Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Once inside the building, I called for Jason, but he wasn’t home, and the other tenant, Mrs. Trudy, took her sleep meds early. A nuke couldn’t wake her.
“Just one more flight, buddy. Come on.” I urged the man to keep going, using my body for support. Funny, I’d expected him to smell bad, like old onions and trash, but he smelled nice. Like cinnamon.
We got to my front door, and I walked him inside to my couch, where he sprawled out, his large frame barely fitting. I hadn’t realized how tall the man was, despite our long haul up the outside steps.
“I’m going to run a warm bath for you. Just wait there.” I took off my coat, started running the water, and put the kettle on. By the time I got to him, he was snoring like a lumberjack sawing logs.
“Tent guy?” I gave his shoulder a shake. “You need to warm up. You’re freezing.” I grabbed my cell from the coffee table to call nine-one-one.
“Please just let me rest…” he mumbled.
“I’m not letting you die on my couch.”
“Took a sleeping pill. That’s…all. Won’t…die.” He returned to snoring.
I stood and frowned, testing his hands, forehead and ankle ten times. He was warm. Warm and pink and, well, snoring.
Huh. Strange. Moments earlier he’d been as cold as penguin toes.
I sighed and covered him with my red throw hanging on the sofa arm. “I’m glad you’re okay. It would suck to have you die on my big decorating weekend.”
But why was he still camping in the alley? Jason said he’d be gone already, and with weather like this, I’d sure be looking for warmer pastures.
I set the thermostat a few degrees higher, flipped off the lights, and went to bed. Yes, I locked my bedroom door and had my cell. Just in case. Like Tent Man said, the world was filled with crazies. Couldn’t be too careful. But why did I feel oddly comforted knowing he was in my living room?
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning, I woke to more snow. Not heavy or anything, but just enough to maintain a thick powdery coating on the world outside. I loved how magical it looked, even though it would melt within a few days, leaving behind a mucky brown sludge. By next week, we’d be back in the fifties.
As I stared out my bedroom window, down at the back alley, I could only see a small edge of the red tent, but it was enough to make me feel terrible. There was a person inside, freezing off his chestnuts. He had nothing in this world, including kindness in his heart.
Then my brain kicked on. Shit. He’s in my living room. How had I forgotten? I’d come to the rescue of a total stranger. Possibly dangerous!
Stop it, Meri. I already knew he wasn’t. If the man had wanted to harm me, he probably would’ve done it already. And he wouldn’t have rejected the invitations into my home.
Seriously, I needed to stop assuming anything about him or his life. I knew the world was a complicated place, just like I’d told Jason. Stuff happened. Good stuff, bad stuff, and crushing stuff. Sometimes, life did give you more than you could handle.
“Well, you stubborn asshole, I’m not letting it crush you on my account. You’ll take my charity and like it.” I opened my bedroom door to find the bearded stranger, who smelled like cinnamon, still sleeping on the couch.
“What am I going to do with you?” I muttered. Not like I could send him back outside. But if he refused to go to a shelter, what then?
With breakfast tray in hand, filled with peace offerings—hot coffee, warm pancakes, and fresh orange slices, I hovered over my guest.
“Wakey, wakey. Breakfast cakies,” I called out.
He didn’t move.
I gave his side a gentle push with my foot. “You okay?”
He cracked open a blue eye. “Who the freak are you?”
Nice greeting. “I’m Meri.”
He slowly got to his elbows, his glossy blue eyes sweeping my living room. “Where am I?”
“My place. Don’t you remember anything?”
“No.” His eyes narrowed on my face. “Oh. It’s you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he pushed his blanket to the floor and attempted to stand, only to stumble back onto my couch.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yes,” he barked. “I’m fine. And you had no right to bring me here against my will.”
Against his will? “I saved you.” I set the tray down on the coffee table. “So how about a thank you?”
“I don’t need saving.” He got to his unsteady feet, managing to keep it together this time.
I inhaled sharply, pretending his words didn’t sting. As a person who hated conflict and, maybe, who showed overappreciation to the people in my life, it wasn’t easy to be slapped for helping a stranger. Then again, I needed to listen to him. Like Shawna’d said, I was addicted to being a people pleaser. Like Kay’d said, I gave with expectations. I had to treat this like a test.