Page 18

She shut herself in the powder room, wondering what had happened to his sister. She thought of Meddy and how devastating it would be to lose her.

Chad’s sister in a wheelchair.

Her own mother in hers.

Did she and Chad have more in common than she’d realized?

The photo shoot he had been at for parents of children with special needs had to be related to his sister somehow. The man was a never-ending mystery, a tired soul who locked everything in instead of wearing it on his sleeve.

She flushed the toilet, reading the sign above it. Go ahead, make yourself comfortable. No, not that comfortable. Keep your clothes on. Don’t make things awkward.

A bubble of laughter broke free before she could contain it. She could have guessed that Chad would be all about encouraging people to take their clothes off in his apartment. Especially the fairer sex.

As she stood at the sink, she looked up, taking a moment to realize the small, opaque glass light above her was actually a skylight, allowing the city’s lights to filter in.

She washed her hands, then gently touched a couple of polished stones on a narrow shelf below the mirror.

A black opal that reminded her of a mood ring, ready to shine with streaks of different colors.

A plain gray pebble shaped similar to a lopsided heart.

And her favorite, which held a fossilized leaf imprint.

Did Chad collect cool-looking rocks in his pockets when he went out on a walk, taking them home?

She exited the bathroom after drying her hands on possibly the plushest towel she’d ever laid fingers upon. Following a clattering sound, she passed a spacious living room with cozy-looking couches piled with worn, sun-faded cushions.

To her right she found Chad, standing with his back to her in a dazzling kitchen of her dreams. A white quartz gigantic island sat in the middle, and a half a dozen stools lined up on the sitting room side.

There were no walls between the two areas and she could only imagine how amazing the natural light must be during the day.

The beautiful island top was bare, the usual assorted junk that tended to accumulate on kitchen counters strangely absent.

However, built into the island’s side were three shelves, where a dark brown basket spilled over with miscellanea.

Everything from phone charger cords, papers and other common necessities nobody knew how to organize.

Below that was a haphazard stack of cookbooks. The top one looked well-thumbed, the edges stained, the book puffed up because of wrinkled pages. The cookbook was hers, and it was not, by the looks of things, being used as a doorstop as she’d erroneously assumed.

She gently pulled it from the pile, keeping her eyes on Chad, who still had his back to her as he filled a glass at the sink.

To his left and right was a who’s-who lineup of kitchen gadgets and electronics.

An air fryer, mixer, blender, slow cooker, bread machine…

Everything you could buy and plug in seemed to be there.

And they were no longer perfectly pristine, either.

Athena flipped open her cookbook and skimmed the margin’s handwritten notes. It was clear why Chad asked such intelligent questions during their video filming.

Chad Mullens cooked. And he used her recipes.

She didn’t know this man at all.

And for some reason, she really liked that idea.

Mullens said nothing as Athena gently closed her cookbook and set it back on the shelf.

“Thought you might be thirsty,” he said, sliding a fresh glass of water toward her.

“Thanks.” She perched on a stool, taking in his kitchen. “Nice and big.”

“Are you talking about my kitchen or something else?”

She choked on a sip of water, then sent him an exasperated look. He could have sworn that beneath it a smile was fighting to break through.

“The only way to get the best kitchen is to buy the penthouse,” he joked.

“You know, that’s exactly what I told my real estate agent,” she said over the rim of her glass.

“Did not.” He shook his head at her, and her playful smirk grew. He tapped the countertop. “Want the tour?”

Athena shrugged, feigning indifference, but he detected a hint of eagerness to do a bit of snooping.

“Follow me.”

Normally, he didn’t invite people back to his house, and if he did, they certainly didn’t get a grand tour. But even though it was risky, he wanted her to see his home, and possibly break some of her assumptions about him.

She set down her glass and dutifully followed as he gestured to his slightly dumpy wraparound couch and the navy shag area rug that had been a dumb idea. His current vacuum cleaner could never quite get all the popcorn bits out of it. “Living room.”

They crossed the space and entered the other half of the penthouse where there were four bedrooms, two more bathrooms, his workout area plus access to his private rooftop patio.

Mullens gestured to the left. “Bathroom.” She peeked her head inside. Then he opened the first door on the right and allowed it to swing open. “Guest room. If you’re too tired to go home tonight—or any night—you’re always welcome to stay.”

“Won’t cramp your style?”

“Me and my date don’t have to come back here.”

Athena snorted in amusement and stared into the guest room, her eyes narrowing, hands moving to rest on her curvy hips. “Is that a floral bedspread?”

He laughed, having forgotten how incongruent it was with his public image. His first roommate after moving out of his dad’s house had definitely ridden him hard about that flowery bedcover. “Grandma made it.”

He went to close the door again, but Athena stepped inside, smoothing a hand over the soft, worn fabric.

The quilt was colorful, an abundance of small squares stitched together by hand.

When he’d been born, his grandmother had collected bits of cloth from relatives, making something that wove him into the fabric of a family that no longer gathered, was no longer held together by the threads of their mutual bloodline.

“It’s beautiful.” Athena turned, her expression changing from delight to that curious one she got when she was about to probe him. “Is she gone? Your grandma?”

He nodded, the lump in his throat restricting him from saying anything. He moved to the next door, expecting she’d follow, and swung it open when she caught up. “Office.”

The pale green room with the maple flooring was simply furnished with a desk and a chair. Shades were drawn across the large, south-facing window and they waved slightly as the air-conditioner regulated the temperature.

The next room hadn’t exactly been described as one in the real estate listing, as it had no actual doors.

The corner of the building, where two outer walls met, each lined with a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows, created a den area.

Mullens had fitted the space with rubber workout flooring.

His treadmill and bike were set in front of the windows, and a TV and sound system were at the ready to keep his mind occupied while his body worked.

On a sunny day, biking in front of all that glass, it felt like he was in the sky, defeating the laws of gravity, like a bicycling Superman.

Along the inner wall his weight rack and some of his other favorite torture devices sat waiting.

This was one of the few places in his home that showed evidence of his career choice, thanks to the framed posters of himself in hockey gear hanging above the racks and beside the large mirrors.

They served as motivation on days when his mind and body begged him to skip a workout.

Mullens hustled Athena along before she could spy the posters and crack a joke about his ego. “We’re going in a bit of a circle here,” he said, heading toward the end of the room and the west bank of windows. The night stretched out at his feet as he ducked through the next doorway to his left.

Athena stopped before the doorway. She stood close to the windows, her feet away from the edge of the room, the earth many stories below as she leaned her face toward the glass to peer downward. “Do you ever get scared you’re going to walk through a window and fall to your death?”

“You afraid of heights?”

She straightened. “No! It’s just…” She gazed at the tall windows, tentatively reaching out and pressing on the glass.

Mullens made a fist, leaned back through the doorway. He hammered on the thick pane in front of her. “See? No wobble. No cracks.”

“Oh my gosh! Stop!” She jumped at him, grabbing his fist and pulling it down.

He drew his arm back to his side, bringing her with it. She went to release him and he lifted his arm again as though ready to knock.

“Chad!” she squealed, the danger and fear mixed with a thrill, leaving her dancing eyes a deep hazel.

“Do you sleepwalk?” he asked.

“What? No.”

“Good. Because there are windows in my bedroom, too.”

“You are so overly confident!” Athena complained. There was no way she’d acknowledge the little thrill that had zipped through her body like a bullet after hearing his implied offer that she could sleep in his room—with him.

“What do you mean?” Chad asked, a picture of innocence.

“You know what I mean.”

“Tina!” He stepped back with fake surprise. “I am more than just a sex symbol.”

She rolled her eyes, her unease at walking through the playboy’s bedroom replaced by exasperation.

Although “exasperation” wasn’t quite right.

Amusement, maybe? A feeling of unexpected adventure?

Or satisfaction that even though she was a book nerd with lots of food rules, Chad still found her woman enough to flirt with?

He flirts with everyone, she reminded herself. She shook her head slightly, realizing that what she felt most right now was comfort and trust. Maybe even some weird, possibly misplaced sense of belonging.