No Ordinary Home

It was time for her to hit the road. Before she did, she was taking one more shower and washing her hair again, just for the pure pleasure of it.

She didn’t say a word when she passed Austin and closed the door behind her. Neither did he.

Did he feel as awkward as she did?

She had gone to bed with a stranger, and had awakened in his arms. Oh, those arms. Oh, that warm touch.

Get a grip, Gracie.

As though she might not be able to use conditioner for another year, she slathered it on, even though her hair was short. She cut it regularly. Herself. It showed.

When she finished washing and dressing, she forced herself to look in the mirror. Austin’s body had reacted to her purely as any man’s would to waking up with any woman. What man would want her—an escapee from a Charles Dickens novel, a waif with big eyes in a too-narrow face, who wore ragged clothing and picked pockets for a living? Well, not for a living, but that was what she’d done to Austin yesterday.

Too bad he’d been a cop.

Too bad he was a decent guy.

She’d met every kind of person on the road. She could have stolen a wallet from a jerk, but no, she had unwittingly dipped her fingers into the pocket of the most decent guy she’d met in years. And, in the space of twenty-four hours, she already liked him.

Don’t go getting any ideas. It’s because he didn’t have you arrested when he could have. This is nothing more than gratitude, pure and simple.

Even so, she liked him more than she should, and far too quickly. Holy crapola. She needed to get away from him.

She left the bathroom to find Austin already packed and on the phone.

“Okay, we’ll see you in fifteen minutes.” He hung up.

He turned from the window. “Good morning.”

She said the same thing, just as quietly.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“What else is new?” he teased, as though they were good friends used to ribbing each other. “Come on. Let’s get going. Finn’s waiting.”

“Go where?”

“To breakfast.”

“You know I don’t have money. You fed me yesterday and last night and paid for this hotel room. I can’t take any more from you.”

“What are you going to do about breakfast?”

“Nothing.”

“Listen, I’m not going to let you walk away hungry. It isn’t in me to do that.”

She wanted food. She wanted what this man had to offer with no strings attached. He’d sure proven his decency last night. She’d curled against him and he hadn’t taken advantage. Other men would have. But it hurt to take, to compromise her independence. She couldn’t do it.

“It’s too hard for me to keep taking from you. I’ll go for breakfast—thanks—but only if we come back here afterward and you let me give you the haircut I promised.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving ridges in the damp waves. “That bad, huh?”

No. Not bad at all. “A bit.” She liked it long, but needed to give him something and this was all she had to offer.

“Okay.” He stuck out his hand to shake. “Deal.”

She took it with a sigh, relief flooding her. She didn’t like dealing with people, didn’t like owing, and no longer liked giving. Her current motto, Live and let live, and leave me alone, had served her well for six years. No need to change it now.

She would cut his hair, then leave. Run. Get away from this guy who tempted her with possibilities that just couldn’t be.

He zipped up his bag. “I’m done packing. Let’s go.”

“What about your other stuff?” she asked.

“What stuff?”

“The shampoo and conditioner, the body wash and toothpaste you bought yesterday.”

“Those are yours.”

“Mine?” she squeaked. Whole bottles. Not samples she managed to pick up at drug stores. Or tiny travel bottles that lasted through two shampoos.

“You think I want to walk around smelling like coconut and pineapples and strawberries? Go get it and pack it.”

Feet on fire, she scrambled back to the bathroom. No way was she leaving anything behind. She picked up everything he’d bought, but also took the bottles provided by the hotel. In the garbage can, she found the paper from the tiny bar of hotel soap and wrapped the bit that was left after Austin had used it. Waste not, want not.

It all went into her backpack.

When she left the room, he said, “You don’t have to carry that with you. We’ll be coming back after breakfast to check out.”

“This goes with me. I take it everywhere.”

“The room will be locked.”

“It goes with me.” It was a point on which she never compromised. Everything she owned was in her bag. Like a turtle, she carried her home with her. It wasn’t much, and it was cheap stuff, but it was all she had.

She walked with him out of the hotel and down the street until they stopped in front of a Mexican restaurant.

“Is this the one you mentioned last night?”

“Yep.”

“I’m going to order enchiladas.”

“I don’t know. It’s breakfast. You might want huevos rancheros.”