Page 9 of The Storms Between Us
seven
A Harley.Of course, he rides a damn Harley. Could he be any more of the poster child for a sexy bad boy? I must be hallucinating at this point from exhaustion. I follow closely behind him through town and into a quieter suburban area. I laugh at the rows of colorful townhouses, imagining Everett and Elijah touring them together when they first got here. Both are what you would call "manly" men and I'm sure whoever helped them got a good laugh from it.
We pull up to a light blue colored two-story building and Eli waves, motioning for me to pull into the garage. I squeeze my Jeep as far forward as I can, hoping the trailer isn't sticking outside the door. I see Eli walking up behind the Jeep giving me the thumbs up, so I put it in park and grab the small duffle bag from the backseat that has my essentials in it.
"This all you need for tonight?" He asks, pointing to my bag.
"Yeah, I travel light and I can always come get anything else I need in the morning," I answer with a yawn. He nods and leads the way to the side door after closing and locking the garage. I take a second to take in my surroundings before going inside. This building is obviously old, I would guess late 1800s, but it's been remodeled and well maintained. The landscaping isn't overgrown or neglected, the way many would assume for two bachelors living here.
The door opens into a narrow mudroom where Eli hangs his keys on a hook by the door and takes his heavy leather boots off, pushing them under a bench. I sit down on the bench and untie my vans. This must be something important to Elijah, because Everett has never cared about making a mess.
"I like things to be clean. Less work to keep up with." Elijah says, as if he can read my mind. "It took a few years to train your brother, but eventually he learned," He says with a smirk and I laugh, imagining the two at odds over who's going to clean what over the years.
We walk down the short hallway and into the main living space. The kitchen, dining room, living room, and entry way are all open, no walls separating the areas. A large bar-height island is all that stands between the living room and kitchen. I look around at the masculine but tidy room around me and instantly feel at home. Something about the fact that you could watch TV while you're cooking in the kitchen or having a conversation with somebody who's in the living room gives me major "Friends" vibes and I love it.
"The master bedroom is down here in that back corner," he points to the closed door just past the entryway, "the other two bedrooms and bathrooms are upstairs. We flipped for the master when we moved in and Everett won, so he's there and I'm upstairs. Honestly, all the rooms are big enough to be suites and each has their own bathroom, so you won't have to worry about sharing."
I breathe a sigh of relief at that fact, knowing the chaos that ensued when Everett and I shared a bathroom back home.
"Consider anything here yours. All I ask is if you eat the last of something, write it on the board on the fridge so we can restock."
I nod my head, making a note to find a market tomorrow and pick up a few of my favorite snacks. We stand in comfortable silence for a long minute, both surveying the space around us. Eli picks up my duffle bag from the bar and heads towards the stairs, leaving me with no choice but to follow.
"There's not a lot left to show you up here," he says, motioning around the loft space, "built-in desk over there that we both sometimes use for sketching because it gets great natural light in the middle of the day. But we both have our own drafting tables in our rooms, so you're welcome to it for whatever it is you do. Everett mentioned something about you working for a publishing company?" He asks, and my eyes light up at the mention of my job.
"Yes! I'm so excited to start. It's an indie publishing company that works with independent authors to help them get on their feet when they're starting out. They help connect the authors with marketing resources, bookshops, and even other similar authors to help them grow their reader-base. I was lucky enough to see a flyer for the position at the coffee shop my friend Kelsea worked at back in Durham. A paid internship right after graduation is almost unheard of." He looks at me as if he's hanging on my every word, which surprises me. I thought for sure he would be bored by now with all my book talk.
"It sounds like an excellent opportunity," he says, shaking his head, "but I'm sure luck had nothing to do with it. I'm sure you charmed them all until they just couldn't say no." he says with a soft smile.
I feel the heat rising into my cheeks and I know he's made me blush for the thousandth time tonight. Such a small compliment shouldn't affect me this way, but I find myself thinking I'm glad he finds me charming. I look away, trying to contain my embarrassment, but he reaches a callused hand out to softly grasp my chin. The same jolt of electricity I felt before at the shop races through my skin. He forces my eyes back to his, letting out a small groan when our gazes collide.
"Don't hide that beautiful blush from me. It's hot as fuck, Sunshine." He says, his gaze searing through me like a hot poker. His forwardness makes my core clench and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth.
He quickly drops his hand as if I've burned him, taking a step back. The distance between us suddenly feels like the Grand Canyon. A flood of confusion and disappointment washes over me. Before I can process what just happened, he's already turning around and moving towards another closed door.
He continues the tour as if nothing happened. "The door down that way is mine. Yours is right here." He swings open the door closer to the stairs, revealing a decent sized bedroom. No doubt my queen bed will look pretty small in the space, but I'm glad to see two large windows on the far wall. Having my own bathroom in a house full of boys also doesn't suck. He sets my duffle bag down on the air mattress in the corner, but before I can turn around to thank him, Eli is gone. The only noise I hear is the sound of his bedroom door closing with a little more force than necessary.
Choosing to ignore his mood swings, I change into my comfy sleep shorts, take off my bra, and crash hard.
