Page 4 of Big Gruff Owner

Before I can even process what’s happening, there’s a loud knock at the front door, and I freeze. Who would be knocking at this hour? I hesitate for a second, but the knocking grows more incessant and then I hear a loud male voice.

“Sadie? It’s Nathan. Are you okay?” Nathan calls through the door.

“I’m coming!” I holler back, hoping my voice is loud enough to be heard from upstairs and through a door.

My heart still races as I swing my legs out of my bed and stumble through the dark down the stairs and to the door. I pull the door open, cutting off another round of knocking. The moment he sees me, he pushes past me his face hard set and his eyes scanning the dark space. Seeing nothing he whips back to me.

“What’s wrong? Why did you scream?” he asks, his voice heavy with sleep, so low and gravelly, it makes my stomach do a little flip.

“The lights went out.” I point to the light switch in the entryway and he flicks it, frowning when nothing happens.

“That’s what made you scream like that?” He gives me a look like he’s not sure if I’m joking.

I feel my face heat up with embarrassment. “I’m…I’m just not used to being alone, and I’m scared of the dark,” I admit, feeling like an absolute child.

He softens a bit, though he still looks serious. He looks around the dark room, the only light streaming from the open front door that lets in porch light from his side of the duplex.

“Come on,” he commands, leading me outside to the porch. The warm glow of his porchlight is a relief, but it does nothing to ease the awkwardness I feel for acting like a scared little girl.

“I’m sorry for bothering you.” I chew at my bottom lip as he turns back to face me. His brown gaze flickers to my mouth and then back to my eyes.

“Don’t be.” He points to the rocking chair. “Sit. I’ll go around back and check the fuse box.”

I follow directions, folding myself into the chair, and pulling my knees to my chest. He jogs off the porch and disappears into the darkness around the duplex. I’m there for a few minutes when I hear his footsteps and then he reappears, shutting off his phone’s flashlight as he climbs the porch steps.

“I can’t fix it tonight,” he announces, and I nod, trying to put on a brave face.

“That’s fine,” I say, even though the thought of going back inside that pitch-black townhouse makes my stomach turn. We stand there in silence for a moment, and I’m about to tell him I’ll just go to bed when he surprises me.

“You can stay at my place tonight,” he offers, his tone so casual it takes a second for the words to register.

“What?” I blink up at him, not sure if I heard him right.

He gestures toward his townhouse next door. “I’ve got a spare room, and the power’s still on over there. It’s up to you.”

I know I should say no. It’s inappropriate, isn’t it? I mean, he’s my landlord, and I barely know him. But the thought of staying here, alone in the dark, is more than I can handle right now. Plus, the idea of being in his space, being around him for any period of time is well worth it to me.

“Okay,” I say softly. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Sadie.” The way he says my name sends a tingle through me. He pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight, shining it into the house. “Let’s grab your phone and house keys. You can grab anything else you need to stay at my place for the night.”

He leads me back inside and I follow him closely. It doesn’t take long for me to grab my stuff and soon we’re headed back out the door, the night air cool against my skin as we walk the few steps to his front door. He opens it and gestures for me to go in first. His lights are dimmed, but on and the warmth of his place hits me immediately.

A second later the scent of him fills my nose and I have to resist the urge to take a deep breath just to absorb more of the faint scent of something woodsy and masculine. It’s comforting in a way I didn’t expect.

“Make yourself at home,” he says, flipping on a few more lights. His house is neat, almost overly so. There’s not a hint of decoration to it and if it weren’t for the small touches of him—black boots at the door, a newspaper on the counter—you’d think it was a show home.

I stand there awkwardly in the entryway, not sure where to go or what to do.

“You can take my bed,” he tells me, nodding toward a doorway down the hall. “I’ll crash on the couch.”

I glance at the couch. It’s nice enough, but it doesn’t look nearly big enough for someone his size. At five foot two he towers more than a head over me. There’s no way that would be comfortable.

“I can’t kick you out of your bed,” I protest. “Besides, you’re too tall to sleep on that couch.”

He shrugs. “I’ll manage.”

“No, really, it’s fine. I’ll take the couch.”

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