Chapter Three

The Cottage

Valentina

God, he had a sexy voice.

Dumbfounded, I stared at him. Did I hear him right? He was offering me a place to live? Things never just fell on my lap. This kind of sheer luck didn’t exist. So what was the catch, Derek Cole? I continued to stare.

He opened his mouth slightly and closed it, looking over my head toward the door, both hands on his hips. His T-shirt went up a bit. Oh, there it was, that patch of skin. It definitely looked smooth from where I stood. His full lips formed a smile before he took a step back. He’d changed his mind. Of course he did.

“This is where you ask about the rental.” He peeked from under his eyelashes. Like a kid waiting for me to say yes to that candy he’d asked for. “Unless you already have other prospects.” He didn’t move, as if waiting for me to jump up and down and thank him for his generosity. This was by far the most uncomfortable conversation I’d ever had with a stranger.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Why not?” He swallowed hard, his expression blank.

People in the coffee shop slanted glances our way. I didn’t really have a good reason for saying no other than my gut told me this guy was trouble. The last thing I needed was to fall for the wrong guy again. It was one thing to admire him from afar, but having him as my landlord would mean he could visit me. Hot landlords did that, right?

A warm tingling sensation blasted across my belly and in between my legs. Derek Cole in my bedroom, tall and handsome, shirtless—now that was a sight. Why did I always end up there with him? Jeez. Wiping my sweaty hands on my skirt, I cleared my throat and lowered my voice. “I don’t even know you.” Wasn’t that the truth? I turned away from him, my chest aching.

He leaned in to catch my words. His smell was intoxicating, a mix of body wash, lemon and verbena maybe, and manly sweat. He was in my personal space, and I didn’t care. The room had gone from frigid to hot, and I wanted nothing more than to take off my sweater, touch him.

But I didn’t dare move. Instead, I balled my hands and hid them in the folds of my skirt. Breathing through my mouth, I said, “And you don’t know me. For all you know, I have ten people living with me.”

“Good point.” He nodded, his face inches from mine.

Okay, break it up. On three. One, two, three.

“Thanks anyway.” I made for the exit.

He grabbed my arm before I reached the doorknob. His warm long fingers on my skin sent another adrenaline-induced surge through me. I stood still, fighting the urge to turn my body to face him. An inch to the left and his forearm would brush against my breast. Bad idea. Terrible.

“Wait.” He gave me a brilliant smile, straight white teeth, eyes a little puffy, as if he hadn’t slept much the night before.

Why? Nope. I didn’t care if he slept or not. Run, my gut screamed.

“If you think about it,” he said, “you don’t know the other property owners either.”

“Good point.” I looked down at his hand.

After stealing another glance toward the door, he released me. I had to squeeze my fists tighter to stop myself from reaching out. He wanted to flee. I recognized the look on his face because I felt the same way. But for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why I was still here, basking in the heat emanating from this gorgeous stranger.

He gazed into my eyes. “The property was built recently. It just needs a few touch-ups.” He waited for me to comment, but I didn’t say anything. “It’s about eleven hundred square feet, two bedrooms, one bathroom. With a bathtub.” He added that last bit as if that would seal the deal with me. Not all girls like baths. Running two long fingers across the stubble just below his jaw, he caught his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “What else? The kitchen is small, but the living room has good space and lighting. The cottage was meant to be an art studio. But I’m sure it will suit your needs.”

I stifled a sigh. This cottage sounded like a dream come true. “Sounds decent.”

We stood in the middle of the small coffee shop, near the door. Customers bustled in and out as the daily morning rush came into full swing. Derek sidestepped a woman to clear the aisle and let more people in.

This close, I had to look up to keep eye contact. “Are you an artist?”

“No.” He thumbed the palm of his hand. “It was built for someone else. But that person no longer has need of it. So I figured you could use it.”

“You mean it’s not listed?”

“No. Of course, it is.” He crossed his arms, his gaze on me. “I just meant that it might be something you could use. Even if you don’t paint.”

“I don’t paint.” I shook my head. “At all.”

He hunched down a bit, eyes trained on mine. “What do you do? I mean, I can tell you’re a student. What’s your major?”

“Oh.” I’d never had anyone look at me like this, as if my answer was important, as if it meant everything to him. “Information systems.” I tried to move back, but the line to order had spilled into the sitting section. This was why I always left fifteen minutes before eight. The place was a madhouse, loud and crowded.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Computer stuff, huh?”

“Yep. I already have a real job waiting for me. I mean, I have real job now. Just, you know, not a career.” Why did I tell him that? I didn’t need his approval.

He nodded, as if he knew exactly what I meant. “Impressive. Not everyone gets a real job right after graduation.”

“I started interviewing last semester.”

“Let me guess. That was on your list. Find job. Check.” He drew a check in the air, doing a combination of a small chuckle and mischievous grin.

Holy shit. This gorgeous man was flirting with me. I smiled at the floor as flutters sprung from my center. I glanced at him, doing a bad job of hiding my laugh. “Hey, don’t mock the list. That’s how I get things done.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He hid his hands behind his back. His gaze moved from my eyes down to my cheeks before it settled on my lips, and my stomach did a quick somersault.

“Excuse me,” a short guy said, squeezing in between a table and me.

“Watch it.” Derek pointed behind me.

I shuffled forward and held my breath when my side pressed against Derek’s torso. He used his free arm to create a barrier between the guy trying to get by and me. Technically speaking, I was in Derek’s embrace, my hand resting on his muscular chest, hard and warm. I inhaled and took in his smell. I wanted to run my hand up his biceps and bury my face in the nook of his neck and shoulder. I wanted it so badly my skin felt hot and alive. Oh my God, he was dangerous. I needed to get out of here.

“It also has a private yard,” he whispered in my ear.

“Okay.” I did my absolute best not to shut my eyes and melt into him.

“Okay, what?”

“I’ll add you to my list. Your property, that is.” I stepped back, ignoring the pull, the strange need to be in his arms. It’d been too long since someone held me this close.

He nodded and exhaled. Had he been holding his breath?

How could someone I barely knew make me feel this way? Admittedly, he wasn’t a complete stranger. I’d seen enough of him over the past months to know he was courteous, but not too friendly. He stuck to his morning routine religiously and drank watered-down espresso shots. The man intrigued me. What made him stay and talk to a girl crying her eyes out in a coffeehouse? Any other guy would’ve run out. I knew this from experience.

I wanted to know more about him, but I couldn’t pluck up the courage to ask. His clean-cut look said he was successful in whatever it was he did, educated. And he carried a six-hundred-dollar wallet in his sweatpants. The one he always placed on the table next to him, with a BMW key on top of it. Did men really buy expensive wallets for themselves? Derek didn’t strike me as the type. Or maybe someone gave it to him as a gift. I glanced at his left hand. No ring. No wife. Not that I cared.

“So where is this amazing rental located? What’s the monthly rent?” I raised an eyebrow, a move I learned from Mom. The woman could command a room with just her eyebrows.

His chest expanded slightly, and I could swear his body temperature had gone up a few degrees. He relaxed his stance and dug into his front pocket. His sweatpants slid down to where his V-line dipped below the waistband. I wiped my sweaty hands on my skirt, a raw current stirring up a storm inside me. Could I really accept his help without getting close to him?

If his offer was viable, I owed it to Max to at least consider it. I should ask Dad to run a background check on him. Check for priors. Dad was a retired cop, but he still had a lot of friends in the force. All of them more than willing to run background checks if he asked.

Derek pulled out his wallet, reached for my wrist, and placed his business card on the palm of my hand. His touch, warm and soft, traveled all the way down to my toes. I rubbed the thick card stock between my fingers while I peered at his name printed in off-white letters against a dark gray background. When was the last time I accepted a guy’s number?

Max’s dad’s menacing voice echoed in my head. You were nothing when I found you. And you’re still nothing. My fingertips went cold as I cradled my cheek and welcomed the ghost pain—a reminder of how mistakes could hurt the people I love. My insides quivered, and suddenly I couldn’t catch my breath.

Dammit. What was I doing? Falling for the wrong guy once was enough. Derek seemed nice, but that could change in an instant. No, I couldn’t accept his help, and I couldn’t call or email him. I didn’t need this kind of distraction in my life, the kind that could easily turn into pain.

After all these years, it was time for Max and me to be a real family. The get job item on my list had been checked. I just needed to find a house. We were almost there. I couldn’t make any more mistakes. Max was my only priority, and that left no room for anyone else. I couldn’t falter now just because a beautiful stranger with a chiseled jaw flashed me a dazzling smile. Love wasn’t for me, and I was okay with that. I’d come to terms with it a long time ago, before Max was born. I couldn’t lose sight of what was important.

“Are you okay?” Derek tipped his head. A crease formed across his forehead as his hand reached for my face, only to stop halfway when I nodded and stepped out of his reach. “Email me at that address. I’ll forward you the details, and we can set up a meet.” He’d turned on his business voice, deep and determined.

“Thanks.” I put the card in my bag, just to be polite, and turned to leave. His fingers brushed my elbow, but I didn’t let him stop me this time. Without another glance back, I scurried out the door.

Good-bye, Derek Cole.