I pull out a small, ancient key. “A chastity belt?” I smile.
“Now, there’s an idea,” he says, chuckling. “Take another guess.”
I sigh. I have other games in mind.
“Come on.” He moves to the side and, with two fingers, moves my chin slightly to the side, so my gaze is on—
“The hidden staircase?” I gasp.
He grunts and pulls me fully off the bed, his hand on the small of my back, leading me to the narrow door. “You decide,” he says, “when you want to keep it locked or open it for me. Yeah?”
I’m too overwhelmed to answer. The door opens softly when I turn the key, revealing a wooden spiral staircase. I stroke its handrail, softened by use, and set a foot on the first carpeted step, then the next. Recessed lighting turns on as I progress down, the old steps creaking softly under my weight.
“My bedroom door is locked,” Christopher says. “Skye sometimes comes in when she has a nightmare or whatever. I can’t have you down there.” I see the door to his room, now, and retreat back upstairs, unable to meet his eyes.
“I have to head back downstairs,” he says. He trails his lips across mine, my arousal increasing as his stubble grates on me. “See you at dinner.”
I kiss him back, his full lips leaving me wanting more.
After he’s gone, I fight my sense of overwhelm by grabbing my phone and snapping photos. I love making other people’s work look great, and for now I can put all my questions about Christopher and what he just did for me on the back burner.
I focus on making Autumn’s magic look its best by editing the photos I take. Then I find the accounts she uses for her decorating endeavor, make note of the hashtags that bring her most engagement, and start posting, adding #emeraldcreekvt.
I get lost in the moment as the little hearts start popping up on my screen. I notice the posts I made of Christopher preparing for the baking competition are getting great engagement as well. I need to talk to him about setting up his own online presence.
Before I get down the rabbit hole of posting more about Christopher, I turn my attention back to my room. I fuss in it for a little while, putting my clothes away. Questions start popping up in my mind. When did he start planning this? Why? I could have added a few more comfort touches myself if I wanted to—I had actually planned on doing just that. I noticed pillows at the general store and a pretty vase at the antique shop that was reasonably priced. He didn’t need to do that. Clearly he’d never done it for the other apprentices before me.
Why for me?
I’m afraid of the answer.
I’m afraid I’m misreading him.
He said it was nothing, a bunch of old stuff.
He said we were just having fun until I leave.
But it doesn’t feel like that to me. It’s more like he wants me to feel at home here.
Is that what it means to him, or is he just feeling pressure from the gossip about this supposedly being an attic?
I should call Sarah to hash it out with her, but I know I’ll get overly positive, sunshine-and-butterflies, diamonds-in-the-sky answers.
I’m not this person Sarah thinks I am. I don’t deserve what Christopher is giving me.
I need to talk to someone who understands that.
I fetch my phone and hit Barbie Doll on the screen. Barbara is a little woo-woo and flower power and stuff, but she’s always given me solid advice.
So I call her.
twenty-three
Alexandra
“He did what?” Barbara asks. She is in her seventies, but she has a young voice. I picture her sitting in the lotus position in the zen room of her Village flat. Outside of Red Barn, she’s a total hippie. Nothing normally surprises her.
“You heard me. He totally decorated my room. Furnished it. Hold on.” I switch the call to video to show her around.