Page 43 of Summer People
Unsure of how to respond, I guide her across the yard silently.
As we step into my house, I nod at the stairs. “You can stay in my room.”
Her blue eyes narrow, and she takes a half a step away.
I bite back a chuckle. “I’ll be on the couch.”
“Your house only has two bedrooms?” She scans the main living area. She’s been in here before. She knows this house and hers have the same footprint.
“My office,” I mutter as I herd her toward the stairs.
“Is there a Mrs. Fisher I should be worried about?”
My muscles go taut, and though I shouldn’t be upset that she’d think so little of me, there’s no denying the anger that ripples through my body. I pull in a breath through my nose andturn back to her. “Do you think I’m the type of man who would dance with a woman, then offer her my bed if I wasmarried?”
Jesus. I may not possess the social skills most people do, but I’m not oblivious to what’s appropriate and what’s not, and I’m not an asshole.
Lips pressed together, she focuses on a picture of Sutton and Marissa on the mantel.
That’s when it all clicks.
“That’s my sister-in-law.” I scratch at the back of my neck, willing the unease creeping through me to abate. “She and my brother died a few years ago.”
Libby’s breath hitches, but rather than respond, she silently surveys the room.
“So,” I say, eager to move on, “this way?”
At the top of the stairs, she turns toward my open office door. My gut sinks. Shit. Will she be upset about the camera I have pointed at her house?
A relieved breath escapes me when I peek into the room behind her and discover the screen protectors have kicked on. All she can see is the white ball bouncing around the black screen, and without my fingerprint, the computer can’t be unlocked.
That little scare should encourage me to mention the cameras I plan to install, but it’s late, and after the stress of the last thirty minutes, I figure it can wait until morning.
Bing slinks down the hall, and after a quick pat to his back, I tiptoe to Sutton’s room. Everything settles inside me when I find her curled up and sleeping soundly under her pink quilt.
“That’s a lot of screens,” Libby says as I step back into my office.
Again, I decide not to lie. “When working through multiple firewalls, it’s easier to have multiple portals open.”
She licks her lips, her attention darting away from me. “What do you do exactly?”
I shrug. “Fuck with people and make their days miserable.”
Her lips part, but before she can respond, a yawn cuts her off.
“Come on, Princess. Let’s get you into bed.” I lead her to my bedroom and pull back the comforter.
She’s frozen in the doorway, her eyes bouncing from the watercolors on the walls, to the thick blue plaid bedding, to the matching drapes. That’s all there is to see here. The space looks exactly like it did when it was a guest room. The only difference is the closet and dressers are now full of my clothes.
“There’s an extra blanket on the rack.” I tip my head to the navy quilt.
Bing jumps up onto the bed, ready to make himself at home.
“Down.”
“No,” Libby says, taking a hesitant step forward. “He can stay.”
“Be aware,” I warn, “he’s a bed hog.”
