Page 23 of Beat around the Bush
“Sorry.”
I shook my head, closing the distance and taking a seat next to her. I kept a foot of space between us, not wanting to give her the impression I wanted to do anything more. My only desire right now was to make sure she got into bed and remembered to lock her front door.
I glanced over at her to find her looking down at her covered hands. “Why do you do that?”
“Apologize?”
“Yeah.”
She pulled at the edge of her sleeve before answering, “I guess I’m just used to it.”
I watched her, keeping silent as I waited for her to elaborate.
“My dad has this thing about perfectionism that put some pretty high expectations on me, so every little thing… I just apologize.”
It made sense. If my parents had high standards for me, I’d probably get in the habit of doing the same, but that didn’t mean it was right. She shouldn’t apologize for being herself or having her own way of doing things.
Figuring she’d probably appreciate a subject change, I asked, “Do you have a heater in here?” It wasn’t much warmer in here than it was outside and that didn’t sit right with me.
She looked down at her fingers, picking at a spot on her thumb. “I do.”
“Do you want me to turn it on?”
“I can’t really afford the gas bill right now,” she admitted quietly.
I leaned back against the couch, draping an arm over the back. “Do you need an advance in your paycheck?”
Her gaze shot to me. “No. You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine until my first paycheck comes in.”
I nodded, not believing that for a minute. She must have left Denver in a hurry, because it was obvious she had no money saved, and no plan in place when she ended up here.
She grabbed the wool pillow from beside her on the couch and laid her head on it, curling her legs up so they didn’t touch me. I felt bad that she was laying on the couch. She should get some rest in her actual bed, not on the couch just because I was here. I watched her for a minute, appreciating the simplicity of this moment. I shouldn’t want to take care of her but, fuck, Iwantedto.
“Oak.”
Her eyes were closed, giving no indication that she heard me.
“Oakley,” I said.
Nothing.
I stood up and came over to kneel in front of her, my eyes landing on her slightly parted lips as her breathing deepened with sleep. The alcohol must have pulled her under quick. Feeling bad if I woke her, I gently slid my arms under her body, lifting her from the couch. She groaned as I cradled her to my chest, walking over to what I assumed was her bedroom door.
I nudged it open with my boot, not bothering with a light since the one in the living room illuminated the space enoughto see where I was going. Bending down, I pulled back the comforter and laid her on the bed, pulling the blanket over her.
On instinct, she nuzzled into the pillow, her amber hair bright against the white pillowcase even in the dark. My hand reached up to brush the strands out of her face gently so I didn’t wake her.
It wouldn’t work out even if we did end up getting together somehow. I’d never get a lick of sleep with her laying next to me, not with my inability to stop staring at her. Despite my better judgment, I brushed my lips across her temple. Her skin was smooth, and I could smell the sweetness of whatever hair product she used. She was like honey in coffee, a sweetness against the bitterness.
Standing, I headed out of the room, closing her bedroom door with a silent click. I searched the walls for the thermostat. Once I found it, I pressed a few buttons, turning on the heat. It read that it was forty-nine degrees in here. That was too damn cold for me to be comfortable with. I couldn’t leave her in this little house knowing she was cold. I’d pay the damn gas bill if I had to.
Crossing to the kitchen, I found a sticky note and pen in one of the drawers. I began writing, but thought better of what I wrote and scrapped it, crumpling it in a little ball and opening the trash can to throw it away. I paused, seeing that her trash was full of ramen noodle containers. My heart squeezed thinking this was all she was surviving off of right now.
I turned back to the paper and wrote a short message, leaving it in the middle of the counter so she’d see it, then pulled out my wallet, setting some cash on the counter.
I hoped she didn’t take it the wrong way and used it to get a decent breakfast tomorrow. Sodium-filled noodles wouldn’t give her any energy or vitamins or anything her body needed to thrive.
Before I could talk myself out of leaving, I headed for her front door, grabbing her keys on my way. I locked the door behind me and headed for my truck.
