Page 28 of Ordinary Secrets

“You cold?” he asks.

“Kind of.” Although I do get chilly easily, it feels like Trey’s got his air conditioning extremely high. I suppose he can afford it. I mean, look at this place.

He shuts the stove off, moves the pan off the heat, then pads down the hall. Within seconds, the air conditioning stops humming.

“You didn’t have to turn the air off just for me,” I say when he comes back. In his arms is a throw blanket, which he drapes around my shoulders. My body betrays me again as my heart dances around from his nearness. I’m beginning to think it’s impossible for a woman not to react like this around him.

“I wouldn’t want you to turn into a popsicle,” Trey says, and his tender smile makes me smile back.

“You’re probably the only person in California who just turned off their air conditioning in the middle of summer.”

He chuckles and nods. “Probably. I can turn it back on later.”

Concentration is painted over his face as he arranges our food onto square white plates. He sets one in front of me, then one in front of the chair directly on my left. Then he sits there. Oddly, I’m okay with it. A year ago, I would have freaked out. He’s so close that I can smell him. His scent reminds me of the bedsheets I woke up in this morning.

Wait a second...“Hey, if I slept in your bed last night, where didyousleep?”

“The couch.”

Behind us sits a long couch in the massive living room. It faces the huge tinted windows looking out into a cul-de-sac.Why are all his windows tinted?

Maybe Trey’s a drug dealer. He doesn’t want people to be able to look in and see him making his deals. It would explain how he’s got such a nice place. He can’t afford all this on a musician’s salary, can he?

Something about his living room feels off. All he’s got are end tables with lamps on them. No messes of any kind. No clutter. No pictures on the walls. His place looks like a page out of a home décor magazine.

“How many bedrooms do you have?” I ask, then take my first bite of bacon.Mmm.It’s perfect. Soft yet crunchy.

“Four. One master and one music room. Upstairs is my workout room, and the other room sits empty.”

“This seems like a lot of space for one guy.”

“It is. If I could, I’d probably just rent a one-bedroom apartment near a gym. I only bought this house because when we started the band, we needed a place to play, and I figured this was more economical than renting an apartmentandrehearsal space. Then a year later, we got in at the Soul House, and now, I’m stuck with this.”

I glance behind me into his living room again. It hits me why it looks odd. “Where’s your TV?”

“Don’t have one.”

I consume the rest of my delicious bacon strip in one breath. Apparently, I have no self-control.Is there such a thing as self-control when it comes to bacon? “Are you not a TV person?”

“I didn’t have a TV growing up.” His face falls for a second before he flashes me a fake smile. “Anyway, your car is in my driveway. Our security manager drove it here for you last night.”

“Really?” I hop off my seat to look out the window. Sure enough, there’s my white Civic next to Trey’s black Lexus—another item that seems outside of his musician salary. He can’t be getting paidthatmuch, can he? He has to be doing something else.

I return to my chair and readjust the blanket over my shoulders. “Thanks, Trey. Seriously.”

“Like I said, no problem.” He continues eating his eggs as if helping me with a flat tire, saving me from getting kidnapped, then making me breakfast—all within three days—is nothing.

“Is there anything I can do for you in return?”

“Nah.” He waves a hand through the air. “It’s all good.”

I feel like I owe him, although I don’t know what I can get for a guy who seems to have everything yet nothing at the same time. If I could, I’d get him some pictures of his family to hang on the walls. It would add some life to this place.

“Do you have any siblings?” I ask, then take a bite of my toast.

“Nope. You?”

“Me neither. I’d probably have siblings if my parents didn’t pass away so young.”

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