“Won’t you want to keep some?”
“My place is furnished.” Sean shut the door to keep the air-conditioning from leaking down the stairwell. And also because he wanted her to stay for a little longer. “So is my brother’s.”
Her brows shot up. “You have a brother?”
“He didn’t mention that?”
“No, he only told me to call you.”
Well, hadn’t he won the lottery. “There are three of us, actually. Billy, Mac and me. I’m in the middle. Billy’s the youngest.”
“Oh.” She tucked some hair behind her ear, something he had a feeling she did when she felt awkward. “I had no idea. Where are the other two?”
“Here and there.” Or in the case of Mac, God only knew where. Matter of fact, he still hadn’t returned Sean’s call. “Seriously, Lizzie, check out the furniture, tell me what you want and I’ll help you move it downstairs. Except for the couch, at least for the time being. I’m going to be sleeping on it until I’m through here.”
She gave him an odd look, as if she was thinking there were plenty of beds in the place and was wondering why he didn’t use them. But she didn’t make any comment, just walked around the living room then headed for the kitchen.
As she wandered around assessing furniture, he found himself wishing he could take the offer back. For some reason, he didn’t want this stuff in her home…as if what had taken place here could contaminate where she lived. Which was ridiculous. Domestic abuse wasn’t a virus. And sure as hell if it was, you couldn’t pick it up from a ratty Barcalounger.
When she went into his and Billy’s bedroom, Sean followed, his eyes locking on the sway of her hips as she walked. He let his gaze wander up her spine to her shoulders and her neck. With a flash of inspiration, he wanted to pull her up against him, draw his fingers in deep through her hair, tilt her head back—
“Look at the books!” She crouched down. “These are from high school, right? Were they yours?”
Sean quickly knelt and started stuffing the things into the pack. “They’re nothing. Nothing special.”
She sat back and he knew she was watching his frantic hands, but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d always had to protect his books and evidently the compulsion hadn’t lessened with age. When they were all safely zipped in the bag, he hefted them back onto the shelf in the closet and shut the door.
“So the furniture?” he prompted with an edge. “You want any?”
She got up slowly. “I think not. Thank you.”
As she turned away, he knew she was hightailing it for the exit and he didn’t blame her. Goddamn it, he’d all but bitten her head off.
“Lizzie?”
She paused in the bedroom doorway, but didn’t look at him. “Yes?”
“If I promise to be more polite, would you like to go out for some dinner?”
When her head swiveled around, her eyes were grave. “You don’t like it here, do you?”
For some stupid reason, he found himself shaking his head. “I’d rather be just about anywhere else in the world.”
“Why?”
“No reason.”
The lie was no doubt painfully apparent, yet he was sticking with it. Some things you never shared. Not because you were weak, but because you were strong.
***
Lizzie stared at Sean and idly thought he looked better than any man should. The black T-shirt and low-hanging jeans were just too attractive. And the fact that he was barefoot was really sexy. Even his feet were nice.
In the silence between them, she was reminded keenly of his father. No matter what Sean said, he and Mr. O’Banyon were a lot alike. Very private. Very closed.
Though she had known Mr. O’Banyon for quite a while, there had been so many things the man had hidden, just as Sean was doing now. And the two of them did it the same way. Their faces just walled up tight, their eyes going blank, their mouths drawing into a line.
“So what do you think?” Sean prompted. “Dinner?”
The thing was, the shutdown happened fast. Literally in a moment, they were gone and you were talking to a two-dimensional likeness of who they really were.
It made her want to dig to find out what had happened in this apartment, what had caused a father and son to split so irrevocably.
Son? Sons, she corrected herself. She couldn’t believe Mr. O’Banyon hadn’t mentioned he had multiple children.
“I’ll get my purse,” she said, heading for the living room.