he sent her invited her to share in his amusement. He swung his large head around to check out the central foyer, while expertly rocking his son’s carrier. The stairs to her place were to the left. His front door was underneath the staircase.
“Would you mind showing me the way to my place? It’s been a long day and I’d like to get settled in as quickly as possible.”
“Of course.” She matched his brisk tone. “Follow me.”
When she’d arrived to claim the house she’d inherited, she’d been surprised to see it had been built as two separate living areas. Both the top floor and the bottom were self-contained dwellings, each with their own kitchen and bathrooms. She’d claimed the top floor. Years of living in the city had taught her she’d be safer there. And the bottom floor she’d rented out to him, her very first tenant ever.
Luckily, the top floor had its own separate entrance, so they’d both have plenty of privacy. And she would have some income to tide her over until she figured out exactly what she wanted to do.
“You’ll have the entire bottom floor,” she said, opening his front door and stepping aside. “Here it is. All yours.”
Still bouncing the baby, he pushed past her and stopped, turning in a half circle to take it all in.
“Wow.” His deep laugh reminded her of hot cocoa spiced with Kahlúa. “When you said it came furnished, I was relieved. I confess, I actually pictured Ikea or maybe an eclectic mix of garage sale and discount store. What I didn’t envision was this. It’s very...” Words seemed to fail him.
“Old lady-ish?” she suggested helpfully, unable to keep from smiling. “All of this stuff belonged to my great-aunt Olivia.” She didn’t tell him the reason she’d kept the fussy, outdated furniture was because she not only didn’t have any of her own, but currently didn’t have the funds to replace it.
“I see,” he said, eyeing a particularly delicate looking chair. “To be honest, I’m afraid I’ll break that if I sit in it.”
She had to admit he was probably right. “I’ll switch it out with something else,” she said, trying to sound businesslike. “Here are your keys.”
When she went to hand them off, her fingers brushed his. Damn. A curious swooping pull swept through her, momentarily making her head spin.
“Are you all right?” he asked yet again, watching her closely, as if he expected her to fall over in a dead faint at any second.
“Yes.” Biting back her second almost automatic apology, she forced a smile. Life with Shawn had compelled her to apologize for everything, even stuff that wasn’t her fault. She’d been consciously trying to break the habit ever since she’d gotten free.
“I guess I’d better leave you to it,” she continued brightly. “I’m just upstairs if you need anything.”
He nodded. “I’ve got your number, as well. Thank you for everything.” As she moved back out into their shared foyer, he firmly and quietly closed his door. A second later, she heard the sound of the dead bolt clicking into place. She couldn’t help but wish she’d dream of him once she went to sleep.
* * *
Exhaustion had Eric wishing he could undress and crawl into bed, but little Garth would need a diaper change and some formula first. Shame about the landlord woman. Though she really was stunning with her fiery red hair, large green eyes and curvy body, she seemed a little daft in the head. The way she’d eyed his baby—as if she’d like to eat him up—had worried Eric. Had he escaped one crazy woman only to relocate with another?
Surely not. Most likely, he was overreacting out of fear. Still, just in case, until he knew her better, he’d make sure to keep his distance.
After he got Garth cleaned up, fed and burped, and put down for a nap, he finally rummaged in his backpack for the sandwich he’d bought at the last gas station. It had gotten crushed and didn’t look the least bit appetizing, but was still cold. He wolfed it down in four bites, wishing he’d had the foresight to buy two. Tomorrow, he’d stock up on food, but for now he had enough of the two things that really mattered—formula and diapers. He had a portable crib in the back of his SUV and the rest of his things would be arriving as soon as the transport company got there.
The one thing he worried most about was his other car. The one he didn’t want to take a chance on damaging by driving cross-country. And he sure as hell wouldn’t be taking it out on icy roads recently coated with salt. He’d park it until the winter season had long passed. Late spring, at the earliest.
One of the reasons he’d chosen to rent this place over the others was that it came with a garage. According to the lease, his landlord got one side of the two-car, detached garage and he got the other. He didn’t plan to use it for the SUV he’d driven across the country. No. He planned to store the 1969 Camaro SS he’d lovingly restored inside his slot in the garage. That car would be his advertisement for the business he planned to start.
Even in California, where customized hot rods were a dime a dozen, his car turned heads. He’d been asked several times where he’d had the work done. Plenty of people had wanted to hire him when he’d told them he’d done it himself. They’d been shocked to learn he worked as a college professor and that he’d restored the car as a hobby. He’d come to realize he might be able to do something he loved and actually earn a living at it. He’d started saving every penny he could, in the hope that one day he could actually start his own business. He’d just about had enough to get serious when Yolanda had gotten pregnant.
And then his life had gone to hell in a handbasket.
No sense in dwelling on the past. Tonight was the first night in his new home and tomorrow would be literally the first day of the rest of his new life. A life where he could keep Garth safe. A life where, hopefully, he could settle in, make friends, get his business established, and find peace and joy again.
The snow continued to fall all through the night. Eric knew because, restless, he got up several times to peer out the window to where the streetlight illuminated the now impassable street. The little house was snug—he’d give it that. No leaky windows, and the radiators put out plenty of heat. He felt cozy and oddly at peace, something he hadn’t quite expected when he’d chucked his entire life and took off to start a new one on the opposite side of the country.
Now he suspected he knew what people who went into the Witness Protection Program felt like. Adrift, needing an anchor, but afraid to put down deep roots in case they needed to move on again. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be the case here. No way would anyone—especially his ex—think to look for him this far from sunny California.
Finally, sometime around six, he got up, blinking at the brightness from the snow outside, and began puttering around his new living space. The old furniture reminded him of his maternal grandmother’s house—fussy fabrics, lots of dark wood and elaborate ornamentation. He suspected there would have been a plethora of knickknacks covering every conceivable service, which Julia Jacobs had most likely cleared out once she’d arrived. The dark wood gleamed, evidently having recently been dusted and polished, and the space he’d rented looked clean.
Garth woke and Eric got busy changing his boy’s diaper and warming formula so the little guy could have breakfast. Early on Eric had felt a sense of pride at the fact that he’d gotten quite adept at these basic parenting tasks, an accomplishment that had once both amazed and amused him. Now, taking care of his three-month-old was routine, second
