Real Shadows

by M. E. Clayton

  I stood up because…well, fuck this asshole, that’s why. “I’m turning down your offer because I don’t want you getting hurt!”

  He looked remarkably offended. Like, the most offended I’ve ever seen someone. “What!?”

  I ignored Karla and Trevor standing up and huddling next to each other far away from the table and lit into Xander. “It was one thing to stay with Karla and Trevor when I was going to live in hiding. They were going to relatively safe since I wouldn’t exist here. But living out in the open with you can bring that psycho to your door, Xander! What don’t you get about that?”

  He looked murderous. His snarl was low and deep and serious. “I’m going to forget you just called me a pussy, just like you’re going to forget I was an asshole to you when we first met. And with that, you are going to move your shit into my house, and you are going to stay with me until I say it’s safe for you not to. Understand?”

  My eyes widened as I reared back at his audacity. “You can’t do that! Who do you think you are?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m the bastard who will stay in the motel room next to yours if I have to. You think you’re being stalked now, just you wait, Fallon.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “I have no problem doing that for you, too!”

  Trevor had me by the waist and Karla was pushing Xander back before I could fully launch myself across the table at the asshole and kill him with my bare hands. “I am not moving in with you!” I screamed like a lunatic.

  “Yes, you are!” Xander fired back.

  This asshole!

  Chapter 14

  Xander~

  I was pretty sure I was going to have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of my days, but who needed sleep anyway?

  After Trevor and Karla kept Fallon from killing me, and with a ton more common sense from Trevor, Fallon had caved and agreed to move in with me temporarily. She wasn’t happy about it, but she chose the not-cutting-off-her-nose-to-spite-her-face route. And now I was at her motel room picking her up to move her in. I had even let some of the guys knock off work early and that wasn’t my norm. Mackley O’Brien, or Mac as we like to call him, had even made a comment about how I must be feeling sick or something.

  The asshole.

  Little could I admit it was the something-or rather someone that had me twisted up in knots and not that I was coming down with the flu.

  I knocked on the door, and a few seconds later, it swung open and a fresh-out-of-the-shower Fallon stood before me. Her face was free of makeup and her dark hair was thrown up in a bun on top of her head, but it looked damp.

  Fuck, she was pretty. Even in a light blue t-shirt, jeans, and plain sandals she looked beautiful.

  I glanced behind her and saw her a couple of bags sitting on the bed. “You ready?”

  She stepped back and allowed me entrance. “Almost,” she answered. “I’m paid up through tomorrow morning, but I let the clerk know that I’d be leaving today.”

  “Well, since you decided to use your real name to check in, maybe your check out will make it look like you’ve moved on,” I replied before reaching for the bags on the bed. “Is this all of it?”

  “Yeah. I just have to officially check out, but I can grab the bags an-”

  I shot her a withering look over my shoulder as I grabbed her bags. “We’re going to have ourselves a little talk when we get to my place, Fallon.”

  “Xand-”

  “Not now and not here,” I said, interrupting her. “But we are going to talk.” She let out an irritated huff but didn’t argue any further.

  I hauled her bags to my truck in one trip as she did one final sweep of the motel room. I waited by the passenger door, and I opened the door when she finally made her way to the truck. I thought she was going to give me shit for opening the door for her and closing it once she got settled, but she didn’t.

  Small favors.

  The drive to the motel office was a short one, and the defiant little brat had her hand on the door handle and was hopping out of the truck before I had even had it in park. I let out a string of curse words as I watched her disappear into the motel office. I still got out of the truck and went inside to show her that I wasn’t going to be so easily dusted off.

  After Fallon checked out of her motel room, we repeated our earlier steps where I opened the truck door for her and she got in without a word. In fact, the entire drive back to my place was in complete silence, but I didn’t care. At the end of the day, Fallon was safer with me than she was with Trevor and Karla. It wasn’t that they couldn’t protect her, but Karla would always be Trevor’s first priority-as it should be-and Karla would get his ultimate protection over Fallon. This way, living with me, there was nobody to be torn between. Fallon would get all of me if it came down to it.

  I pulled into my driveway and tried to look at my house through Fallon’s eyes. It was a single-story home with a functional attic that I used for a workshop. My office was used for the administrative side of my business, but the attic is where I allowed my messes. The shed I was expanding was used to store my bigger machinery, plus my lawnmower and shit like that.

  The house was like I had explained to Fallon yesterday. It had three bedrooms, two and a half baths, a kitchen, living room, dining room, and a huge deck that lead to my backyard. It could be argued that the house was too big for just one man, but I hoped to fill it with a wife and a kid one day.

  I opened the door and, again, Fallon was out of the truck before I could open the door for her. I reached in the back for her bags and had them all hauled up for one trip. Fallon really had traveled lightly, and the bags didn’t weigh a thing.

  She quietly followed me up the walkway to the front door and waited patiently as I unlocked the door. I stepped back, and taking my life in my own hands, I reached back, placed my hand on the small of her back, and escorted her inside. She hadn’t flinched or rushed to get away, so I was going to count it as a win.

  I set her bags down in next to the entry wall and pulled her key copy off my key chain. “This is your copy of the house key,” I told her, handing it to her. I placed it in her palm and her face conveyed just how uneasy she still was with all of this. “It opens the front door, the back door, and the garage door.”

  Her blue peepers glanced over at the front door. “And the deadbolts?”

  “Those are key-less. They work off a code,” I explained.

  Her eyes rounded. “Really?”

  I smiled softly at her surprise. “Yeah. Really.”

  “What if I forget the code?”

  I grabbed her bags again. “We can reprogram them to something you’ll remember if you want. Now let me show you to your room.” She followed me without another word.

  When we got to her room, I set her bags down on the bed and gave her the rundown. “As you can see, the room’s set up like any other bedroom across America. You can use it however you see fit.”

  There wasn’t anything really exciting about the room. The walls were painted a soft grey with dark grey curtains on the window that viewed into the backyard. The bed was a queen with matching dark grey bedding. There was a small closet, but between that and the dresser on the right side of the room, there was plenty of clothing space. The entire bedroom set matched with two nightstands and a hope chest at the foot of the bed. It was simple, but efficient.

  The entire house was pretty much set up the same way. Every room looked like it belonged in a showroom, not because I was fancy, but because all the furniture in each room matched itself. The only exception was my bedroom. My bedroom was my sanctuary and my safe place and where my personality breathed. It was a hodgepodge of personal stuff from my childhood until now. When I had bought the house, I had an interior designer I partnered with a lot on my projects decorate my house, but I had made it clear that my bedroom was off limits.

  “What do you think?”

  She blew me away with her manners. I was still feeling guilty about our first meeting a
nd hadn’t expected much. Her blue eyes looked into mine. “You have a very nice home, Xander,” she said graciously.

  Not sure why I suddenly felt heat crawl up my neck, but I did. “Well, I’ll let you get settled and then give you a tour.”

  I went to turn, but she stopped me. “Xander?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Uhm, do you…do you have a safe or…something?” she asked nervously.

  I cocked my head at her nervousness. I’ve seen Fallon in a different array of emotions, but not nervous, which was surprising seeing as how she’s got a crazy person tracking her. “I have a couple of safes, along with a lock closet in the attic.”

  “What’s a lock closet?”

  “It’s just a small room that houses stuff I can’t fit into a safe.”

  “What on earth would you store in there?”

  “I have a lot of expensive equipment that I lock up when not in use. Everything I own for my business is debt-free.”

  She didn’t remark on that as I watched different expressions play out on her face in thought. Finally, she asked, “Would it be okay if I stored my bag in one of your safes or your room?”

  My brows drew down. “Which bag?”

  Fallon grabbed the small strapped bag from the bed. “This one.”

  “What’s in it?” I remembered Karla said Fallon wasn’t a fan of guns, but I needed to know if this woman had brought a gun into my home. I had a couple of them locked up in my safe, but they were registered, and I knew how to use them.

  Her lips rolled in and she shrugged a shoulder. “My money,” she replied.

  What?

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “It’s my money,” she repeated. “Everything I have.”

  I snatched the bag from her hand and, opening it up, I could see it was filled with cold hard fucking cash. My eyes flew to hers. “You’ve been carrying this around with you?” She nodded. “Are you fucking crazy?”

  She let out a deep sigh and dropped on the bed. “Nope,” she murmured. “Just exhausted.”

  Well, fuck.

  Chapter 15

  Fallon~

  It’s been almost two months of normal, but I’m still realistic enough to know that it’s probably too good to be true.

  After Xander had lectured me about the thousands I had been carrying around like cheap luggage, he had given me a tour of his home and had gone over the rules. Albeit, there hadn’t been many that didn’t fall under basic common courtesy, but he had been adamant about the fact that he was the man of the household and that meant there’d be doors opened for me, bags carried in for me, and the like. I had been right when I had pegged Xander Raynes for being a man’s man, and he wasn’t apologetic about it at all.

  I’m not going to lie, though. Having gone it alone for all these years, it felt nice to have someone around to do all those little things that didn’t seem like they mattered enough to make a difference, but they did.

  It took me only two weeks to find a job at Cut & Clips and, while not glamorous, it was a job I was grateful for. I was by no means a stylist or beauty guru, but the salon’s vibe was energetic enough that I didn’t mind sweeping up hair, stocking shelves, or refiling shampoo containers. And since the salon was only open during daylight hours, I had a day shift that made it possible for me to be home safe at night.

  I had also managed to find a used car in the sale ads that I got for cheap. Randall was a high school junior who had wanted to upgrade his car to something a little more cooler, so I got his used KIA for a good bargain.

  All in all, everything was coming together, and I felt I was finally in a place where I could start looking for a place of my own. I was finally living a semi-normal life where I wasn’t afraid to have a cellphone, bank account, job, and somewhat friends. Being near Karla was also a great plus. We talked all the time and had lunch together at least once a week. It was…nice.

  The only dark spot in my rather sunny picture was that Brant was a lot smaller town than I had been prepared for. Living in big cities in California, I hadn’t given much to gossip or worried about what my neighbors had been into. Brant was a different animal altogether; mainly, me living with Xander.

  One thing salons were notorious for was gossip, and Cut & Clips was full of it. I heard more than I wanted to about what a catch Xander Raynes was and I had to let the gossip fly because I couldn’t tell people the real reason I was living with Xander. Sure, I stuck to the script that he was just helping me out as a favor to Karla and Trevor, but nobody bought my story. The town was full of women who believed in Lifetime Original Movies and romantic comedies that they convinced themselves that I was living with Xander. So, the sooner I could move out, the sooner I could squash some of the rumors.

  Not to mention, living with Xander was harder than I thought it would be. I learned early on that my living with him had no effect on his daily life. The man walked around in just basketball shorts or sweats all the time. Hell, a few times I caught him in just a towel, fresh out of the shower. And, trust me, that’s not a good thing when the man is shredded all to hell and is sexy as sin. I didn’t need my attraction to Xander to deepen. I had real-life problems that didn’t include a reformed jackass in my bed.

  The surprising thing is that we got along fairly well. I was sure our personalities would clash, but they hadn’t yet, and we fell into a nice, cordial routine. I even stopped fighting his alpha tendencies and let him be the man of the house. Everything was working out, if only the women at the salon would stop plaguing me with questions about how good the man was in bed.

  With the decision to start looking at places to live, I sat at the house computer in Xander’s office and pulled up realty listings for Brant, North Dakota. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been seated at the computer before I heard Xander’s deep, rumbling voice behind me. “What are you doing?”

  I looked up, startled and surprised. “What are you doing here?”

  He was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “I live here,” he smirked.

  I rolled my eyes. “I mean, what are you doing home already?”

  “Fallon, it’s past six,” I said, jerking his head towards the clock on the wall.

  I glanced back down towards the corner of the computer screen, and sure enough, it was a little past six already. “Shit,” I mumbled. “I hadn’t realized it was that late.”

  “What are you doing?” he asked again.

  I looked back up at him. Damn, the man really was a good-looking sonofabitch. “I was checking real estate listings for condos or apartments,” I replied.

  I could see the tick in his jaw. “Why?”

  I logged out of the website and powered down the computer before standing up and walking towards him. “Because now that I’ve got a car and a job, it’s time I find a place to live,” I said, leaving the ‘duh’ out of my answer, but letting it be implied.

  “You don’t like living here?”

  Okay.

  I was not expecting that.

  “That’s not the point,” I replied, a might bit confused. “This was a temporary arrangement, or did you forget? The plan was that I’d move out once I got settled, Xander.”

  Something passed in his eyes and, suddenly, things didn’t feel that simple anymore. “You’re wrong, Fallon,” he said. “The arrangement was that you’d move out once I felt it was safe for you to do so.”

  I was standing in front of him, blown away by his words. “What? What are you talking about?”

  “The agreement was that you’d stay here until I felt it was safe enough for you to move out.” He straightened as he shrugged a shoulder. “It’s only been a few weeks,” he pointed out. “I don’t feel…uh, comfortable with you moving out just yet.”

  I stood there not sure what I was feeling. He couldn’t be serious, could he?

  I shook my head to clear the muddiness his word had created. “You don’t have a say, Xander,” I replied. “You…it’s not up to you,
contrary what your alpha man mind may think.”

  “That was the deal, Fallon,” he argued.

  I wanted to be a jerk and tell him again he didn’t have a say, but I quickly realized Xander wasn’t being a macho alpha. I think he really was concerned about me leaving. Sure, we’ve been living together for a few weeks, but it wasn’t as if we’d become friend-friends. We had been…easy roommates; nothing more. So, his concern was a little…well, concerning.

  “Xander, I…I can’t live here forever,” I whispered. “The whole point of getting a job and…all this, is to finally meet this situation head-on. I can’t do that if I’m living here.”

  There went that tick in his jaw again. “Why not?”

  “Because that’s the coward’s way out, Xander,” I replied. “This is my problem. I need to…deal with it myself.”

  He looked pissed. “It’s not cowardice to accept help from friends.”

  I didn’t want to be a jerk, but I wasn’t going to sugarcoat this conversation either. “Xander, we’re hardly friends,” I pointed out. “And even if we were, accepting help from a friend is different from putting them in harm’s way. Why do you think I don’t hang out with Karla as much as I’d like to?”

  Xander stepped to me, and a small part of me almost stepped back, but I stood firm and held his gaze. “What are we if we’re not friends?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets like they’d be safe there. “For fuck’s sake, Fallon, we live together.”

  “You let me stay with you, Xander,” I corrected. “That’s not the same as living with someone. And, with that, I’d say we’re more roommates than we are friends.”

  “Oh, really?” The irritation was plain as day in his voice.

  “Yeah, really,” I said with just a little bit of bite. He was being ridiculous. “I can count on one hand what I know about you, Xander. I know your name, what you do for a living, that Trevor is your best friend, and that you’re single. Four things, Xander. I know four things about you.”

  He gave me a tight nod, but he looked upset. “Yeah, well, you want to know what I know about you?” He didn’t let me answer. “I know your name, what you do for a living, that Karla is your best friend, and that you’re single. But I also know that you’re not a morning person. You prefer tea to coffee. You’re neat and clean up after yourself. You like to read murder mysteries. You can cook, but what you really like to do is bake. I know you have a smile for everyone you meet even after what you’ve been through and are going through. I know you hate to wear shoes and prefer to be barefoot or in socks. I also know you’d wear pajama pants all day if the world would let you.”