What The Heart Finds Page 12

  “I'm not an identity thief,” she said, her voice sounding deeper than usual, her throat sore from crying.

  “Well I guessed as much. You have hard enough time holding onto this identity you wear,” he said, almost smiling. Almost. “So what were you doing on the computer?”

  “Stealing financial records,” she admitted, watching his brow raise. “for my job,” she quickly added.

  “Your job? What do you work for a major competitor?” he asked, his tone amused.

  “I work for Elliott Michaels,” she said, waiting for the recognition.

  “Hannah's husband?” Eric asked. “the millionaire?”

  “That's the one.”

  “No wonder you're so uptight,” he laughed. “So what the hell did he want with the inn's financial records?”

  “He wants to buy it,” she shrugged.

  “For Hannah,” Eric said, nodding.

  “Yeah. For Hannah. So he sent me in to gather a bit of information first. What the local attractions are. What needs to be repaired or changed. Employee salary. What the books look like. He just wanted to know what he was getting into.”

  “Why didn't you just... tell Emily?”

  “Because I was told to make sure no one found out. Besides...” she said, looking down. “Emily wouldn't have listened. She was understandably ticked.”

  “She's got a hot temper,” Eric agreed. “Have you told Elliott about what happened?”

  “Yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “I'm waiting for the scolding or firing text.”

  “You think he'll still buy it?”

  “Probably. If it's for Hannah... he'd do anything for Hannah.”

  “Then he really has no reason to fire you. You got some of the information I'm sure. He can figure the rest out when he buys it. Or he would be upfront with Emily and ask her. She might tell if she knew it was a gift for Hannah.”

  “I don't think she'd be happy about anyone buying it. That inn is her baby,” Lena said, understanding completely. She looked at Eric for a second, sighing. “I'm gonna be the town pariah in a few hours. I have to get out of here.”

  “I still have a few days left until your car is ready,” Eric said, looking at her face, puffy and splotchy from crying for god knows how long and realized, with blinding clarity, that he didn't want her to leave.

  “I know,” she said, looking out to where business owners were opening up their stores. “I was thinking that maybe you could lend me one of your cars. I would pay for it of course,” she added quickly, knowing the money probably meant nothing to him. “And then when you finish my car, we can meet up somewhere and swap.”

  “No baby,” he said, shaking his head. “Just stay.”

  “Stay where?” Lena exclaimed, throwing a hand out toward the town.

  “Here. With me,” he said, his voice quiet. At her almost panicked look, he chuckled. “Not like that. You can have the bedroom. I'll take the couch. It just seems silly to go back to work only to have to take another few days off to drive back out this way to swap your car out.”

  He had a point. If she went back and, by some miracle, wasn't fired... she would never be able to sneak away again so soon. She was already dreading the amount of back-logged work she would have to catch up on. Things that she couldn't do over the internet. Granted, she was sure Tad was keeping a fair enough handle on things, but there's no way he could get to all of her work on top of all of his.

  It would take weeks of only leaving the office for a few short hours of sleep for her to get everything all back up to speed.

  And Elliott probably wouldn't look too kindly on her leaving early, or leaving at all, until it was all finished.

  “You know it's the most logical solution,” Eric prodded, knowing the only way to get her to stay was to appeal to her practical side. “Hey, I'll even throw in star treatment. Turn down service, a flower with breakfast every morning...” Lena's eyes went wide, panicked almost. “What? What's the matter?”

  “Your flowers,” she said, looking back toward the inn sadly. “I forgot your flowers,” she said turning back, her eyes apologetic.

  “So I'll get you more,” Eric said, standing and reaching for her hand to help her up. “Come on, let's go get your settled in,” he said, reaching for her bags, raising a brow when she tried to help him with them. “Go on through the garage, there's a door in the back.”

  Lena walked past her car, it's hood open, some of it's guts still ripped out, and toward the plain door in the back corner. She was greeted immediately by a staircase going up to the apartment. She got to the landing, waiting for Eric to catch up.

  “It's open,” he said from a few stairs below.

  Lena pushed open the door, greeted with the overwhelming scent of Eric. The traces of grease and oil and the clean, crisp smell of his soap... almost lemony. The floor plan was open with a living space to the left and a kitchen to the right. Behind the kitchen there were two doors in the hall. Bedroom and bathroom, she assumed.

  The kitchen had an island with two stools, separating the room from the living room area. The cabinets were deep cherry wood color with sand colored counter tops and wooden floors. The wooden floors continued seamlessly into the living area. One comfortable looking brown material couch was pushed up against the wall, a coffee table in front of it, and an obnoxiously large television on the wall. To the side of the room was an old fashioned record machine with a discreet CD drive in the front. A pile of records and CDs were piled up next to it. An impressive DVD collection was piled carefully on a ceiling-high bookshelf.

  Everything was neat and simple. No art on the walls. No carpet on the floors. No knick-knacks on shelves.

  “Why don't you make some coffee?” Eric said, dropping her bags beside the front door. “I am going to run and straighten up the bedroom. Change the sheets. I'll be right out. He turned into the bedroom, sticking his head back into the hall. There's cream in the fridge and the sugar is above the sink.”

  Cream and sugar. He had paid attention. Sometimes it was the little things that counted. Knowing how you took your coffee. Remembering to change the sheets.

  Lena walked over to the kitchen, finding not a simple drip coffee machine, but a drip machine on the side paired with an espresso machine and a frother. “Do you want a shot in yours?” she asked, putting the coffee grounds into the machine and reaching for the bag of espresso beans.

  “Two,” he called back.

  She heard him scurrying around, making far too much noise to just be stripping the bed. Maybe his bedroom was where all his junk was. Where he kept his magazines. Threw off his shoes. Where his porn was stashed.

  She moved over toward the living room, thumbing through the records which seemed to be mostly the classic rock she always heard him listening to. Singing along to. There was something unexpectedly sexy about a man who sang. And the sexy factor wasn't exactly in the fact of whether or not they actually had a good singing voice or not. It was in the utter lack of self-consciousness that allowed them to belt it out regardless.

  His movie collection was overwhelmingly action movies. A few of which she noticed. Most which she did not. With cheesy, cheap looking cases and absurd plotlines. Apparently he had a thing for b-rated movies.

  She heard water running and the sound of a spray bottle squirting and realized he had moved on to the bathroom.

  It was actually kind of charming that he was putting so much effort into it.

  The coffee machine beeped and she made her way back to the kitchen, searching for mugs. She went into the fridge to find the cream and found it almost completely empty save for the cream, a bottle of ketchup, a stick of butter, and a small assortment of yogurt.

  “What do you eat?” she called, shaking her head.

  “I order out most of the time,” he said, coming back into the kitchen, looking a bit disheveled. He walked behind her, putting a hand on her hip for a second as he moved past. He walked over to the
machine, pouring the espresso and a bit of coffee into a mug. “Seems like too much work to cook for myself every night.” He took a sip of his coffee, watching as she made hers. “You alright?”

  She glanced over at him, sending him a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah,” she lied. “Eric...” she said, feeling awkward. “thank you so ...”

  “Stop,” he said, shaking his head. “don't thank me. Go take a shower....”

  “Oh my god,” she groaned into her coffee mug. “a shower.”

  Eric laughed. “Yeah those inn tubs leave a lot to be desired,” he agreed. “Take a shower. Relax.” He looked at her for a moment. “How long were you out front?”

  Lena looked down at her coffee cup. “I got kicked out pretty much as soon as you dropped me off.”

  “Baby why didn't you ring the doorbell?”

  Lena shrugged a shoulder. “I wasn't in the best shape last night,” she admitted, feeling silly about how much she had actually cried.

  Eric put his cup down on the counter, moving to close the space between them. He stood in front of her, putting his thumb under her chin and making her face him. “All the more reason you should have rang,” he said softly.

  “I'm here now,” she said carefully.

  “Mmmhmm,” he said, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek. “So you go ahead and settle in. I am going to work on that ridiculous car of yours for a while.”

  “Okay,” he said, smiling a bit. “Thanks, Eric.”

  “Anytime baby,” he said, grabbing his coffee cup and moving toward the door.

  She heard his footsteps on the stairs and then his radio going on. She finished her coffee, washed her cup, and made her way to the bathroom. It was small and plain with white tiled floors and blue walls. The shower was the most welcome sight she had seen in ages.

  She quickly stripped out of her clothes, and climbed into the shower, enjoying it more than she had anything in a long while. She slathered her hair with his shampoo. Which also happened to be a conditioner. And a body wash. Lena laughed, shaking her head. Only a man would buy something that claimed to be three things in one. And likely failed being at at least two of them. But it was soap. And she needed to scrub her awful night away.

  Besides, it smelled like him.

  After her shower, she rummaged around through his bathroom cabinets, finally finding a boxed toothbrush. She wiped the condensation off of the mirror and looked at herself, her hair tied up in a towel. “Oh god,” she said, looking at her swollen eyes and splotchy skin.

  She shook her head, brushing her teeth quickly. He had seen her like that. She looked awful. A complete, ugly mess. And he had seen that.

  She made her way to his bedroom, wrapped in a towel and realizing she actually didn't have any clean clothes left. Because that would be a little too easy.

  His room was large, dominated by a massive kind sized bed with deep gray sheets and blankets. The walls were painted a light gray and there was another massive television on the wall across from it. She walked over to his closet, deciding she was just going to have to steal something from him until she could wash her own.

  Opening it, she found that he had shoved all of his shoes to one side, in a haphazard pile and he had pushed all his shirts on hangers to the same side. He had made room for her to hang her clothes. Because he had seen she had hung her clothes up at the hotel. She didn't think she had ever met a man who paid such close attention to the little things. Maybe it came from his extensive history with women. Leaning that, for most women, it was all about the little things.

  She flipped through his clothes, deciding on a black t-shirt that would fit her like a dress. Rummaging through her bag, she found clean panties. Which, thankfully, she had packed more than enough of. She slipped out of the towel and into her new clothes and made her way toward the bed.

  The sheets had the lingering scent of disinfectant spray and she snuggled into them. It was something her mother had always done when she had changed the beds: sprayed the fresh sheets with disinfectant spray. It was an odd habit she had never fully understood. But the scent reminded her of home and she found it unbelievably comforting.

  She wondered fleetingly as she reached for the remote control if it was a habit Eric had picked up from his own mother. Or father. Or had there been some kind of aunt or cleaning lady. It certainly wasn't a thing a young boy would have thought to do on his own.

  Lena flicked mindlessly through the channels, finding he had more than could ever be necessary. She was tired. The heaviness weighing on her eyes, sinking into her bones. But she laid there for a long time, half-watching an old rerun and half contemplating what a strange thing it was what was going on in her life.

  She was staying in the bed of a man who had made it very clear that he had it in his head that he was going to sleep with her. Casually. Because he knew she was bound to leave in a matter of days. But she was laying there alone. And he had pledged to spend the next few nights in his own house... sleeping on the couch.

  It hadn't even occurred to her to worry about the situation before. She was too wrapped up in her work and banishment drama to consider what it meant that she would be staying with Eric.

  Because as history had shown her, she had very little self-control around him.

  Would he go out of his way to just be cordial, to give her distance? Or would he be his usual self? With all the touchy-feel-y stuff and his startling gazes and his compliments, and his innuendos.

  Somehow she doubted he could turn all of that off. It was too much a part of him. He couldn't exactly help it if he was a flirt. Any more than she could help it that she was so uptight.

  And now she had no way to get away from him. No hotel room to lock herself away in. No windows to shut in his face.

  But, if she were being honest with herself, she didn't want to run away from him. Because she was starting to see the side of Eric that had made Anna consider him. He was kind and thoughtful. He hadn't judged her.

  And then, of course, there was all the amazing, knee-knocking charm.

  She couldn't imagine spending several days in cramped quarters without something happening between them. Without a slight touch to her hair or her hip turning into a kiss. Which turned into touching. Which turned into rolling around on his giant bed and...

  Lena took a deep breath, trying to push the image away. She curled up onto her side, clutching a pillow to her chest, and closing her eyes.

  The last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep was that she really sort-of wished it was Eric she was cuddling with.

  She woke up later, something toying with the ends of her hair. Tickling. Annoying. She swatted at it, grumbling. And then heard someone laughing. Her eyes flew open as she scrambled up into a seated position, rubbing at her sleepy eyes.

  “Easy sweetheart, it's just me,” Eric said, his voice amused. He sat down at the edge of the bed. “You sleep like the dead. I was calling you from the doorway for like five minutes before I finally came in.”

  Lena pushed her damp hair out of her face. “Yeah, I was beat,” she admitted, looking toward the window. “What time is it? How long have I been asleep?”

  “Just a few hours,” he said, reaching out and touching her toes. “It's about noon. I just wanted to come up and tell you that I have to run out for a few hours. One of the farmers needs his tractor looked at. Broken farm equipment is a pretty huge deal this time of year. It really needs to be fixed as soon as...”

  “You don't have to explain,” Lena broke in, realizing he was half-apologizing because he had to abandon her car for a while. But he was right. If the tractor was broken, the farms couldn't be planted, and an entire family's livelihood could be threatened. “Go get their equipment working again so they can get back to work.”

  Eric smiled at her, his eyes thankful that she understood. “Okay. I just wanted to let you know in case you came looking for me.”

  “Thanks,” she smiled.

&n
bsp; “Do you need anything before I head out?”

  “Nope. I think I'm all set.”

  “Okay,” he said, getting up off the bed and making his way to the door. “By the way,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her, his eyes playful. “my shirt looks good on you,” he said and was gone.

  Lena's eyes went wide, looking down at the shirt, bunched up around her upper thighs, almost showing her underwear.

  She climbed quickly out of bed, grabbing a few items of her clothes, intent on hand washing them if she couldn't find a washer somewhere in the apartment. She certainly couldn't go around in Eric's clothes, half naked. It was like asking for trouble.

  Fifteen

  An hour later, she had her clothes hanging from the shower curtain rod, dripping into the tub. Since there was no laundromat in town, she seriously wondered how the man got his clothes cleaned. She couldn't picture Eric scrubbing at his clothes in the sink. So what did he do? Convince some poor widow in town to do it for him?

  Lena wouldn't put that past him.

  She walked into the kitchen, looking fruitlessly through the cabinets. Her stomach had been growling angrily since she got up. She drank coffee until her skin felt like it was buzzing to keep the hunger at bay... but she needed to put some kind of food in soon.

  But there was literally nothing in the cabinets but sugar, baking soda, and vegetable oil. And she had no idea how long Eric was going to be gone. And it wasn't like you could just order take out in Stars Landing and have it delivered to your door.

  Lena sat down on one of the island stools, trying to convince herself she wasn't really that hungry. But it wasn't going to work.

  Maybe the news wouldn't have spread already. Maybe if she threw something decent on and headed into town to grab a few things, she could get back before Emily had a chance to fill everyone in.

  Lena went back into Eric's closet, searching for something to put on that wouldn't swim on her. She eventually settled on one of his ribbed black tank top undershirts and a pair of small-looking lightweight gray sweatpants. It wasn't a good look, but it would have to do.