Page 39

She lets out a shuddered breath as she rests her head against my shoulder. Her rapid breathing mirrors the unsteady rise and fall of her chest. I lean in to whisper soothing words in herear as I hold her close. I’m careful not to press her for more information about why she’s scared. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.
In the meantime, I’ll do what I can to make her comfortable while she’s living here. I mentally remind myself to add her thumbprint to the private stairwell, giving her direct access from the lobby to the penthouse so she doesn’t have to take the elevator.
When we finally reach the top and the elevator stops, she peeks open one eye to make sure the coast is clear. Once she deems it safe, she slips away from my embrace and steps around me, hurrying into the entryway of my apartment.
I immediately miss the warmth of her in my arms, but am quick to set those feelings aside. When she looks back at me, I offer her a cheerful smile.
“Welcome home, Ev.” I motion around the massive space.
“For now,” she states.
I hold my tongue to avoid adding fuel to the fire. I have a hunch she’ll have plenty to be angry about once she’s finished her tour. I might have left out an important detail about our sleeping arrangement during our conversation at the coffee shop.
“I still want you to feel comfortable while you’re here. Can I get you a glass of water, or do you want to sit for a minute?”
Everly shakes her head. “Thanks for offering, but I’m feeling fine now,” she says, her eyes drifting to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room that provide a panoramic view of the city. Moonlight streams through the glass, bathing the modern penthouse in soft, natural glow.
“This place is incredible.” She slowly spins in a circle as she takes in her surroundings. “Did you just move in?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I bought the place nine months ago.”
“Where’s all your furniture?” She waves to the living room that’s completely bare aside from a TV mounted to the wall and a beige loveseat.
“Last year, when Harrison announced the opening of an office in London, I volunteered. I’ve been splitting my time between here and our headquarters in Maine, so I didn’t see the point in setting up the place.”
She heads into the spacious kitchen that boasts white high-gloss cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and marble countertops. The only furniture in this room are two bar stools pushed up against the island.
“Oh, thank god you have a coffee maker,” she exclaims when she spots the all-in-one coffee and expresso machine on the counter. “This thing is high-tech,” she says with a low whistle. “You’ll have to teach me how it works.”
I rub the back of my neck sheepishly. “I’ve actually never used it. I prefer a protein shake or smoothie and rarely drink coffee.”
“So why do you have this fancy gadget?” She waves toward the stainless steel appliance.
“I overheard you tell my mom that you start your day with coffee and wanted to make sure you had your morning fix while you’re living here.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “You bought me a coffee maker?”
“Yeah,” I shrug. “It’s the least I could do to make the transition easier for you. I also had the cupboard stocked with a selection of coffee and mugs.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Everly murmurs. “I can’t wait to give it a try. I’m going to take a look around the rest of the house now.”
Before I can tell her I only gave Marcus, my friend who’s an interior designer, the go-ahead to fully furnish and decorate my bedroom, she zips away to explore the rest of the apartment.Her heels echo against the custom-made hardwood flooring, and then—
“Cash Stafford, you have some serious explaining to do,” she shouts from the primary bedroom.
Right on cue.
I don’t bother postponing the inevitable. As soon as I step through the door, she tosses a pillow at my head. I duck to avoid it, only for her to pelt another one that clips my shoulder. Thank god I refused to let Marcus add any decorative pillows to my bed, or I would be facing a full-scale pillow assault.
“You lied to me,” Everly accuses, storming toward me and jabbing me in the chest with her finger.
I hold up my hands in defense. “Woah. I never lied.”
“Yes, you did,” she counters. “You promised I would have my own room. I’ve checked every one, and this is the only one with a bed or any furniture whatsoever. Which means you were expecting me to share this bedroom the entire time,” she shouts, the sound reverberating against the walls.
“You can sleep anywhere you like. Although, if you choose one of the other bedrooms, I suggest you lay down several blankets, or the wood floor might get uncomfortable.” I shouldn’t provoke her when she’s this angry, but I can’t help myself.
She glowers at me, her hands on her hips. “If that’s the case, explain why all my things from my apartment are inyourbedroom. Thanks for asking permission to have strangers go into my home and move my things, by the way.” Her tone drips with sarcasm. “How did they get in?”