Page 16 of The Cartographer

“Do you mind if I tell you to fuck off if I don’t want to answer?”

“No need to be rude, Hart. But no, I don’t mind. I’ve heard far worse.”

The light turns green, and I accelerate through the intersection back toward San Francisco.

“How do you have a truck but not an apartment?”

I can’t tell exactly what emotions make up the expression on his face, but I don’t think it’s ever been so clear someone thinks I’m a fucking idiot.

“I didn’t have enough to pay all my bills. Gotta pay my phone so I can keep in touch with my family, especially Kendra. Apartment’s not cheap, and if I have to choose between making my rent and my car payment, I’m going with the truck because you can sleep in a truck but you can’t drive an apartment.”

“What about public transit?”

“You think it’s easy to find a job?”

I keep my face shut on that one because I’ve been doing the same thing since I was in college. I’ve never had to even try to find employment. Mine’s lucrative and my clients come to me. Even if things hadn’t worked out as they have, I’d have had a pretty sweet trust fund to fall back on should anything have gone to shit. It never has.

“It’s even harder when you have to limit yourself to places you can get on BART or the bus. I don’t have time to be spending two hours commuting every morning. Besides, if Kendra or the kids need me, I can be there quicker this way.”

“Why don’t you stay with your sister?”

His brow wrinkles, and his mouth tightens. “I do sometimes. If she knew I was sleeping in my truck, she wouldn’t let me out of her house. Her place is pretty tight already, though, and it’s not fair to the kids. They shouldn’t have to double up in a twin bed because I fucked up. I tell Kendra I’m staying with friends, and she doesn’t ask a lot of questions.”

At least that’ll be true tonight.

“Do you have a job?” I venture. Again, not that I care, but I’m trying to put the pieces together.

“I got let go a few months ago. Construction’s not what it used to be. Trying to find something that’ll still let me help Kendra out if she needs me to watch the kids is rough.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, but I don’t know what I’d do if I were in his position. Most likely panic. But it’s such a remote possibility I’ve never had to seriously consider it. Even if I lost everything tomorrow, I have dozens of people who owe me favors, and India would come up here and drag me down to San Diego herself to stay with her until I could find my bearings again. Hart doesn’t have that kind of backstop. If anything, it sounds like heisthe backstop.

It makes me like him even better, that he would be so loyal and self-sacrificing for his family. It also makes me want to stand between him and the world and make this not be an issue anymore. I highly doubt he’d let me do that, though, and I’ll be respectful of his wishes. Honor’s important to a man like Allie, and I bet he’d do without anything else before he’d do without that.

We pull up near my house, and I show him to the door. He stands by while I unlock the place and then follows me inside. In the foyer, he looks around. I know what he’s seeing: a long hallway that goes back to a kitchen, a stairway in the middle that goes both up and down, and doorways that line the hall.

“You live here by yourself?”

It’s the first time I’ve ever been embarrassed by my home. “Mostly. My assistant has a bedroom he makes use of on occasion. He works late a lot.” Allie nods, and I’m thankful he doesn’t ask me exactly how many bedrooms I have. “Here, let me show you where you’ll stay.”

He follows me wordlessly down the hall, up the stairs, and down another hall. The bedroom I show him to is the one next to mine. It’s usually the last one I put guests in, but I want him close to me, even if there’s a wall between us. I stand on the threshold and gesture him in.

“There are towels and toiletries in the bathroom through there.” I gesture to the open door, where anyone would be able to see the bathroom.Super smooth, Walter. Super. Smooth.“Books, magazines, and remotes over there. Read or watch whatever you like. The kitchen downstairs is fully stocked so help yourself. If you go down there in the morning and there’s a lean guy with light brown skin who introduces himself as Matthew, that’s my assistant. If there’s anyone else, scream.”

I get a weak smile, but to be fair, it was a stupid joke. Because home invasions are freaking hilarious. I’m not quite sure what to do now because shaking hands seems ridiculous and he might punch me if I tried to give him a hug, but walking away seems weird. This is not going at all how I anticipated.

“I’m next door if you need anything. Goodnight, Hart.”

Chapter Six

‡

Iexpect Allieto be long gone in the morning, but when I make my way downstairs, he’s perched at the breakfast bar in a clean shirt and the same jeans from last night, chatting with Matthew.

They both turn when I walk in the room, and the sight makes me happy. Two of the most handsome men in the world are in my kitchen. Mine. Hart actually smiles at me, which is surprising, but in the best of ways. Makes my heart kick.

“Your assistant makes damn good pancakes.” He stops to shove another bite in his mouth, chewing with great gusto. I love how much he loves food. Makes me want to feed and nourish him.

“He makes damn good everything.” Except paella. It always comes out crunchy for some reason. I won’t mention that, though, because it would embarrass Matthew. Instead, there’s a faint blush of pleasure on his cheeks as he flips another pancake on the griddle.

---