Chapter 11

11

DEREK

S he seemed so small in the cab of my truck, her hands folded in her lap as she leaned against the window. Her whole body seemed to have shrunk once the door was shut. I could see the fear and the hurt in her body language and wanted to make her feel safe as best I could, but this entire idea was probably the stupidest thing I had ever done. I was inviting a full-on stranger into my house, and not just that, but one that was clearly on the run from her own family.

Then I thought about my grandparents and how they would literally rise from the grave to whup my ass if I didn’t try to help. It was a calling card of theirs, to help people. They could be best described as aggressively charitable. Our whole lives they went out of their way to help others. Charities got regular donations, they operated a food drive during the winter months—hell, even a couple of the older employees had my grandparents cosign on home loans. One of them went underwater when I was much younger, and I remembered Grandpa just paying it off. It meant things were tight for a year or so, but he told us we were privileged to have what we had. We could help others.

I glanced to the side again and noticed how she seemed not to be paying any attention to where she was. Her eyes were glazed over as her head rocked slowly on the window, her forehead resting against it gently. The light glanced off her emerald-green eyes, but they looked like they saw nothing.

“Do you want some music?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m fine either way.”

She didn’t look fine. Her shoulders were hunched, and she pulled her legs together, her ankles crossed. If she could, she would probably have her knees on her chest and her feet on the seat. It was like she wanted to make herself as small as possible.

We pulled into the house, and Jodi seemed to come out of the spacy trance she was in. It was amazing to me that she wasn’t more concerned with where she was going. Whatever her brother represented must have been extremely threatening if she was willing to just go home with her boss. Either that, or she was an extremely good judge of character. I knew the implications of having a woman come home with me, especially one who was in such a bad place. A terrible person would take advantage of that. I wasn’t a terrible person. But how did she know that?

As was usually the case, I probably had Ally to thank for that. Still, I was on edge just a little to make sure I didn’t do or say anything that could be considered inappropriate. She was under enough stress—the last thing she needed was thinking I was some creeper.

I opened her door, and she stepped out, carrying her bags close to her. I reached out to take one, but she either didn’t see it or ignored me. I got the impression it may have been the latter, and as much as it might have offended me, I understood. They probably represented her entire world, those two bags. I wouldn’t let anyone else touch them either if I were her.

I guided her up the steps to the door and unlocked it. Ushering her in, I shut the door behind her and began to make my way across to the office, just down the hall on the right. She followed behind me a step or two back. The office had a clear door but blinds that twisted shut. I opened the door and gestured broadly to the inside.

“This is the office,” I said. “As you can see, I don’t do much in here.”

She stepped inside, her eyes roaming the space. It was mostly empty. There was a desk with a laptop on it that I couldn’t remember the last time I opened it. A lamp I picked up at an antique shop sat beside it, and then a couple of books sat off to the side. They were accompanied by two large bookshelves on either side, chock-full of books other than cookbooks. My cookbooks lived in the kitchen. Against the far wall was a twin bed that I kept in case one of my brothers needed a place to crash after a few too many beers.

“So,” I said, “my bedroom has a door to the office over here, but it locks from this side, so you can lock it up. There is a door over in that corner that leads to the master bathroom. You are welcome to use it if I’m not here, but there is another bathroom down the hall that is the main one, and you can have exclusive use of that while you’re here if you want.”

“Thank you, that’s very nice,” she said, still looking around, holding the bags tight.

“There are extra sheets in the linen closet in the bathroom. That cabinet there”—I pointed to a large cabinet on the wall under the bookshelves— “has comforters and pillows in it. I keep it kind of chilly in the house, so you might need them.”

“I don’t mind chilly. I’d rather be cold and curled up than hot and unable to get cool.”

“Same,” I said. “Now, I have to warn you, the bed is generally where Gandalf sleeps while I am working. So, you will want to keep this door shut.”

“Gandalf?”

“My Great Dane,” I said. “My buddy. He has a door to the backyard in my bedroom that he can go in and out at will, but when I’m gone, he often sleeps here. He will be fine though.”

As if on cue, Gandalf lumbered out of the bedroom door and made his way to the office door, which was still standing open. Jodi’s eyes went wide when she saw the towering figure walking toward her, and I laughed.

“This is Gandalf?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, petting his head. “He’s getting old. They usually live eight to ten years, and he’s nine and a half. But he still acts like a puppy once in a while. Usually early in the morning when it’s breakfast time.”

“He’s very sweet.” She reached out her hand and gingerly patted his head.

“He is. Very old for his breed and slow. He won’t bother you at all. Most of the time he lives in my room or the yard sleeping.”

“I love his little goatee,” she said, scratching under his chin.

I grinned, watching for a moment while she pet Gandalf and his grey-and-white tail began to wag.

“Set your stuff down. I’ll show you around the rest of the place,” I said.

She nodded, putting her bags on the bed and turning to me, a painted-on smile on her lips. I could tell she was nervous. It was like a first day at work kind of thing, only she was discovering where she would sleep rather than the desk she would work at. I couldn’t tell if she was happy or disappointed with her makeshift lodgings.

“If we go down this hall,” I said, leading her out of the office, “it leads to the living room. I usually pop the TV on while I cook since the floor plan opens to the kitchen over there, but if you want to watch something, it really doesn’t matter what’s on while I cook. I do most of my experimenting here.”

“You spend all day cooking at work and then come home and cook?” she asked.

“Not really. I have grilled cheese sandwiches a lot more than you would think.” I laughed. “But sometimes I come in here to experiment, or I get a wild hair about a dish I want to eat. If you want to cook something here, by all means, go for it. I throw too much food out that I buy and never make.”

“Thank you.” She seemed sheepish, like it was overwhelming her, but I thought it was important that she felt comfortable enough to walk around without thinking she was going somewhere she wasn’t allowed.

“No problem. Back there is a home gym. Again, free to use it if you want, it’s mostly weights and a treadmill. Over on that side of the living room is a closet and the laundry room. There’s a basement downstairs through that door in the kitchen, and I turned it into a cellar for vegetables. I’ve got some stuff growing under blacklights and stuff down there. Do you drink?”

It seemed like the question caught her off guard, but I’d rather ask than assume.

“Not often,” she said. “A glass of wine once in a while.”

“Well, working at a vineyard, you get your fill of wine,” I said. “I have a bunch of stuff down there in the cellar. There’s a wine cabinet with the stuff I’m saving, but anything else is fair game if you need to cook with it or just want a glass. A lot of it is stuff my brothers made. Blends from the vineyard. Some are really great, a couple of them are terrible. It’s a crapshoot.” I laughed, and she responded with a nervous laugh of her own.

“I think I am going to go change and get ready for bed,” Jodi said. I nodded.

“I’ll grab some extra towels for you.” I began to walk past her toward my linen closet when she grabbed my arm. I stopped and looked into her eyes, which were searching mine.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Why are you being so nice?”

I shrugged. “You need help. I am in a position to provide it. That’s it. It’s how my brothers and I were raised.”

She searched my eyes for a few more seconds, and the grip on my arm lessened. She nodded, and a slight smile curled one side of her ruby lips.

“Thank you, again,” she said. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Jodi made her way to the office, grabbing her bags and bringing them with her into the hall bathroom. I went into the closet, grabbed the extra linens and put them on the bed. Then, I reached into the cabinet and grabbed an extra comforter quickly before heading back into the kitchen. Gandalf was following me, ready for his supper which was already twenty minutes late.

I patted his head, grabbed his food, and filled his bowl, crouching down beside him as he began to tuck into it. I listened as Jodi made her way into the office and shut the door. The sound of the lock engaging on one door was followed closely by the other.

“What do you think, old boy?” I asked Gandalf. “Am I making the smart move?”

Gandalf seemed less interested in my problems than he was in his food.

“That’s what I thought,” I said.