Page 9 of Rogue
“Bedroom’s back here.”
I followed him.The hall smelled of motor oil and cedar.The cedar came from a closet he opened to show me the towels.The motor oil was from him -- his clothes, a life of hands on work.He pushed open a door on the right.
The bedroom was spare.A bed, made -- and made well, with military corners.A dresser with nothing on it but a wristwatch and a dish for change.A chair in the corner.
“Yours,” he said.
I stood in the doorway.“There’s only one bedroom?”
“Other one isn’t set up for company right now.I’ll take the couch.”
I braced for the catch.For the moment the kindness would thin and reveal the hook underneath.I’d been waiting for it since he’d said get on at the gas station, since his hand had covered mine on the bike, since he’d settled his cut on my shoulders.Kindness from men like my father always had a cost, a debt I was expected to pay.I stood in his doorway waiting for him to name it.He didn’t.
He went down the hall to the kitchen.
I heard the cabinet, the tap, the sound of him setting one glass on the counter.I came down the hall after him, slowly, holding the cut closed at my chest because my body didn’t know how to walk without holding something.
The glass stayed untouched in his hand.I picked mine up.The glass was cold.
“Why?”It came out smaller than I wanted.I made myself meet his gaze.“The cut.The house.Why any of this?”
He took a swallow of his water.He set the glass on the counter behind him without looking, and his hand found the counter like it had done it a thousand times.That small competence of a man in his own kitchen pressed against the inside of my sternum like a thumb.
“Two reasons.”He held up one finger.“Those SUVs out on the highway don’t stop at our gate unless they see something at our gate worth stopping for.A woman they can describe to a cop, sitting on a porch -- that’s something worth stopping for.A woman in my house, wearing my cut?That’s the club telling them she’s ours, and what they want with her runs through us first.They’ve been in this part of the country long enough today to ask who we are.They’ll have an answer by now.”
He held up a second finger.“And I’m not putting you in a guest cottage with that man’s people two miles up the road.Not tonight.Things are different now than they were yesterday.”He let his hand drop.“That’s the why.”
Condensation gathered against my fingers while I stood there.The leather of the cut had begun to smell a little like me beneath the smell of him -- the laundry soap from the borrowed shirt, the faint perfume of the bridal suite not quite washed out of my hair.
I tightened my fingers on the lapel.The cut stayed wrapped around me.
After a while he pushed off the wall, crossed to the lamp by the couch, and turned off the overhead.The room softened into the yellow glow of the one lamp and the sunlight through the window.Then he sat down on the couch.
He didn’t take his boots off.
He lay back against the arm of the couch, one boot on the floor, one stretched along the cushion, folded his hands across his stomach.He didn’t press me to come sit, or to do anything at all.Just gave me the time to figure things out on my own.I took a seat not too far from him and eyed the remote on the table.He noticed the direction of my gaze and picked up the remote, then clicked on the TV.
“I’m guessing you’re not big into action movies,” he said.
“Depends.Some of my favorite movies areJurassic Park, Jurassic World, Here Comes the Boom, andDiary of an International Assassin.But I also like animated movies, musicals, and romances.”I shrugged.“Other than super gory stuff, like thoseHostelmovies, I’ll watch just about anything.”
His lips twitched in a near smile.“Noted.Then let’s see what we can find.”
He skimmed through the movie options and finally settled on one I’d watched quite a few times --Top Gun.
“You seem like the type who’d enjoy watching these fly boys.”
“If you’re asking if I’ve seen the movie, then yes.And I do enjoy it.Although, I much prefer the scenes where they’re actually flying.”I knew most people had thought Maverick was the best character in the movie, but I’d always preferred Ice Man.
“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant that in a good way or not.Rogue was… unusual.I didn’t know what to make of him, but he’d been kind to me, and that was more than I could say for most of the men I’d ever known.For once, I’d met someone who didn’t seem to expect anything from me.It felt odd, and good at the same time.
I settled in to watch the movie and wondered where on earth my life was heading now.
Chapter Four
Lennox
