Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

“So what is it that you do, exactly?” asked Tent Man as he went through his red bag, looking for something. I noticed how all of his clothes looked clean and were neatly rolled.

“I’m in the insurance business. The name is Meri Winters, by the way. And you?”

“Beau Starling.”

“Beau the hobo. Cute.” I smiled.

He flashed an annoyed look.

“So, what did you do before this?” I asked.

“You mean before I decided to live like I do now?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

I frowned and wiggled my lips, hesitating to get nosy but unable to resist. “How long have you been living on the streets?”

“I live in a tent , and you said you wouldn’t pry.”

“Okay. You’re right. I’ll butt out.” But really, my curiosity had dialed up to ten. Every answer he gave convinced me there was a big whopper of a story hiding inside him.

“Thank you.” He looked out the window behind the couch, checking for whoever was coming to deliver this mystery package.

“I was about to have some soup for dinner. Would you care to join me?” I asked.

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry. Buying something at the gas station down the street is a requirement to use their facilities. I end up snacking all day.”

So he didn’t poop in a paper bag. Good to know.

His eyes moved around my living room, taking in the various displays in each corner. “You really like Christmas, don’t you?”

I was about to proudly gush over my fanaticism but held back. I was beginning to realize that not everyone shared my sickness: Santa fever.

“I do,” I said, leaving it at that.

“Did you make all of these decorations yourself?” He pointed to my appetizer tree and then to the enormous snowman with an ice machine built into his belly. It wasn’t a big machine, but it had been a fun project, creating an enormous paper maché snowman with a little table inside. If you wanted ice, you just lifted his red scarf and reached inside his tummy to the ice container. I’d added blue lights inside, too, for Arctic flair.

“Yeah. It’s sort of my thing,” I said.

“I like it.”

I pushed back a big grin. “It’s no big deal.”

He turned in place, taking in the lights attached to the ceiling. They weren’t plugged in at the moment, but I’d sequenced them to look like runways.

I added, “I need to fix the motor for my miniature Santa and sleigh, but when it’s plugged in, they run on a small cable so Santa can travel around the ceiling. It’s for a party I throw each year.”

We stared at each other for an awkward moment, and I suddenly felt intensely aware of his presence. His tall frame and muscular build took up space like any large man would, but the energy in the room felt different. Warmer maybe?

Maybe it’s just me. I’d bet my dancing-elf vibrator that my cheeks were flushed right now.

“Okay, well, I’m going to get cracking on work. There’s the candy for passing out.” I pointed to two grocery bags by the door and a bright orange bucket. “There’s a fold-out chair in the hall closet so you can sit by the mailboxes out front. Just be sure to remind the kids not to revenge-raisin the place.”

“Got it.” He glanced at the bathroom.

“Oh, uh, make yourself at home. I’ll just be in the kitchen on my laptop.” I liked working in there for the light. Also, the mint green tile and red appliances gave it a cheery holiday vibe.

“The Y didn’t have hot water this morning. Would you mind if I showered?”

My discomfort spiked. It was one thing to let him crash on my couch or use the toilet, but showers were kind of personal. He’d see my lady razor, touch my soap, and judge my shampoo choices—sugar cookies and cream was my favorite at this time of year. I got it from a shop down the street.

“If it’s too uncomfortable, I understand,” he added.

“No, go right ahead. There are cleaning supplies under the bathroom sink. I mean, in case you feel like bleaching the tub when you’re done. Or before you shower. Either-or. Or both. I mean, can’t be too careful when it comes to hygiene.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it. Also, do you have pen and a paper? I’m going to leave a note in the alley; just in case my delivery comes, they’ll know where I am.”

“Sure. I’ll go get them.”

As I spoke, he pulled out a bright red sweater from his bag. It was a gorgeous, handmade piece from the Wild Winterland Clothing Store. They cost over five hundred dollars. Mostly because they used organic, hand-dyed cotton yarn. The quality was so good that some people claimed to have inherited their sweaters from family members, decades old. The question was, how could he afford one?

“You have a Winterland,” I said. “Any Rolexes in there, too?”

He gave me a side glance. “No. And the sweater was a gift from my mother.”

“Well, she has great taste.”

“Had.”

My heart twitched with sadness. “I’m sorry. I bet you miss her.”

He nodded and disappeared into the bathroom with a handful of stuff.

I exhaled. “What am I doing?” I’d invited this stranger into my home, and clearly I was unable to stop myself from prying. The last thing I needed was to get vested in his life. I had my own things to take care of.

Well, thankfully, he’d be out by morning.

I didn’t see Beau after his shower, but I’d heard him go out the door, so I assumed he’d found the paper and pen I’d left on the coffee table before he went to pay for his keep.

Honestly, I was kind of bummed out having to work on Halloween, because seeing the kids’ costumes was the best, almost as fun as watching my nieces and nephews open gifts on Christmas morning. Usually on Christmas Eve, I drove to my parents’ house, and I’d stay for a week as friends I grew up with and family would pop in and out for visits. After my big party, which I usually held a few days before Christmas, going to their place to hang out and enjoy some nature, along with seeing people I missed, was a welcome time. I just had to put up with my mom’s nagging: You should go to church more often. Why aren’t you married yet? Have you seen my new Brazilian Jesus?

Around 9:20 p.m., I heard the front door open, followed by heavy footsteps.

“How was the candy giving?” I called out.

Suddenly, a tall man appeared in the kitchen doorway. He had on a forest green ski cap, a black parka, jeans, and perfectly shined black boots.

I screamed. “Who the fuck are you? What do you want? I don’t have any money.”

He stared, confused.

That was when I noticed him holding my empty candy bucket. He was also wearing Beau’s red sweater beneath the parka.

I blinked at the clean-shaved man with crisp-blue eyes and incredible bone structure. He had thick black lashes and slightly arched black brows. “Beau?”

“Does the beard really make me look that different?” He rubbed his smooth, square jaw.

“Errr…yeah.” Who knew the man had a face underneath all that hair? He even had lips. Nice plump ones.

Not that I was interested. I liked a man who lived indoors. Then again, I had dated a few men with nice homes but lived like disgusting farm animals.

“I really didn’t recognize you. I mean, obviously.” I’d just screamed bloody murder.

“I didn’t want to scare the little ones,” Beau said. “The bushy caveman beard can be intimidating.”

Not to me, but I supposed to a tiny child, the wild facial hair might make Beau look a little grizzly bearish. “That was thoughtful.”

“And I made sure to clean up the bathroom and sanitize anything I touched, in case you were worried.”

Actually, I’d already used the bathroom and had completely forgotten he’d been in there. Not a hair. Not a nasty anything left behind. “Thanks.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll get some sleep.” He peeled off his parka and removed his hat.

Wow. He looked like a normal, hot, functional man. No one would guess where I’d met him.

“I left you a pillow and blankets on the couch.”

“You still working?” he asked.

“Yeah, just a few more hours. It’s just a lot of t-crossing and i-dotting for some big housing development in Texas. Five hundred homes, sewers, gas lines, you know.”

“That’s interesting.”

Nope . It was as boring as hell. I took the job because it paid well, but it didn’t feed my soul. Maybe that was why I got into the holidays so much. “Yeah, the builder carries a lot of risk until the project’s done and the homes are all sold. Even then, there can be issues if something wasn’t built right. It’s big business, but big risk, too.”

“I don’t miss it at all,” he muttered.

“Miss what?”

“The stress of work. The late nights. The missing out on life.”

Ooh… So he’d once had a busy, stressful life. Lawyer? Doctor? Veterinarian? Please let it be that last one. Vets are sexy. “I thought you said you didn’t do anything in your pre-hobo life.”

“I said I did nothing worth noting. Good night.”

What a party pooper. He’d sprinkled breadcrumbs that left me even hungrier for more info and then slammed the door in my face. “Night. Oh, and I’ll pick you up a new tent tomorrow after work. The store is just down the street from my office.”

“No need. I can handle it on my own.”

“You sure? It’s no big deal.” Also, good winter-proof tents were expensive.

“I do not need your help.” He disappeared into the living room. “But thank you.”

At least this time, he hadn’t added the fuck-you tone to his refusal.

I finished my work and then got everything ready for the morning. Coffee, sugar, cereal, bowls, mugs, and silverware. I then realized I had to leave early. What if he wasn’t up yet? I’d have to kick him out. Awkward.

I’d just deal with it in the morning.

I tiptoed through the living room, catching the silhouette of my guest’s handsome sleeping face. I stared for a moment, thinking about everything my friends had been saying over the last few weeks—the stuff about me being a people pleaser or too self-conscious.

I certainly didn’t feel that way around Beau. I was okay if he wasn’t pleased or unhappy. I didn’t feel the need to impress him or gush about my Christmas addiction. He wasn’t even grateful for my hospitality, and I was okay with it.

Honestly, I kind of just enjoyed helping the man. Even if it was only a warm couch for one night. He seemed like the type who was up against something difficult.

The next morning, when I got up for work, Beau was already gone. The blankets were folded neatly, he’d hand-washed a glass he’d used, and he’d left a note:

Meri,

Left you breakfast in the refrigerator. Payment for the night’s stay. I also fixed your motor.

– Beau

I looked up at the ceiling and noticed he’d attached the Santa and sleigh to the cable, too. I then went to the kitchen. Inside the fridge was a stack of chocolate chip pancakes, a bowl of fresh strawberries, and some orange juice.

The weird part was, these weren’t my groceries. He’d gone out and bought food. And then prepared everything while I slept. The dishes were done and put away too.

What kind of hobo is this?