to me was brief but I immediately felt self-conscious in my jeans and t-shirt. To compensate, I bustled into the kitchen, and asked in a bright voice, “What would you like for breakfast?”
“You don’t have to bother.” His voice was low.
“It’s no bother,” I pulled a pan out of a drawer. “Omelette?”
“Anything is fine.”
I was completely unnerved in his presence. My kitchen was huge, but when he watched me, I felt like there wasn’t room to breathe. I did my best to ignore him and started to cook. I wracked my brain to think of something to say but I came up blank. So I just concentrated on what I was doing.
“Do you want some coffee?”
Did my voice sound breathless? I took a few calming breaths.
“Sure.”
I looked over my shoulder. “I can do a cappuccino or a latte and Matt has some coffee syrups.”
He didn’t answer me so I walked over to the espresso machine and started reading off the labels. “He has Bourbon Caramel, Brown Sugar Cinnamon, Mojito Mint and Sweet Heat.”
A long pause hung between us, and finally he asked, “What’s Sweet Heat?”
“I’m not sure,” I picked up the bottle and read out loud, “fiery heat of ghost peppers with the sweetness of pure cane sugar.”
More silence. I glanced over my shoulder. He had no expression. “Just a coffee.”
“So an Americano?”
He gave a short nod.
I made him a coffee which he took black. Of course he did. Then I slid fruit and an omelette in front of him.
“Where is your plate?”
I set a bowl of fruit down. “I’m not much of a breakfast eater.”
He waited until I was seated before he picked up his fork.
We ate in silence. I studied him through my eyelashes. “So where are you visiting from?”
“Virginia.”
I wasn’t used to a man giving me so little to work with during a conversation. “Are you just up for a visit?”
“I’m doing a three month outpatient program at the hospital.”
I swallowed and eyed him. There didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him.
“I hope everything is okay.”
He didn’t respond. He obviously didn’t want to talk about it.
“That means you will be here for our wedding.”
Green eyes flickered up at me for a fraction of a second and then dropped to the ring on my left hand. “Matt didn’t tell me he was engaged.”
I could not reconcile Matt telling this man anything about our lives, much less being friends with him. Matt’s friends were smooth and eloquent. They liked to talk about fine wines and the Met. Jackson’s silence made him unique. He was like no one I had ever met.
He stood up and picked up his plate.
“I’ll do those,” I said.
He ignored me. He started to load the dishwasher. He picked up the fry pan. “Dishwasher?”
“You can put that in the sink. I’ll get that later.”
I watched in bemusement as he ran the water and then found the soap from beneath the sink. He washed the pan and the three other items in the sink, before picking up a dishtowel and drying them off. He started to wipe the length of my countertops. I had never seen Matt willingly volunteer to help with dishes. This guy, who looked like he could kill with his bare hands, was quietly tidying up. Nothing about this made sense.
“Thank you.”
He nodded and looked towards the door. I knew without him saying a word, that he was going to leave. I stood up. “Why don’t I show you your room?”
He turned his attention on me. Again I couldn’t read the expression on his face.
“I mean it. I’m not letting you leave here,” I said.
“I don’t want to put you out.”
I stood up. He was a giant next to me. “If you leave, Matt is going to ask me why. And I really don’t want to have that conversation.”
The best I got from him was a nod.
I watched as he grabbed his duffle bag and then I was leading him up the steps. I was nervous, and when I get nervous I babble.
“This is Matt’s room. This is my room. Both our rooms have bathrooms. This is the laundry room. Please help yourself. I’m sorry, but your room doesn’t have a bathroom attached. There is one in the hall here. And this will be your room.”
I pushed open the door and shut my eyes in shame. There was a partially deflated air mattress lying on the ground, an old dresser and a vacuum cleaner in the middle of the room. His eyes looked around the room. “This is fine.”
“Ha,” I said, my face red. “Obviously, I'll get a bed in here.”
“I don’t need a bed. I can sleep anywhere.”
“Well, you can’t sleep on hardwood.”
“This is fine.”
My eyebrows went up.
“I think I can do better than that.”
If I had to drag my own bed into this room, I would make sure there was a bed in this room before the end of the day.
“You two have separate rooms,” he said. I felt my face burst into heat. The first comment he volunteered in over an hour was about my sex life?
I lifted my chin a notch. “I’m saving myself for marriage.”
“People still do that?”
I forced myself to lift my eyes up and meet his gaze. There was an expression of faint curiosity on his face. So Mr. Stone Face actually had some sort of emotion within him. “You seem surprised.”
“Why.”
“Why what?”
“Why are you saving yourself?”
My mouth gaped open. No one ever was this blunt. Especially about something so delicate. I could give him a pat answer but I decided to be honest.
“It wasn’t a conscious choice. It just sort of happened.”
My face was so hot.
“Are you religious?”
“Not particularly.”
“How long have you and Matt been together?”
“About a year.”
He stood there staring at me.
“Okay,” I said. My voice firm. “I’ll let you unpack.”
I pushed the vacuum cleaner towards the door.
“I don’t think something like that just happens.”
I went completely still. “Excuse me?”
“It’s definitely a choice.”
My face was so hot. I glanced over my shoulder at him. A slow smile crossed his face. Good grief. That smile changed his whole face. He was stunning looking. Magnificent, actually. Something dark fluttered in my belly. My breath was hitched in my throat. I worked to yank my gaze away from his.
I made some sort of noise and then beelined to my bedroom. I was out of breath. One smile and my entire body tingled. Jesus. Who was this guy?
From my bedroom, I called Matt. No answer.
I texted him.
Me: Your friend Jackson arrived. You invited him to stay here?
No response. Well that was just perfect. So typical of Matt to drop a bomb and pull a disappearing act. I put my hands in my face. My reaction to the stranger in the room next to me was just a fall out response to the stress of this morning. I had an inordinate fear of home invasions. This morning probably was triggering a whole lot of repressed fear.
I sucked in a big breath and tried to remember what my therapist used to tell me.
I needed to focus on the now.
And that involved figuring out how to get a bed into the guest room. I took my iPad and walked downstairs. My mysterious guest was not in sight. I started making phone calls. Apparently, beds are not bought and delivered on the same day. They tend to take a couple weeks to be delivered. I found one factory warehouse store that did have new mattresses and frames ready to go, but I would need to pick up the bed myself. Renting a truck would not be an issue. Driving a truck in the city was. Anything bigger than my mini and I was in danger of side-swiping other cars. Not to mention I had no idea how would I unload a bed and drag it upstairs. Maybe we could unload it off the truck in the garage downstairs and Matt and Jackson could bring it up tonight.
***
I sensed Jackson coming down the stairs behind me.
“Do you know how to drive a truck?”
I twisted in my seat to look at him.
“I have a truck. What do you need?”
“I need to pick up your bed.”
“From where?”
“The store.”
A beat passed. “I don’t have to stay here. Emily.”
My stupid heart fluttered at the sound of him saying my name. He was right. He didn’t have to stay here. In fact it didn’t make any sense that this stranger whom I never had met, would suddenly be staying here. At one time he might have been Matt’s friend, but now they were not close. Matt had barely mentioned him in the entire time I knew Matt. I had no idea what had possessed Matt to invite Jackson here.
But for reasons I could not explain, I felt compelled to make him stay. Perhaps it was the sense that he was hell bent on leaving. I got the distinct impression he despised imposing. Especially on strangers. The man seemed resolute on being self-contained. He was not some freeloader who walked into a place and made himself at home. He didn’t want to be here and that made me want to make him stay. I couldn’t explain why I wanted to make him comfortable and to feel at home.
I looked up at him. “Why don’t you want to stay here?”
Green eyes squinted at me. He splayed his big hands out wide to stretch and then relaxed them. “Let’s go.”
I grabbed my bag and then headed downstairs. His truck was big and black. And looked entirely like the kind of vehicle this man would drive. I felt totally awkward about getting into the same vehicle as him. We might actually have to talk.
“So, I’ll meet you there,” I said, scrolling through my phone. I gave him the address without looking up at him. It was a cowardly act, but he didn’t see bothered by the fact that I wanted to take two cars. He just nodded and then he was backing out of the driveway.