Chapter Eleven
Rory
“This isn’t exactly what I thought Army housing looked like,” Damien said as he poked around my quarters. “It’s a lot more like an apartment than I expected.”
“Yeah, these units are pretty nice compared to where they put the new guys. Having my own bathroom is great,” I said.
Damien looked around the kitchenette. “Have you considered getting an apartment off base?”
“I hadn’t until recently,” I said.
“Well, if you do, I’ll make sure that you have much nicer appliances,” he said as he pulled on the refrigerator handle.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“Oh, but I do. You saved my life. You deserve much more than a Viking stove, but at least I can give you that,” Damien said. “Plus, whatever else you want. I don’t want to assume that a nice kitchen is your priority.”
The funny thing was he didn’t seem to be showing off at all. Being generous appeared to be second nature for Damien.
“That’s very sweet of you,” I said. He was saying thank you in his own way and it seemed rude to turn that down. I didn’t know exactly how much Raoult Industries was worth, but I knew it was enough that his gestures were a drop in the bucket financially. My Alpha nature wanted no part of taking expensive gifts from an Omega but sometimes you had to tell your brute side to sit down and shut up.
“In fact, why don’t I outfit the entire apartment? You wouldn’t have any housewares and furnishings because you live on base. My assistant, Basil, can take care of all of it,” he said and then thought for a moment. “Unless you’d want some help choosing things. I’ve got decent taste.”
“Are you saying I don’t?” I teased.
“Well, you seem to like me. I think that just about proves you have terrible taste. Or you’re entirely too trusting.”
“I think you’re a much better person than you give yourself credit for, Damien.” I could have sworn I saw him blush a little.
“I think we should go apartment-shopping today,” Damien said. “You are my hero, and you need to be living somewhere much nicer, stat.”
“You want to go look at apartments?” I asked.
“Were you doing anything else today?” Damien asked. “I’d just feel a lot better if we had that sorted out before...”
I knew what he was going to say. He wanted it sorted out before he left. The truth was, I didn’t want him to leave either.
“Alright,” I said. “Where should we start?”
“Well, was there anywhere you’ve thought about moving.”
There was one place, but it wasn’t an apartment. It was also way too big for one person. I had the money for a down payment, and I could afford the monthly payments too, but I’d always thought it was too much for just me.
“What?” Damien asked. “What are you thinking about.”
“There is a place, but it’s not an apartment. It’s also entirely too much for one person.”
“Rory, if you’d seen my apartment, you’d see a place that is truly too much for one person. Come on. Tell me about this place,” Damien said.
“I should just show you. Do you want to go for a drive?”
We stood outside of the long-neglected Victorian that had been the grand jewel of the neighborhood at one time. It just needed some love.
And elbow grease.
“Should we go inside? Would you like to take a look around?” I asked.
“Do we need to call the agent first or something?”
“No. I know the guy who is selling it. I come by here once a month to check on the place. I have a key.”
“So, you love this place and you take care of it for the owner for free? But you won’t buy it?”
“Like I said, it’s always seemed like it’s too much for one person. It would be a fun project, though. The old lady needs a lot of cosmetic work. Her bones are good, though. I’ve already done a lot of work to the plumbing and electrical systems,” I said as we walked through the front door.
“You did all that without charging the owner on a house you weren’t going to buy?”
“It was fun, and it kept me occupied when my friends were out partying first and then later getting married and having babies.”
“You really are something else,” Damien said with a chuckle.
“I hear that a lot.”