Page 83 of The Pucking Wrong Man

I was quiet as I took in the bedroom, gingerly stepping inside.

It was like stepping into a dream.

The bed was massive, with a fluffy white comforter and a mountain of pillows that looked like clouds. Soft, warm light filled the room from elegant lamps on the nightstands. A large window overlooked the city, and I took a few steps toward it, gaping at the buildings laid before me. Tears were in my eyes as I stepped back and admired the plush rug on the floor, and the cozy armchair in the corner with a small bookshelf next to it. Everything was...perfect.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, wiping my eyes, completely embarrassed at the tears trying to find their way down my cheeks.

He hesitated for a moment, and then he was striding toward me, gathering me in his arms, and pressing my face against his chest so I could breathe him in.

Safe. The word echoed in my mind.

Had I ever felt safe like this before? Like my mind and my soul and my heart could actually take a breath?

I never wanted to leave his arms, and when he finally let me go, an embarrassing squeak escaped my mouth.

Camden James must have been a saint because he pretended he didn’t hear it.

“There’s a toothbrush and towels in the bathroom. You should jump in the shower to try and warm up. I’ll bring you some of my world famous hot chocolate and have it waiting for you.”

“World famous, huh?” I teased, managing to collect myself at least a little.

“Most definitely,” he responded, a glimmer of amusement in his gaze that did funny things to my insides.

We stood there for one more long beat of silence, staring at each other. “I’ll leave you to it,” he finally said in a gruff voice as he backed out of the room like it was a struggle for him to turn away from me. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Wait!” I called, and his head quickly poked back into the room.

“Everything okay?” he asked, concerned.

“Thank you,” I said in a trembling voice. “Thank you for saving me.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his face tense, like he was struggling with something. “Always,” he finally responded, before he closed the door behind him...and I instantly missed him.

But then, I turned to stare at the room one more time. I wanted to jump on the bed, beat on my chest, scream in exaltation.

But I also didn’t want to ruin the bed with my dumpster filth.

Shower it was.

It took me at least three minutes to figure out how to work it. There were three different showerheads and a bunch of buttons because evidently rich people didn’t clean themselves like the rest of us mere mortals. There were things like steam and bubbles, and one button was even hot air that dried off your body like those air dryers in the bathroom.

I sighed as the water caressed my body. I only ever showered at the dance studio, not wanting to risk taking off my clothes at the shelter in case they were stolen or someone decided to have some fun with me.

Staring at the expensive marble tile and the soap that smelled like jasmine…I suddenly felt so unworthy of all of this.

Maybe, it would have been better if he’d left me in that alley. I was going to have to leave tomorrow and find a new shelter.

And now I’d have this place to compare it to.

Once I was clean, I shut off the shower and slipped a towel around my body—wow. The towel bar had been heating the towel. It was like stepping into a warm hug.

In the past, I would have told myself that someday I would have a place like this, when I was a famous ballerina and the world had become my stage.

That dream had faded. The ache in my leg that never went away had chipped at that dream every day until I didn’t believe in it anymore.

There was a frown on my face as I stared in the mirror and I wiped it away. I had nothing at the moment to frown about.

Tonight, tonight I could pretend my life was good.

---