Chapter 10

Ilooked around Ava's studio apartment. From where I sat on the bed, I could see the closet in one corner and the kitchenette in the other. The door to the bathroom was planted in the middle of one wall, next to a set of stairs that ran up to the apartment entrance. It must have been the tiniest of tiny basement apartments.

"Where did you find this place?" I asked.

Ava looked up from her closet, smiling. "A friend of my mom."

"Did you really think we were both going to fit in here?"

She pulled a green dress out and held it up to her chest. "What about this one?"

"Is this a date?"

"It's just a dinner, but he might be there." She shook the fabric. "What do you think?"

"It's nice," I said. "Are you sure you want to get back together with him? Have you thought this through?"

"No," she laughed, throwing the hanger onto the bed. She took the dress into the bathroom and closed the door. A moment later, she was out, twirling around the kitchenette to model.

She really did look fantastic. "It looks great," I said.

Ava's shoulders fell. "I feel like you're not really in the moment."

"I'm sorry."

"What's wrong?" She sat down beside me.

"You know what's wrong," I said.

"Oh." She looked down at her nails. "Tell me about lunch yesterday."

I nodded. "We talked."

"About?"

"About the cabin." I drew in a breath.

"And?"

I didn't want to tell her. If I said it out loud, it would make it true, and I still held on to hope that somehow, Jason would decide he didn't want the cabin. Maybe his old boss from Nashville would call and offer him a raise. Maybe he would discover a sudden passion for goat farming and decide to move to Tuscany. I still had a couple of days before he moved in, and my mind was working overtime, trying to figure out a solution. I looked into Ava's hopeful eyes and had to admit the truth.

"I decided to stay in the cabin…with him," I said.

"Ohh!" She clapped her hands, way too excited over the prospect of me sharing my living space.

"I just don't have any better options. I can't afford a two bedroom, and I can't move in here," I moaned. "I've been over and over my options for the past several days, and I still couldn't see any way out."

"Let's look at the bright side," Ava said, her eyes sparkling. "At least he's hot."

I rolled my eyes.

"Maybe you guys could hook up," Ava gasped, as if discovering the answer to life's problems.

"No." I shook my head.

"Come on." Ava put her hands down on mine. "Just imagine, you go to brush your teeth, and he's accidentally in the shower."

"Ava, I can't." I pulled my hand away. "He's gonna be my landlord."

"Technically," Ava argued.

"I can't sleep with my landlord."

"Not even if he's hot?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Maybe he'll give you a discount on rent." Ava winked.

"No," I reiterated, putting the matter to bed.

"Okay, if we're not going to talk about you, can we talk about me?" Ava jumped up again to look in the mirror. "Does this dress say ‘casually dressed up for a night with friends' or ‘desperate to reconnect'?"

I grinned. "It's beautiful. You should wear it."

She looked at me and sighed. "Cheer up. There are worse things than sharing your home with a handsome man."

"I thought we were talking about you now." I dodged the advice. There was no way I was going to cheer up thinking about Jason. He could take his rugged good looks and go back where he came from. I didn't need him in my life, and I definitely didn't need him in my home. I forced myself to focus on Ava and her upcoming dinner for as long as I could stand it. After more than an hour of watching her change clothes, I excused myself and went back to the cabin.

The living room was lovingly filled with my furniture. I remembered how long it had taken to get everything just right. The sofa and love seat were arranged specifically so I could sit in front of the fire or look out the window and enjoy a view of the trees while sipping my coffee. The spider plant had found its home in a twine hanger by the door. The coffee table and end tables added space for décor but weren't intrusive or cluttered. I would probably have to move all of this to make way for his manly man furniture.

I shuddered. He was a single guy. This probably meant he'd place a recliner and maybe a dartboard or a pool table in here. Who knew what monstrosities he would want to stuff our cabin with? I was so upset, I didn't even notice that I had subconsciously begun to think of it as "our cabin," not "my cabin."

I sighed. I had to face facts. Wishing that something would come along to magically turn events in my favor wasn't going to work. He was moving in, and I had to get ready, which meant putting most of my stuff in storage.

There was only one storage place in town, and the owner was a client of mine. I decided to pay her a visit and see if I could get a discount. After work the next day, I drove the ten minutes out of town to the sprawling city of green-roofed storage sheds.

I climbed out of my car and felt a sinking in my stomach as I recognized the only other car in the parking lot. It was his. The door to the management office was open, and I could hear voices within. What was he doing here? Did he have things in storage? Was he following me? That last panicky question was absurd, I told myself. He had gotten here before me. He must have some business with the storage folks.

I heard the office door swing shut and looked over just in time to see Jason exiting the building. He jogged the two steps down to the ground, pulling out his car keys. He didn't see me at first, focused on whatever it was he was thinking about. I saw him look up, register my car, and then scan the landscape until he found me.

"Hey," he said casually as he came around the cars toward me.

I sucked in my breath and went to meet him. "Hey."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask about storage prices," I said. "For my things." I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "What are you doing here?"

"I've got a few things here," he said.

"Okay, well, nice to see you." I attempted to move past him toward the office.

"What specifically are you trying to put into storage?" he asked, blocking my way.

"All of it," I said. "I have to find a place for my couch and love seat, my tables and lamps, everything." I crossed my arms over my chest. "I have to make space for your recliner."

He frowned. "I don't have a recliner."

"Whatever you have," I corrected myself.

He looked confused, but at the same time, a smile tugged at his lips. "Actually, I don't have much. When I left Nashville, I sold everything."

"Everything?"

"I have a television, a dresser, and my clothes," he said, looking down at me. "I also have a bed."

The way he said that last word, with eyes locked onto mine, sent a shiver through my core. Of course he has a bed, I told myself. He wasn't going to sleep in mine. I had a nightmare vision of my cabin with nothing in the living room except a television. We would eat on the floor and ignore the splendor of the forest out the window. It was worse than when I had imagined a pool table and recliner, but I recognized instantly that it was utterly ridiculous.

"If you don't have any furniture…" I began.

"Yeah," he agreed. "We should keep your furniture. You don't have to put it into storage."

My heart settled just a little bit, knowing I wouldn't have to arrange for transportation of my stuff. More importantly, I would be able to keep the cabin just how I had arranged it.

"I don't want a television," I said.

He blinked, confused. "What?"

"I don't want a television," I said again.

"What do you do for fun after work?"

"I read or cook or enjoy the forest."

He sighed, rubbing his neck. With his head cocked to one side and his chest on display, I couldn't help thinking about what it would be like to run my fingers down his torso. That five-o'clock shadow would feel rough under my touch, scratching my lips if I were to kiss him. The fabric of his shirt looked crisp and would probably feel cool to the touch. Underneath that fabric, I could imagine that his chest would be hard, ridged with muscle. I longed to pull up his shirt and see for myself.

He was saying something, and I was completely missing it, fantasizing about undressing him. I had to get a grip.

"What?" I asked.

"What's wrong with having a television?" he asked again.

"I just think it would be ugly," I responded with less enthusiasm for the fight.

He looked down at me with those wild blue eyes and seemed to understand. "We can talk about it later."

I swallowed. My eyes drifted lower on his body to the belt that held his pants up and the swell of muscular thighs beneath it. My thoughts lingered just long enough to imagine sliding my hand across his crotch. I would find a magnificent swollen package that would fill my palm, responding to my caress by growing even larger.

I looked back up and found him talking again. "I'm sorry?" I asked. A slow grin spread across his face as he guessed where my mind had been. I flattened my features, forcing myself to pay attention to the conversation. "You can put the television in your bedroom," I snapped.

"Okay," he agreed.

"And I think I should get a discount on rent because I'm supplying all the furniture."

He opened his mouth to object, but no sound came out. I wondered what was going through his mind as he paused, eyes focused over my head. Finally, he looked back down at me. "Okay."

I hadn't been expecting that. My request for a reduction in the rent had been partly practical, but partly a ploy to drive attention away from my wandering eye. I didn't think he would really agree. That was great. By paying less rent to Jason, I could save my money, and when another opportunity opened up, I could seize it.

"Your stuff is here?" I asked stupidly. Of course, his stuff was here.

"Yeah," he said, looking around. "I dropped it off first thing when I got to town."

"How did you know it would work out with your job?"

He shrugged. "I didn't. But I was pretty set on moving here. If I didn't get the job at the police station, I would have looked for employment somewhere else."

"Would you have been a gas station attendant?" I asked, picturing him in oil-stained overalls. He looked hot no matter what he was wearing.

"I guess so," he laughed. "I hadn't really thought about it. They gave me the job as soon as I walked in."

"I've never gotten a job that fast," I said.

"I did some work in Nashville that the chief had heard of."

Now his thumbs were hooked into his belt, and he was smiling, the picture of Southern charm. The rational part of my brain was screaming at me to cut this conversation off. He was going to be my landlord. I couldn't daydream about his crotch every time we spoke to each other.

"I'm going to…" I pointed to my car.

"Right," he said. "Do you have plans for dinner?"

"I don't think we should have dinner together," I said, mustering up my disinterest. The truth was my stomach felt warm and my knees weak at the prospect of spending more time with him. I squashed those feelings violently, putting steel into my spine.

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Because." I rummaged around in my brain for a reason. Because we were about to enter a business relationship that wouldn't leave any space for romance. Because I was apparently too much of a head case to handle rational conversation with him. "Because you're going to be my landlord, and it's inappropriate for us to go on dates."

He laughed. "It's not a date. It's just dinner." He nudged my shoulder with his own, a gesture that was both intimate and friendly. "Come on. We both have to eat."

"I'm going to enjoy one of my last uninterrupted meals at home," I said, excusing myself.

"Okay," he said, clearly disappointed. "See you later."

I didn't respond, walking to the car as fast as I could without appearing like I was fleeing the scene of a crime. In the driver's seat, I shoved the key into the ignition. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. If that was what talking to him was going to be like, I didn't know how long I could last with him in the next bedroom. We had been standing in a parking lot, talking about furniture, and I wanted to rip his clothes off. This sharing a cabin plan was beginning to seem like the worst idea I had ever agreed to. I didn't have any choice, though. I would just have to grit my teeth and jump on the first cabin or apartment that came on the market. With any luck, I could make it through the ordeal without sharing my bed. I turned right onto the two-lane highway back toward town, my breath slowly returning to normal.