Page 15

15

PENNY

“Thanks for the ride,” I say, as Collins pulls up the driveway to my parents’ house.

I take a sip from my disposable coffee cup that Collins picked up for me at a drive-thru on our way here, insisting I have something on my stomach. I’m learning how to pick and choose my battles with that man. I mean, the bacon and egg wrap was really delicious, so I don’t have a lot of room to complain over his bossiness.

Collins’s eyes scan over the house, probably looking for any potential threats. It’s how his brain must think. “No problem, Penny.”

“Thanks for washing my clothes and drying them from yesterday.”

He smiles. “It’s no problem at all.”

“And thanks for letting me spend the night.”

I hate this feeling of being weird around someone who is paid to protect me. I also hate that I asked Collins to stay with me last night until I fell asleep, only to find him camped out on the armchair the next morning.

How can an act be so intimate and we didn’t even share the bed?

Do I talk in my sleep?

Maybe I drool or have other equally embarrassing habits.

Who the hell knows…

“Please call or text if you need anything.”

“Of course.”

“You mean that?”

“No.”

“And this is why there are tracking devices…”

I make a face. “Ew, gross. I’m going to pretend you were joking.”

“Of course.”

“You mean that?”

He makes a face. “No.”

Well, I guess I’m also going to need to scour all of my belongings for anything that could potentially be a GPS locator.

Fuck.

I exit the car, shut the door, and jog up to the house. I’m barely inside when Momma greets me with a big bear hug, startling me and making me drop my bag.

“Momma,” I gasp.

“I was so worried over that storm. The roads and the power and the trees down. Not to mention the flash flooding. And you weren’t here, and I was just scared.”

This is what smothering feels like, and there isn’t a darn thing I can do because I’m thankful someone cares.

“Collins took care of me,” I say simply, trying to breathe from the force of her embrace. “No need to worry.”

“Carrying you for nine months in my belly gives me the privilege to worry about you anytime I want.”

I pull back and smile. “I’m fine,” I promise. “Really.”

“You keep growing up so fast that if I blink, I’ll suddenly be old. And I know I won’t age well, I just know it. I did one of those age zap things on this filter app, and I was appalled. Even my future turkey neck had a turkey neck. Life can be so cruel sometimes.”

I laugh over her gift at keeping serious situations still lighthearted. “I’m going to go to my room and start figuring out what to pack. I got to see my new place last night, and it is going to be fun to furnish.”

“Can you ask me if?—”

“Momma?”

“Yes?” Her eyes are full of a hope I never want to diminish.

“I would love for you to help me shop.” I give her another hug. “I have a hard time committing to colors.”

Her squeeze tightens. “Oh yes, we can turn it into a girls’ day. If you want, we can even invite Angie and Claire to tag along and go get our nails done and just eat comfort food and?—”

“I am on board for all of that. However, I haven’t met my roommate yet, so I don’t want to overstep boundaries and pick out living room items yet that she may not like. Let’s just focus on my bedroom.”

“Do you know her name yet?”

“Not yet, but I’ll definitely have one,” I say softly. I’m pretty excited to hopefully meet a friend who I can bond with and talk about guys with. It is hard to see Angie and Claire together and not long for a bond like that for myself.

Momma bites her bottom lip. “What happens if you both don’t mesh well?”

“I can get out of my lease easily. The building doesn’t have a problem occupying its units, so having that stipulation isn’t going to backfire on them.”

“Oh, wow, that’s nice—and rare.”

“That’s why I jumped on the deal fast. I figure if it’s a bust, I have little risk—other than all of the time I spent moving in. I’m still holding out hope that this will be a good match.”

“You have to take that leap of faith sometimes, right?”

I smile. “Exactly.”

“Well, are you free tonight to do dinner out with the girls and then hit up some of the boutique shops in downtown?”

I think over my schedule. The perk right now of not having a social life is that I’m free most of the time. “I think tonight will work.”

“Oh, good. I’ll text the girls to see if they are free, and if they aren’t, we can still go just us.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Momma.”

I make my way up to my bedroom, tossing my belongings onto the bed in a haphazard pile. I use the bathroom and then pull out my luggage from the back of my closet, placing it on the bed. I crank up the music on my phone, allowing the sound to play through the wireless speaker I have resting on my nightstand. I dance my way around my space, tossing in items I can’t live without. I figure now is a good time to donate a bunch, plus keep a stash here in case I spend the night for holidays and other family gatherings.

Feeling sweaty from shaking my ass to Beyoncé, I take off my clothes and slip on my magenta bikini. I slather on sunscreen, dig in my nightstand drawer for a pair of shades, and then make my way downstairs.

“Oh, good,” Momma says, “I may join you in a bit after I do some gardening.”

I smile. “Perfect.”

I pour some tea over ice in a cup with a lid, adding a straw through the center opening. When I get outside, the air feels smoldering. I pull out a float from the pool house, tossing it into the water. Situating myself on the steps, I carefully climb on top, surprisingly not spilling a drop of my drink. I twist my hair on top of my head and recline into the cushions.

I’m going to miss the quietness that Hillsboro brings. However, I’m also looking forward to living on my own. Well, technically with a roommate. I can’t forget about her.

My mind drifts to yesterday and the revelation that Collins and I will be sharing a building together. How is that ever going to work? He doesn’t even have to work hard to find me. Selecting that apartment for rent literally made his job a whole hell of a lot easier, but in return made my quest at freedom a whole lot harder.

Leaning up with my eyes closed, I take a sip of my drink and then settle back into the comfort of the cushions.

And I float and float, as the sun warms all parts of me.

I must have dozed off, because when I wake, Momma is getting out of the water.

“What time is it? I must have fallen asleep.”

“You did,” she says with a laugh. “I think it’s almost three? The girls can meet us for dinner around five, if that sounds good to you.”

“Sounds great,” I say, taking a sip of my tea that is already past the cool stage. I slide from the float into the water, feeling the chill hit my heated body from my head to my toes. “I’m going to go shower so I’m ready for later.”

“I will do the same. Glad we all can hang out.”

“I am too.” The more I get to know Angie and Claire, the more I like them. They are sisters to me, and in just a few days my employers.

Things seem to be falling in place for me. Maybe I’ll be all right after all.

“Some storm last night, huh?” Claire asks, plopping down into the chair at the cafe that is situated along the water. “I’m pretty sure I ate all my feelings from the stress alone. I kept imagining I was going to give birth and that there would be no way of getting to the hospital.”

“Oh no,” I commiserate. I know how stress can eat at someone.

“You know people have given birth in their cars on the side of the highway, right? Like, that’s a thing, you know? I can’t even find my shoes in the car when I kick them off, let alone be able to find the baby if I were to give birth in one. And you know Nic would just freak. He threatens me daily that wrapping me in bubble wrap is still a viable option if I misbehave. Sheesh.”

When she finally takes a breath, we all give her a sympathetic look. Nic warned us via text prior to Claire arriving that she has been having some extreme anxiety lately. She still has a while to go, and worrying about every little thing is not good for her or the baby.

Momma sighs, clutching her heart. “Oh dear, I trust my son would be able to handle any curveball that gets thrown his way. Here”—she stands up to grab the extra chair to pull it closer—“put your feet up. You need to relax.” Momma glances down at her phone, buzzing on the surface of the table. She snickers at the message, turning the screen over and laying it again flat.

A growl escapes Claire. “He just texted you, didn’t he?”

“Umm…”

“So,” Angie says, clapping her hands together, “did Penny tell you she is going to work at Plus None?”

“I was there, remember?” Claire snaps, looking enraged.

“I was talking to Donna,” Angie says smoothly.

“She did,” Momma says with a smile. “I think that’s wonderful.”

I look up from the menu, glancing toward Angie and Claire. “I’m really excited.”

“You are going to be a great asset to our brand,” Angie says with pride.

I’m not sure why she has so much confidence in me. Maybe it’s my last name and the assumption that I’ll be stubborn and determined to get things done right. It’s in the Hoffman blood.

“I think it’s exciting you found your own place too,” Claire interjects, taking a big bite of the bread from the basket in the center of the table. Maybe she was just hangry upon arrival.

“Well, I’m guaranteed a roommate. I just haven’t met her yet.”

“Luckily you get along with basically everyone, Pen,” Momma says, making me smile. She is always so complimentary.

I lean over and give her a squeeze.

When the waiter returns with waters, another basket of bread, and cold strawberry soups, we place our main food orders—mine being a spinach and goat cheese salad with fresh mandarin oranges.

“So, Penny,” Angie says, “your brother was telling me that you were in the city when the storm hit.”

“Yeah, I was given access to my apartment and was checking it out. I got all of these warnings on my phone to take cover. Collins was with me because”—I motion with my hand—“well, I can’t drive yet. Anyway, there was no damage to the building, and I was glad not to be alone.”

I watered down the entire story, but how do I tell them that I have a bit of a crush on my secret bodyguard? How do I tell them that even a brush of his hand can cause me to want things I spent a year thinking I would never want again? Sure, I flirted with a couple of the workers coming in and out of the facility while in Seattle, but I was really just testing the water—desperate to rearrange my emotions to mimic something that looked normal.

That’s all I want for myself. I want normal.

Nothing about Collins Stone is normal though. Just the way he stayed with me last night—without expecting anything in return—is not normal. Guys don’t do that. Bodyguards don’t do that either. I doubt he ever spent time in either of Angie or Claire’s bedrooms. Sure, I was at his place, but he could have easily retreated when I finally fell asleep.

But he stayed.

Plus, he is older—a lot older. So no wonder why every time I look at his hands, I imagine him knowing what to do with them when given the chance. He’s probably been with dozens of women.

“For those of us who thought being alone was inevitable,” Angie continues, “it’s a wonderful feeling when you let down your guard to allow someone in.”

Her words hit me harder than I think she intended them to—but I’m not letting Collins in. I’m actually trying to push him out. He’s the roadblock I’m trying to avoid right now. And based on everything he divulged back at his place, I doubt he’d ever want more with anyone.

Maybe Collins is being tortured by his own misery. I mean, why would he get the type of tattoo he did without it having some sort of symbolic meaning at the very least?

Claire makes a disgusted face at her best friend, drawing my attention back to Angie’s sweet declaration. “Barf. Vomit. Ugh.”

“Why? Just why?” Angie asks, as we all laugh.

“Love sounds good on paper,” Claire explains, glancing at her phone. “But this man of mine”—she turns to Momma—“no offense, Donna, but he is going to send me straight to some island where all they serve is chocolate pudding and is free of any person sporting a dick.”

“Being offended is a choice I never choose,” Momma says nonchalantly.

Turning to Claire, I ask, “Why? What’s going on?”

“Apparently Nic and Graham have taken it upon themselves to buy the ten top-rated video baby monitors on the market.” She holds up her phone to show us a picture of the devices arranged on the floor. “From around the world, mind you. And they are now trying to hack into each of them to see which has the most superior firewall.”

“Can you say nerds?” Momma asks, making us burst out into laughter.

Claire points to the corner of the photo where there is something lying on the floor. “See the baby doll? That man is obsessed. One night I caught him practice burping the thing.”

“That’s cute though,” I croon, holding my hands over my heart.

“Then the head fell off.”

Momma shakes her head, leaning back in her chair. “I thought for sure I raised more well-adjusted men. Those two are going to drive me to that island with you, Claire. But I’ll need all the dicks. Big ones. Like an entire bag of them.”

“Momma!” I scoff. And she manages to look innocent. I just can’t with her.

“Come on, Penny,” Claire pouts. “You’ll come to the island too?”

“Count me in,” I add without hesitation. “I could get used to daily doses of chocolate pudding.”

“Good. But I’m serving it with pickles.”

“That’s nasty, Claire,” Angie says, making a face. “And I didn’t even think you like pickles.”

“They aren’t for me.” She pats her stomach. “They are for the uterus inhabitant.”

It feels good to laugh, to cry from laughing, and to just…

Be myself.

Asking Momma to help out with interior design work is basically like taking a kid to a candy store. She’s on a high, walking around the store, feeling up fabric and looking at us girls for an appropriate reaction—which none of us must give her because she scrunches up her nose and then sighs in true Donna-drama fashion.

“Just pick something, Momma,” I say with as much calmness as I can fake. “Everything looks amazing in here.” And it does. I’m having choice paralysis basically.

“I can’t just pick something , Pen. This is art.”

I turn to Claire and Angie. “Well, I must suck at art.”

“Us too,” Angie laughs. “I would have settled on Dave’s Discount Furniture but was afraid to suggest that.”

We are camped out on the display living room set, surrounded by vases of fake flowers, French macarons in glass bowls, and throw pillows fit for a queen.

“How much for the macarons?” Claire asks, her tone serious.

“I think they are just for show,” I answer.

“So, I can eat them?”

“If you like plastic,” Angie giggles. “They are fake.”

Claire picks one up, turns it around in her hand. “Huh. They sure look real.”

“I think that’s the whole goal,” I add, stifling a giggle.

“Seems like the shittiest thing I’ve ever seen. Talk about a tease.”

Momma takes out her phone and snaps some pictures at various angles. “I think I found my vision.”

“Oh, good, because I think the store is closing soon,” I respond, relieved that this outing is going to come to an end. I knew going into this adventure that my feet would hurt, but I didn’t expect just how much. My blisters are going to be raw at this rate.

I’m messing around with my phone when I see a new message pop up onto the screen. It’s from Collins and it looks as if he sent me an image.

I open up the message and see a picture of the guest room at his apartment and my hair tie resting on the nightstand and his finger pointing to it. I send back a laughing emoji in return. I honestly have no idea how I can keep leaving my ties all over the place. First in his car, then in his apartment. I must be the reason they sell them in packs of one hundred.

Momma clears her throat, causing us girls to look up. “Everything is all set, Penny. We are good to go.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup. Delivery is expected in the next five business days. You’ll get a text confirmation with a window of time you should be at your new place to let the delivery people inside.”

I nod. “Thank you, Momma. I really appreciate it.”

“I would do anything for you girls,” she says, bending over to give each of us a hug.

“Where to now?” I ask, getting up from the comfort of the display sofa.

“I’m hungry again,” Claire says, her tone serious. “And before any of you make a snide comment on how I’m”—her face distorts and her voice changes pitch—“ letting myself go , it is the macarons’ fault.”

“Snacks it is,” Momma announces, causing us all to laugh.