She gave him a conspiratorial look. “Oh, if it’s pushy you’re in need of, you’ve picked the right new friend. I’m your worst nightmare.” She cocked her head toward the TV. “Now pay attention because some day this week, you’re coming with me to WorkAround and we’re doing that tour.”
“Andi.”
She reached out and pressed her fingers over his lips. “Nope. You’ve given me the green light to be pushy. Contract has been signed. You’re doomed. So just say yes, Hill. I promise I’ll take good care of you. It won’t hurt at all.”
He stared at her for a long moment but then nodded.
She lowered her hand. “Good.”
“But that doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to any podcast,” he added.
“Of course not.” She shifted, turning her body back toward the movie, but landing a little closer to Hill. She could feel the heat coming off him. So much of her wanted to lean in to him, to have him put his arm around her, bend down, and kiss her with those lips she’d just been touching. But now that she knew he wasn’t interested in starting anything up with her, that took the weight out of the thoughts. She could indulge in her little fantasies about him without playing the what-if game or trying to read if this was a date or not a date, if he was going to make a move or not, if she was going to panic if he touched her. Boundaries had been set.
She was safe.
***
Hill was engrossed in Halloween II after he and Andi had decided to go on to the sequel, but in a quiet part of the movie, deep breathing caught his attention. He turned, finding Andi with her cheek against the back of the couch, her eyes closed, fast asleep.
He reached for the remote and hit Pause, afraid a jump scare would wake her, and checked the time on his phone. Damn, how was it almost one in the morning? After watching the first movie, they’d taken a break and Andi had thrown some premade cookie dough in the oven. Somehow, over warm cookies and cold milk, they’d ended up deciding to make the night a double feature. But his movie buddy had apparently run out of steam.
Of course she had. She’d told him earlier how much work she’d done today. Unlike him, she had actual jobs with actual responsibilities. He should’ve left after the first movie and given her time to rest instead of selfishly wanting to soak up more time with her.
After she’d admitted that she was attracted to him, the whole night had taken on a different glow. When he’d first gotten there, he’d felt tentative and unsure about what the situation was. Then when she’d made the comment about how he had to have been attractive when he was a firefighter—past tense—he’d gotten the message. But then she’d quickly corrected his assumption. She thought he was superhot now.
That simple compliment had stirred up something inside him that had been dormant for a long damn time. He hadn’t lost his ability to feel desire after everything happened, but feeling desired was something he hadn’t felt in this new version of his life. It’d been like a shot of adrenaline.
He’d wanted to take back everything he’d said about not dating and being in a weird place and had wanted to pull Andi to him, to kiss her, to show her how he wanted her, to feel her wanting him. To forget that there were any complications with her being his tenant and neighbor, to forget he was in no place to date anyone, to ignore that sex would be all he was capable of offering. But Andi had laid down her own honesty. She had said she was in a strange place, too. She hadn’t told him why or what that meant, but he remembered her statement from the night of the break-in. She never let guys sleep over.
There was a story there, and he had a feeling it was an ugly one. He would respect her boundaries.
Careful not to jostle her, he got up from the couch and grabbed the empty plates and glasses from the coffee table. He went to the kitchen and flipped on the light. Andi’s kitchen was a mirror image of his on the other side, but hers had a lot more color. A bright aqua toaster, a yellow bowl of apples on the counter, and a collection of Super Mario Bros. fridge magnets complete with turtles, redbrick blocks, and green pipes.
He set the dirty dishes in the sink and glanced up. The window above the sink had a small ledge, and Andi had a line of little, round metal bells sitting on it. He’d noticed another set like it on the windowsill in the living room. They didn’t match the rest of her style, so they’d stood out, and he’d wondered if she was one of those people who left Christmas decorations out year-round. He touched one of the bells, but it rolled off the ledge, and he caught it before it could hit the sink. Sensitive little things.
Only then did he realize what they were there for. Noise.
If someone tried to break in through a window, it would send the bells rolling and clanging. He glanced over his shoulder back toward the living room, concern moving through him. Was Andi that frightened? He’d had an alarm installed, and the new dead bolts were top quality. He’d wanted her to feel safe, but obviously, she was still worried. He hated that she felt so insecure in her own place.
A floorboard creaked behind him, and he turned, bell still clutched in his palm.
Andi stood in the doorway, arms crossed like she was cold, and her hair askew from her nap. “I fell asleep on you again.”
“It’s fine. I hadn’t realized how late it’d gotten. I was just picking up the dishes.” He set the bell back on the windowsill carefully and then turned back to her. “I was going to wake you before I headed out.”
Her gaze went to the window, and she rubbed her arms as if chilled. “I see you found my silly security measure.”
He tried to gauge her expression. “You still don’t feel safe.”
She stepped inside the kitchen and shrugged. “I’m not sure I ever feel truly safe, but those were there before the alarm was installed. I left them in case I forget to turn on the alarm.”
“Is there anything I can do? To make you feel more secure here?” he asked, stepping closer, concerned about that haunted look in her eyes.
Andi gave him a wan smile. “It’s not about the house or the neighborhood or anything like that.” She tapped her temple. “It’s all up here, unfortunately. There’s part of me that knows no one is ever one hundred percent safe, that there’s only so much you can do. There is no foolproof plan. But I still try.”
His jaw flexed, her tone saying everything she wasn’t. “Someone hurt you.”
She looked down, her posture closing. “Yeah. Inside a house with the best security system money can buy. So I honestly don’t know why I think Christmas bells would help anything.”
His lungs deflated as a sharp kick of anger went through him. Someone had hurt Andi. Sweet, upbeat Andi. Hurt her badly enough that she never felt safe, that she expected dates to spike her drink and murder her in her sleep, that she spent her life immersed in horror to prepare herself. He wanted to ask all the questions, but he could tell she’d said more than she wanted to.