Page 7 of Sweet Yuletide (Indigo Bay Christmas Romances #4)

When Sheridan returned to the beach cottage, there was no sign of her new roommate anywhere. Relief flowed through her, bringing a much-needed smile. This trip was supposed to be about having alone time. She sure hoped they could stay out of each other’s way.

As Sheridan carried two grocery bags to the kitchen, she relished the silence.

Crowds had filled both the café and store, and she waited ten minutes for a table and stood in the checkout line for at least that long at the market.

That was surprising for a weekday in December.

She’d dealt with customers and artists at the gallery so wasn’t an introvert, but she’d hoped for a quiet vacation in Indigo Bay.

Even though Hope had mentioned things to do, Sheridan expected the beach town would be near deserted.

Now she found crowds and an unexpected roommate.

Was her Christmas meant to be blue no matter what she did? Well, it would if she planned on celebrating, which she didn’t. She had no idea what Michael would do for the holidays, but she hoped nothing.

As she set the bags on the kitchen’s breakfast bar, she noticed Sheridan’s food scribbled on a sticky note.

Michael must have done that, and he’d left her plenty of room to store her items. She hadn’t been sure if he was humoring her about the rules, but this was nice of him.

He might not be such a bro type as she initially thought.

In the refrigerator, she found an empty shelf with her name on it and placed her perishables there. She closed the door and then organized her food on the counter. If Michael continued to be so thoughtful, sharing the cottage wouldn’t be so bad.

She arranged the lunch items—peanut butter, jelly, bread, and cookies. Those were her favorites growing up, and they were also easy on her wallet. She wanted to make sure she could afford a few meals out, even if she’d be eating by herself.

As Sheridan glanced at Michael’s note, a ball of warmth settled at the center of her chest. He’d…

surprised her. Everything about him reminded her of a frat boy.

She hadn’t been part of the Greek system at the University of Washington, where she received her art history degree, but she’d met a few fraternity brothers during her four years there.

Though Michael was more attractive than any of those guys.

She bet many artists would want to use clay or stone to bring his artistic build to life.

Painters would enjoy capturing the way his features fit perfectly together.

Handsome, yes, but she found cerebral, geeky guys with glasses and thinner builds more her style.

Not that she’d dated much since graduating college and returning to Berry Lake.

Her focus had been on the gallery, so she put no effort into dating.

Why should she when the results would be fleeting?

Her parents’ divorce had washed away any fantasies about finding her one true love and living happily ever after. Neither existed. Why even try?

She’d nearly laughed when Michael mentioned her meeting someone in Indigo Bay, because a date wasn’t on her Christmas list. The only thing she wanted Santa Claus to bring her this year was a job that paid enough to afford an apartment of her own.

Sheridan grabbed a water bottle and opened the lid. The liquid was just what she needed.

“You’re back.”

The male voice startled her. She choked but somehow managed not to swallow the water

“Oops. I keep surprising you.” Michael stood at the entrance to the kitchen. He wore black sweats full of holes and a stained, gray hoodie that had seen better days. Still, his easy grin would make most women take a second look.

Or swoon.

“It’s okay.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I haven’t had a roommate since my sophomore year of college, so I’m not used to having someone else around.”

Well, not counting this month living with her mom and stepfather, but she didn’t know if family technically counted as roommates.

He entered the kitchen, moving with more grace than he should have, given his size. “How did you like Sweet Caroline’s?”

“Delicious. I’ll go again.”

His eyes lit up. “Be careful, or you’ll become addicted. At least that’s what Marley and Von tell me.”

“Hope mentioned that, too, but what a way to go.”

“Death by pie,” he joked. “You’d have a smile on your face until the end.”

Sheridan folded the two grocery sacks. He’d been polite with the rules, so she didn’t want to leave a mess. “Thanks for saving a space for my stuff.”

“No problem.” He came closer, making the kitchen seem smaller. “Find what you need at the market?”

“I did.” His soap and water scent tickled her nose. He must have showered, but his hair wasn’t damp. She glanced at the food to stop herself from staring at him. “It’s not as large as the one back home, but I found what I wanted.”

“I stopped there yesterday and thought the same thing. You’ll be eating well.” He grabbed a blue box of macaroni and cheese from his stash. “Me? I go for quick and tasty. Especially for lunch.”

“As long as you enjoy it.”

“I do.”

She watched him grab a pan from a lower cabinet. He appeared to know where everything was and wasted no movement. He had to be an athlete, but what sport?

Hands full, Michael motioned to the sink with his head. “Do you mind?”

“Oh.” She was blocking his way. “Sorry. I’m going to unpack. Enjoy your lunch.”

Ugh . And now she was rambling. She rushed out, went into her bedroom, and closed the door.

What is wrong with me ?

Watching him captivated her. That made no sense.

Jet lag .

That would explain why.

A nap would help, but she needed to stay awake until bedtime to adjust to the new time zone faster. In the meantime, she would get settled in, take a stroll on the beach, eat dinner, and then sleep.

And most importantly, she would avoid Michael Patterson as much as possible.

They’d set rules for a reason, and she didn’t want to be the one to cause problems. If he asked her to leave, she had nowhere to go but home to Berry Lake.

She wouldn’t mess up this free place to stay in exchange for house-sitting and doing a few errands.

Which meant keeping her distance from her new roommate.

* * *

The next morning, a man’s voice sent Sheridan bolting upright in bed and reaching for her phone to dial 911. Sunlight filtered through the half-open blinds, but she didn’t recognize where she was.

Dazed and disoriented, she blinked.

Not her apartment. Wait, she hadn’t lived there in three weeks.

This wasn’t the guest room at her mom and Max’s house, either.

Sheridan squinted, her gaze zeroing in on her suitcase. And then she remembered.

Indigo Bay.

Hope’s cottage.

Michael.

Her temporary roommate.

He must be talking to someone.

As her muscles relaxed, and her panic lessened, she lowered the phone to the mattress.

She hadn’t seen him when she made dinner and ate it at the breakfast bar. His door had been closed and he made no noise, so she assumed he was out. Though if he had been, she’d never heard him return.

A glance at her phone showed ten o’clock. Sheridan showered, dressed, and ate. Time to get her first job for Hope completed.

Each step Sheridan took toward the studio sent anticipation flowing through her. She loved everything about the art world—from the history to the proper way to display works—but she lacked the talent to create herself. The artist’s process had intrigued her for years. So did their working space.

As she stepped inside, Sheridan shimmied her shoulders, feeling like a kid in a toy store, only a million times better. The faint scent of drying paint lingered on the air. It reminded her of touring a warehouse full of artist studios in Seattle. Each had been different, and she’d been mesmerized.

Even though Sheridan received detailed instructions about which painting to donate and the works to be cataloged, she took a moment to survey the area. Hope had mentioned how her brother, Von, had remodeled a spare bedroom to provide the perfect studio for her to work. Hope hadn’t been kidding.

Tall windows and French doors to the back deck allowed natural light in.

Paintings hung on one side, while others leaned against the same wall, and a few canvases sat on easels.

The variety of sizes and subjects illustrated Hope’s immense talent.

To the right sat a built-in unit with shelves, cabinets, and a large counter.

The utility sink was perfect for washing brushes and hands.

Everything had been constructed with Hope’s needs in mind and with love.

The Ryan twins were fortunate to have each other.

Sheridan headed to the framed seascape of Indigo Bay, hanging on the far wall where Hope told her the oil painting would be.

The view appeared to be from the back deck.

The sun’s position suggested morning. The picture captured the beach grass blowing in the breeze so realistically, she almost felt the wind against her skin.

Two dogs ran across the sand near the waves rolling to shore.

Beautiful .

The piece should raise a lot of money for the animal rescue.

In the closet, she found the carton and materials she needed. A few minutes later, she carried the box outside, but unlike the SUV crossover she drove in Berry Lake, the four-door rental car’s interior and trunk were both too small for the painting to fit.

What should I do ?

Sheridan noticed Michael’s much bigger SUV.

It was older, in need of a wash, but big enough to fit the painting.

Yes, they’d agreed to keep their distance, but this was—not an emergency—but a way to help a person who was helping her.

If he said no, she would see which ride app was cheapest in Indigo Bay.

She returned inside and placed the box against the wall near the entryway. A glance down the hallway showed Michael’s closed door, but music played. Not Christmas carols, but what sounded like classic rock. He must be awake because no one could sleep through that.

She knocked.

“Come in,” he called out.

Sheridan did and froze.

He was in bed. A blue-plaid comforter covered part of his bare chest. Okay, this was his room, not common space, but this was the third time she’d seen him, and twice he’d been shirtless.

He yawned. “Hey.”

His voice sounded sleepy, matching his bed hair that made him look even hotter.

What was wrong with her? She couldn’t blame thinking of him this way on jet lag. “Sorry if I woke you. I heard the music, so I thought you were up.”

“I’ve been hitting the snooze button for a while.” He sat, sending the comforter onto his lap. “What’s up?”

Oh, no . She stared at him as if she were seeing a man’s bare chest for the first time. She’d seen this view yesterday, too. But she had to admit his broad, muscular shoulders appealed to her more than those of the men who hung out at Berry Lake’s public beach.

Not helping .

She glanced around the room, trying to focus on anything except him. Her gaze landed on a Charleston RiverDogs bobblehead.

“Sheridan?” he asked.

“I need you.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed. She hadn’t meant to say that. “Your help. I need your help. With Hope’s painting. The box won’t fit in my rental car. Your SUV looks big enough.”

Ugh . She was rambling. Time to try again. “Would you mind driving me to the B and B this morning? It isn’t far.”

If only she’d started with that.

No biggie. In less than two weeks, she would never see him again.

“Do you want to go now?”

“Yes.” The word shot out of her mouth. “I mean, sometime today. I’d like to get it dropped off sooner rather than later, but there’s no rush.”

As she pressed her lips together, she wondered about the odds of a hole opening and her falling inside. That might be a less painful way to go than facing Michael’s scrutiny. Something about him disarmed her. That wasn’t like her.

“Sure.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “Let me take a quick shower first.”

“Great. I’ll wait in the living room, but don’t rush.” She hated bothering him and asking for his help, so she didn’t want him to feel pressured. “We can go whenever you’re ready.”

Wicked laughter lit his eyes.

Her muscles bunched in anticipation of being teased or cut down. Deena and her minions had done that ever since the wedding. Sheridan had wanted to escape from that in Indigo Bay, but she would put up with anything Michael threw at her so she wouldn’t disappoint Hope.

“I won’t be long,” he said. “I’ll just need two sips of coffee before we leave.”

Wait. That was… it ?

She waited for the punchline—him saying negative stuff about her.

His forehead creased. “Is there something you want to say?”

“Thanks.” As the word tumbled out of her mouth, the tension evaporated from her body.

“You’re welcome.”

Sheridan remained frozen in place, but she didn’t know why.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“Enjoy your shower.” No, that wasn’t right. She would try again. “How do you like your coffee?”