SWNOVELS When He Desires: Chapter 16
The day doesn’t seem to ever end. After Brett leaves, one of the firefighters accompanies me inside the house so that I can grab some clothes and essential items. I take the first things I can find in my bedroom and get out of there. I’m just not emotionally ready to face the damage head-on today.
I wait until the fire department finishes their investigation, confirming the fire most likely spread from an unattended fireplace, and provide my statement.
“I was sure the darned thing went out,” I say to the fire marshal.
“Did you stir the ashes? Sprinkle some water on them?”
“Well, no,” I admit sheepishly. I was too damn tired to do all that.
“Sometimes the fire might look like it’s out, but the embers are still burning, and it can reignite.”
“That must have been what happened.”
While Rowan goes to board up the broken windows, I go back to his place and call Del to fill her in on what happened. The only thing I leave out is my fake dating agreement with Rowan, because I don’t want him walking in while I’m freaking out about it with Del.
A fake relationship.
This is going to be interesting.
I set my phone on the coffee table in the living room and glance around—actually taking in my surroundings for the first time.
This place isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It’s been what…two weeks since Rowan moved in? He’s done a damn good job sprucing this place up.
If this is where I’ll be living for the next little while, I might as well look around.
The living room and kitchen have been repainted, the kitchen cabinets look brand new, and the hardwood floor has a gorgeous shine that can only be a result of a recent refinishing. I’ve seen some contractors coming and going, so it’s not like he’s done all of this himself, but still, the man gets shit done. I’ll give him that.
He must’ve also worked on at least a few of the bedrooms if he’s got a room for me. Down here, it seems like it’s just the master bedroom—the one he sleeps in—but there’s probably two or three more upstairs.
I’m torn between wanting to go up there and feeling like I might be overstepping.
Better wait for him to come back and show me around.
I sit down on the sofa and moan with relief. Now that the adrenaline has finally left my system, I’m exhausted.
God, this sofa is comfy. My body melts into the cushions, and my eyelids grow heavy. I’m exhausted. I could probably pass out right now…
Clank.
I startle from the sound and sit up. My throat is dry, and my head feels like it’s filled with cotton. I must have fallen asleep.
My eyes land on Rowan and the bowl of pasta he just placed on the coffee table in front of me.
“Eat.”
He’s standing on the other side of the table, clad in jeans and a black T-shirt that molds to his muscular chest entirely too well.
“You changed,” I mumble, my voice still hoarse with sleep.
He glances down at himself. “A while back. I was covered in ash after boarding up the windows.”
Right. He was doing me another favor while I was on his couch napping. My cheeks heat. “What time is it?”
“Just past seven.”
“I was out for hours,” I moan. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. You were exhausted.”
“I still am.”
“Then eat and go to bed.”
I pick up the bowl. The pasta smells amazing. It looks like pasta carbonara, which isn’t the kind of thing you can make out of a box. “Did you make this?”
He hands me a fork. “Try it.”
I twirl the spaghetti around my fork and take a bite. My tastebuds explode. “Oh Lord, this is good.”
Rowan’s lips twitch. “I feel like I should be offended at how shocked you sound. I told you I’d get you room and board, didn’t I?”
I shove more pasta into my mouth, feeling completely famished. Or maybe it’s just that good.
“This is my nonna’s recipe.”
“I think I’m in love with her.”
He sits down beside me, his own bowl in his hands. It looks tiny in comparison, like it’s a bowl meant for a doll. His T-shirt is just the right amount of tight around his rounded biceps and muscled shoulders.
The masculinity of this man is overwhelming.
I’m also still processing how weirdly…thoughtful he’s being. And decent. He boarded up the windows of my house, and now he’s feeding me? Who is this guy?
My perception of him is shifting in a very dangerous direction.
“You’re not working tomorrow, are you?” he asks.
“It’s my day off, thank God. I’m going to spend all day getting quotes for the repairs. I’ll have to do what I can to secure the house before we get more snow, but fixing up the interior will take a while longer.” The thought of how much the repairs are going to cost fills my lungs with dread. I’ve got a bit saved up, but there’s no chance it’ll be enough. “I’d rather know what kind of financial hit I’m looking at sooner rather than later.”
What if it takes me a year? A whole year of working at Frostbite and dealing with Brett, tightening my belt when it’s already been pretty damn tight.
I swallow down the ball in my throat. One stupid mistake, and all the work I did on the house was for nothing.
“Your financial hit is zero.”
I glance at him. What’s he talking about? “I don’t have insurance. I thought I already told you that.” I take another bite.
His arm brushes against my shoulder as he lifts the fork to his mouth. “I’ll take care of it.”
I nearly choke. “I hope you’re joking.”
“I was the one who suggested starting a fire last night, so I feel responsible. Plus, you’re my woman now, remember? What kind of a shitty boyfriend would I be if I didn’t repair your house for free? I do own a renovation firm, you know.”
His woman? This time, I really do choke on my pasta. Rowan pats my back as I cough.
“What is wrong with you?” I force out when I manage to finally breathe again.
“Weird way to say thanks, Blake.”
I put my bowl down and turn to face him. “You are not repairing my house for free. That’s ludicrous.”
“I’ll get Sam over here in the next day or two to scope out the project.”
My head spins. “Rowan, it’s been a long day. If this is your idea of a joke—”
“Take a deep breath.” His hand appears on my knee. “Like I said, I’ll take care of it all.”
I stand up, needing to put some space between us. I’m starting to believe he’s serious, and I’m having a hard time processing the sudden onslaught of feelings I’m experiencing.
“It’s going to cost a fortune.”
He puts his bowl down beside mine and leans back against the couch, throwing his arm over the back. “I’m doing what any good boyfriend would do.”
“We’re not actually dating.”
“Our agreement is important to me. We need to sell this if it’s going to work. What better way to show how serious I am about you than to work on your house?”
I feel so dizzy that I have to sit back down. “This is nuts. I already told you I’m not good at accepting help, and this is— God, Rowan. I’m not used to someone doing things like this for me.” A mixture of gratefulness and vulnerability swirls inside my lungs.
His gaze burrows into me, intent and unrelenting. “Then you better get used to it, because I take care of what’s mine, Sunshine.”
My pulse picks up speed. There’s something about the sure way those words roll off his lips that makes the hairs on my nape stand up straight.
For a moment, I catch a glimpse of yet another version of Rowan. Intense, possessive, dark.
But then he smiles, and it’s as if it never happened. “Don’t forget you’re helping me too.”
“I guess…” I trail off. Given the bombshell he just dropped on me, I’m starting to feel like this agreement is going to benefit me way more than it benefits him. Unless… “Rowan. Do you want something more in exchange?”
He cocks his head. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you’re expecting me to be your sex slave or something. It’s not like I have anything else to give.”
Amusement colors his features. “I just want to remind you that I’ve never had any problems getting women to sleep with me. Coercion’s not really my thing, unless you’re into that.”
“I am not into that.”
“Then maybe don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
I press my lips together. He’s right, of course. If he really wants to do this to help sell our dating act, why should I stop him? It must be worth it for him. For all I know, he’s losing a ton of customers.
Rowan bumps my knee with his. “You good?”
No. But I think it’s time I admit that Rowan’s not exactly who I thought he was.
I meet his gaze. “I owe you a thank-you.”
He smirks. “Finally.”
“This is extremely generous.” So generous that I know I’m going to do whatever I can to sell our act. I just have to make sure I don’t get myself in trouble in the process.
“Then it’s settled.” His gaze caresses my face before it drops to my empty bowl. “You should get some sleep.”
As if on cue, my mouth parts on a yawn. My eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete. That long nap did nothing for me. “I’m going to be out like a log tonight. Can you show me to my room?”
Rowan stands up and helps me to my feet. He doesn’t let go of my hand as he leads me down the hall, and I don’t let go of his.
Only because I’m tired.
Definitely not because there’s a tiny part of me that likes it.
I expect him to take me upstairs, but he doesn’t.
He stops in front of a door that can only be—
“You’ll sleep in my bedroom.”
The surge of adrenaline that follows his words wakes me right up. I tug my hand out of his. “Don’t tell me this is part of selling our fake relationship. No one’s going to be watching us inside your house.”
“The other bedrooms aren’t ready,” he says matter-of-factly. “When they are, you can take one of them. Don’t worry, I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Oh. My cheeks blister. I really need to stop jumping to conclusions while I’m around him. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” He pushes the door open and reveals his king-sized bed. It looks brand-new, comfy, and inviting. My muscles ache, and I finally just…crash.
“Okay, thanks.”
“The bathroom is through here.” He gestures at a door to the left of the built-in closet.
I glance around the space, feeling like I’m intruding on his sanctuary. There aren’t many personal belongings—only his clothes peeking through the gap in the closet doors, a gym bag on the floor, and some knickknacks on the nightstand closest to me. The sheets are a dark gray and look freshly changed. Maybe he changed them while I was napping. The duffel bag of things I collected from my house is sitting in the corner.
“Thank you again. For everything.”
His jaw firms, and for a long moment, he just looks at me. “Don’t mention it.”
He leaves, and I walk over to sit on the bed. The duvet is cool and soft under my palms, and when I press my nose into the pillow, I pick up a subtle hint of his smell.
A wave of pleasure crashes through me.
You’re losing it.
Lifting my face off the pillow, I glance to my right. There’s a book on the nightstand. I pick it up and read the title.
La Vita Nuova. Dante.
Inside the book, I see it’s got English and Italian side-by-side. I wonder if Rowan speaks Italian.
In the bathroom, I wash my face, do my business on the toilet, and take a quick shower. But when I pull one of the T-shirts I sleep in out of my bag, all I smell is smoke.
I drop it, zip the bag, and shove it under the bed. I can’t sleep in that. I don’t want to dream of the fire.
Better to ask Rowan for a shirt. I’ll wash my things tomorrow and give it back to him then.
I pull on the hoodie Rowan gave me earlier today, zip it all the way up, and venture outside the bedroom.
Rowan’s on the sofa, typing something on his phone.
“Could I get something to sleep in?”
His eyes snap to mine and then drop to my bare legs. His hoodie is big enough to almost reach my knees, but I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that I’m wearing nothing underneath. My thighs clench together.
Rowan’s eyes are darker as he gets to his feet. “Of course.” When he brushes past me to enter the bedroom, a pulse of heat appears between my legs. He rummages in the closet and tucks some stuff under his arm, probably planning for tomorrow. Then he pulls out a neatly folded T-shirt. “Here.”
I take it from him and allow it to unfold. As expected, it’s huge. It’ll be as good as a nightgown on me.
“Does that work?”
“Yep.” I squeeze the T-shirt. “I’ll give it back to you tomorrow.”
When he doesn’t answer right away, I glance at his face. He’s looking at the shirt in my hands, his thumb dragging over his bottom lip. The silence stretches until his eyes lift to mine.
There’s a small scar right above his left brow.
“Keep it.”