A Wifey for the Bad Boy(32)
“It’d be a useful skill for me.”
“Useful? How?”
He retracted his hand, making her open her eyes. For a second, she swore she saw something soft in his expression…like fondness or affection. But then he scowled and stood up. “Would you like me to walk you to your room?”
Her stomach twisted at the idea of being in that room again; it made her forget her earlier question. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
He shook his head.
Withholding a sigh, she stood up and followed him. She knew she was going to have to back to that room eventually; it’s not like she had anywhere else to go.
“Thank you again, Mr. Kane,” she said as they walked. “I don’t think I can say that enough.”
He bellowed out a breath, sounding more exasperated than anything else. Without glancing back at her, he said, “Call me Andrew.”
Chapter Three
The following days weren’t nearly as stressful as Melinda had thought they would be. Although the basement-room still perturbed her from time to time, the incident with Travis didn’t haunt her or humiliate her. With hindsight giving her a sense of wisdom, she knew she didn’t do anything wrong—couldn’t have predicted Travis being that kind of person. She had done the best that she could—took some risks along the way—and shit happened. That was that.
“How many other people live here?” she asked Andrew as she stared out his room’s window. “I never see anyone when I’m coming up here to visit with you.”
“Why do you keep doing that, by the way?” He was in his kitchenette, and he was munching on some crackers. And, as always, he was glaring. “I don’t invite you, and I have a lot of things to do.”
Personally, she wasn’t really sure why she kept bothering Andrew. She knew she should go into town and look for a job, but she had been lonely for such a long time and Andrew was…well, he was there. And there was something comfortable about him, despite his gruff behavior.
“Don’t change the subject,” she said, her stern tone covering her embarrassment and uncertainty. She glanced over at him. “Do you not have any other tenants?”
“Besides you, I have four.” Andrew took a large bite from his sandwich, a dab of mustard smearing over the corner of his lips. “They’re private. People who live in Alaska are private.” He motioned his sandwich toward her like he was trying to flip her off with it. “God only knows why that’s any of your business though.”
She crossed her arms and held her head high. “I happen to be interested about people.”
“Why?”
“Because they each have their own stories, their own perceptions—things that make you think about yourself in a different light and make you feel like you are part of the human race.”
He blinked, incredulous. Then he swallowed the remnants of his bite. “You don’t know that you’re part of the human race?”
She rolled her eyes and turned to the window. “You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t.”
“You want to go on a walk with me?”
Andrew choked—on his spit or on his sandwich, Melinda didn’t know and she didn’t care. Her own bout of shock was making her stiff, her eyes wide. She hadn’t meant to say those words aloud, even though staring at the beautiful scenery had sprouted the idea in her head a couple of days ago.
“What?” Andrew said, coughing wetly.
Her face warmed. She opened her mouth to take back the request—her gaze still on the scenery outside—and she hesitated before shrugging. “Yeah. Why not? Go on a walk with me.”
His face was screwed in a look of disbelief and sheer confusion. “Why?”
“You know this area,” she said slowly, giving him a pointed glare. “And I would like to see this area. And if I go out by myself, I could get mauled by a bear.”
“How could I prevent you from getting mauled by a bear?”
Frustrated, she let out a breathy groan. “Fine, fine, don’t go. I’ll just stay here and we can keep conversing like this. I’m sure looking at the forest is better than being in it, anyway.” She loosened the tension in her shoulders and stretched. Disappointment pricked the back of her mind, but she chose to ignore it. “So have you ever been camping out there?”
Andrew, finishing off the last of his sandwich, walked to his front door.
“Really?” she snapped. “You’re going to ditch me in your own place? What do you have to do this very second that is so important?” She cocked an eyebrow at his retreating form and placed her hands on her hips.