Sam raised his eyebrows at his flatmate and crossed his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t thinking with my old man. She needed a place. I didn’t know Erika was a sure thing. You hadn’t said so.”
Tracy flopped back on the sofa. “You shouldn’t have made the decision on your own.”
“You should have seen her when she arrived.” He would never forget the moment of recognition, like he’d been expecting her. “She looked like she hadn’t slept in a while.”
“And so you offered her your bed.”
“No, I offered her Roger’s bed.”
“Too bad the bloke’s not here anymore then, isn’t it?” Tracy let out a sigh. “I’m sure your bed isn’t far off from the way you were eying her.”
“I wasn’t eying her.”
Tracy shook her head like she didn’t believe him and leaned back to close her eyes. “Where are you taking her off to anyway?”
“She needs to buy bed linens.” As soon as he said it, he winced internally.
Tracy’s eyes popped opened and her head shot up. From the smirk on her face, she was going to go there. “That’s right domesticated of you Posh Spice. Next you’ll be shopping for furniture and comparing paint chips.”
Letting out a sigh, he turned away. “I’ll see you later.”
He knew Tracy was just taking the piss, but from her gleeful tone, she wasn’t going to let up anytime soon. Not that he cared much. He could take a ribbing. Since living with Tracy for the past three months, they’d had a lot of laughs. She was a good flatmate, and despite calling him Posh Spice, didn’t hold his privileged upbringing against him.
Locking the flat’s door behind him, he jogged down the three flights of stairs, taking them two at a time. Someone was cooking, a stew or soup by the scent of it. It filled the stairwell from top to bottom. On the ground floor, he went through the glass door, then his feet hit the pavement outside a moment later. He scanned Bernard Street up and down. The typical Sunday silence greeted him.
He crossed the street between two cars, then strode into the Tesco. A few shoppers milled around inside, and a younger kid stood at the checkout buying three bags of crisps. Sam found Grace at the mobile counter.
“I don’t need anything fancy,” she said to the salesclerk in a firm tone when Sam came up behind her. “Just something inexpensive I can make international calls and texts on.”
“Need a second opinion?” Sam asked, stopping beside her to lean against the counter.
She side-eyed him, her lips pursed. “Not really. This guy is trying to sell me the new smart phone when all I want is the flip phone.”
The clerk grinned at him, unabashed. “The new iPhone is even better than the first model.”
“The lady knows what she wants, mate.”
A few more minutes of haggling, and the clerk finally sold her the phone she wanted with a pay-as-you-go plan. She left all the packaging with the clerk, only taking the phone, the manual, and her receipt. New phone clutched tight in her hand, they left the store and stopped side by side on the pavement.
She stared straight ahead for a long minute. “New phone and no one knows my number.” There was something odd in the way she said it, her eyes distant.
“Here.” Their fingers brushed as he took the phone, hers soft and smooth. Delicate eyebrows arched as he added his number to her contacts. “Now you have me.”
Hazel eyes examined him, making the skin under his collar heat as he passed the phone back to her.
She was the first to look away, tucking her phone into the bag slung across her body. “So did you win my case for me?”
His head snapped back a bit at the law language. “Ah, Tracy…she’ll come around.”
Eyes narrowed, she stared at him like she didn’t believe him.
Not really sure of it either, he cocked his head to the left. “The store is this way.” They walked toward the gray geometric buildings. “Tracy was a bit piqued. She works three jobs. I don’t think her friend had committed to the place yet, officially anyway. She was just in the mood to make a fuss.”
The light traffic hummed along, people walking up and down the pavement in an unhurried way. He could tell the tourists from the locals, they always walked slower and held a pamphlet of some kind in their hands.
Beside him, Grace took everything in, her eyes never stopping. She stared up at the taller buildings, peeked down the alleyways they passed. It didn’t take long to arrive at the shopping center. They took a left to enter the open-air passageway between the two tall gray buildings where tables were set out in front of the different restaurants.
“And you?” she asked. He wasn’t sure what she meant until she added, “What do you do for a living?”
He ran a hand over his head. “That’s a good question.”
She stopped abruptly. “You’re not sure?”
The people walking behind them grumbled, and he ushered her to the side, out of the way. “I know what I do to earn money at the moment, but I’m not sure what I should do for a living.”
She stared at him a little longer than necessary, her face serious. “Hmmm,” she finally said, then merged back into foot traffic. He kept pace beside her.
“So what do you do to earn money at the moment?” she asked, her gaze aimed toward him.
He slid his hands into his front pockets. “I work for a professional investigator.”
She stopped again.
Pedestrians grumbled from behind them, and he ushered her to the side once again. What was with her and stopping in the middle of traffic?
“Is a professional investigator like a private detective?”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“It can be, I suppose.” Not like it had been lately. Allan kept having him follow people suspected of cheating, taking their photographs. Sam usually ended up staked out in his car all night. He’d begun to feel like a creeper, but what his boss needed, he did. Before moving here, Allan Fernsby was one of the few Londoners Sam had known personally. Occasionally his mother would employ the investigator when her family law cases got messy and she needed proof of one thing or the other. His father had even used him a few times for insurance fraud cases.
“Hmmm,” was Grace’s only response as they merged back into foot traffic.
“Here we are,” he said when they arrived at the department store. The glass doors parted for them as they entered. They passed through a seasonal section full of beach gear, everything smelling like coconut sun cream, then followed the signs to housewares and bedding. Wandering the aisles a few moments, they found the linens in the far corner.
Grace stared at the shelf, a cute little frown puckering her brow. “There’s not a lot of selection for twin beds.”
Her choices were limited to Thomas the Train and pink leopard print. He tipped his head, considering. “It’s a tough call. Thomas is on sale.”
Narrowing her eyes at him, she grabbed the duvet cover and sheet set with the leopard print.
He bit back a smile, enjoying getting her riled. “You probably need a duvet too?”
“Yeah.” They stepped to the other side of the shelf and she picked the least expensive duvet.
“Anything else you need to get settled?” he asked when she gripped the two packages in front of her.
“You have a coffee maker?”
“Of course.”
“That’s good then.” She scrunched up her face, and it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen, up there with kittens playing with string and puppies chewing slippers. “Oh, maybe some towels. I only brought really small ones for travel.”
An image of her in nothing but an extremely small towel filled his head. He clenched his jaw in an attempt not to react. A quick trip to the bath section, and he held two large and two small towels under his arm. Tracy was right, he was feeling rather domestic at the moment—and not hating it.
There wasn’t a queue at the till, and Grace paid for her purchases quickly. In no time, they stepped back outside, two large paper bags filled with all her new things gripped in her hands.
There was nothing left to do but return to the flat, but he stalled, wanting to spend more time alone with Grace.
“You hungry?”
“Starving.”
She said it in a desperate way, making him grin. “What do you fancy?” He jerked his chin toward the restaurants.
Glancing up and down all the little shops, her eyes landed on one with the word sushi written in big red letters. “Japanese?” she asked, turning to him.
“Sounds good.”
They each ordered a bento box and some drinks, then sat at a small round table set off to the side with other late-lunch eaters. Grace dove into her food like she hadn’t eaten in days. But through it all, her eyes took in her surroundings, quick and assessing. Her eyes narrowed at a group of teenagers talking loudly and carrying on. She flicked her gaze up and down a man who’d stopped near the table, looking at something on his phone. Her expression never changed from the serene mask she’d put on since they’d sat down.
After a few minutes, she waved her chopsticks in his general direction. “You look tired.”
Surprise lit through him. Usually, no one noticed. Or, at least, no one ever mentioned it. “I was up all night.”
“Hot date?”
“Ha. No.” He hesitated, not knowing whether he should tell her the truth or not. “I was watching a house for work.”
She leaned forward, eyebrows up in her hairline. “That sounds exciting.”
“It is, in fact, the opposite of exciting.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did you witness anything?” She said it in a low tone, like she was scared someone would overhear their conversation, and it almost made him laugh.
“No,” he whispered, leaning forward. “It was extremely uneventful.”
Shrugging, Grace returned to her teriyaki, then asked, “So what’s a dishy bird anyway?”
He nearly spit out his cola. “You heard that, did you?” What else had she heard? The skin under his collar heated. “It’s an attractive woman, but not a very polite way of saying it. Sorry. Tracy’s from the East End.”
Her eyes narrowed again, but she didn’t respond as she popped another piece of chicken in her mouth.
After she took a sip of her water, she asked, “And where are you from?”
“Oxford.”
“So you didn’t grow up here?”
Shaking his head, he said, “No. Moved here a few months ago.”
“Interesting.” She took another bite and swallowed. “I know everyone around here is speaking English, but half the time I don’t understand it. It’s easy enough to understand you, though.”
“There are lots of dialects across the country, and London is a mix of everything. You’ll get the hang of it.”
Her eyes got a distant look in them. “Maybe. If I’m here long enough.”
It had only been a couple hours since she’d turned up on his doorstep, but hearing she might not be here for long made his chest tighten. “So what are the things you’re most excited about seeing? The British Museum? Camden Market?”
She hesitated, then said, “Castles.”
“Castles,” he repeated, his lips twitching.
Nodding, she said, “I don’t care if you think it’s funny or not. We don’t have castles back home.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“It looks like you want to.”
“No, really. Castles are interesting. I just didn’t peg you for a princess-in-distress kind of girl.”
“Of course I’m not a princess in distress. I’m the princess who slays the dragon.”
Her confident tone made him full-on grin. “Of course.”
She wiped her hands on a napkin and tossed it into her empty dish. “Is there an Internet cafe somewhere close by? I need to check my email.”
“You can use my laptop back at the flat.”
She seemed surprised by the offer. “Thanks.” Surveying his empty dish, she stood. “This was nice, but I don’t want to take up more of your time.”
He stood too. “It hasn’t been a bother.”
One side of her mouth curled into a smile. “You probably had things you needed to do today besides babysitting an American.”
Yeah, he’d had plans to head to the gym for a workout, then return to the British Library. He needed to pick up where he left off researching deaths in the building they lived in, to see if he could pinpoint who exactly was haunting the second floor.
But he didn’t say any of that as he shook his head at her and led the way to the street. Couldn’t have the dishy bird who’d captured his attention thinking he was a nutjob.