Page 40 of Not You Again
He shrugs, stirring cream into his coffee. “It’s what you saw me drawing the other day.”
“Oh.” I look at it again. “Is that …?”
“You?” Kit gives me a smile over his shoulder. “Yes, sweet potato. That’s you.”
I bring my mug to my lips so I don’t have to reply. The knowledge that this is how he sees me throbs in my chest. The woman in that drawing isn’t closed off or unapproachable at all.
“If you hate it, we can take it down,” Kit offers as he sips on his coffee.
“No, don’t,” I say before thinking it through. I clear my throat and say in a more measured tone, “Leave it. You’ve always been a talented artist.”
“That was dangerously close to a compliment.”
I roll my eyes. “I like your thighs and you can draw nice pictures. Don’t let it go to your head.”
Kit laughs. “Are you ready to head to my place?”
“Born ready.” I raise my coffee mug in a mock toast. The truth is, I’m a little terrified to see his place. He’s so pulled together these days, I truly wonder what his life is like behind closed doors. I finish my coffee and grab my purse. “Quick question before we go.”
“What’s that?” Kit chugs the rest of his coffee.
“You don’t have a sex dungeon, do you?”
Kit chokes on his coffee, spraying some on the counter. He takes a moment to recover, pounding his chest with his fist. “What?”
“I’ll take it that’s a no.”
“Jesus Christ, Andie.” Kit rinses his mug in the sink, then wets a paper towel to wipe his face after that coffee mishap. “No. I don’t have a sex dungeon.”
“Just checking.” I shrug and slip out the door.
By the time the camera crew has us mic’d up outside the door to Kit’s suite at the Colonnade, I’m bouncing from one foot to the other.
He leans against the door, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with an amused smile on his face. “Excited about something, sweet potato?”
“I want to see your fortress of solitude.” I clap my hands. It makes him laugh.
“You will, but first I need you to understand something.”
I stop bouncing. “You said you didn’t have a sex dungeon. How bad could it be?”
He rolls his eyes. “I mean it. Are you listening?”
I take a deep breath and nod. “Listening.”
“I’ve told you I travel for work.” He pauses until I nod. “The Colonnade sends me where they need me. Because I’m usually supervising construction—sometimes new and sometimes remodeling—I stay there for a while. They need me on site around the clock, so they let me live in one of their suites.”
I look at the collar of his shirt. It’s pilling around the fold, and it makes me wonder how long he’s had it.
“Andie?”
“Yeah. You live in hotels. Got it.” I force a smile. Something about his worn clothing and this fancy resort aren’t fitting together. I’m hoping seeing inside will help fill in some blanks.
He sighs. “I don’t own a house or a condo or property of any kind. Even my car is a rental I’ll use while I’m here, on the Colonnade’s dime.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I meet his gaze.
He pulls out the key card for the room. “I just … don’t want you to get the wrong impression, that’s all.”