by Roxy Mews
She slid out a slim spice rack. All the way in back sat a big bottle of ibuprofen. Felicity downed two tablets. The sun began to shine through her curtains as it made its way higher in the sky. She swallowed two more pills before she tucked the bottle back into the cabinet.
The thumping around let her know her guest was making his way out of the bedroom. If it was possible, he looked even better in the morning. His hair was rumpled, there were some creases in his pajama pants in very eye-catching places, and it almost looked like his skin was rosier.
“I’m going to hop in the shower,” he said.
She grabbed his arm to stop him. His arm with big flexy biceps. Oh boy. “Wait, the water heater is only big enough for me. How about I make us some coffee first?”
“I’m good with cold. I’ll have the coffee to warm back up.”
He didn’t look like the type of guy to rough it at anything, but sure enough, he made his way into the shower and she heard him suck in a breath as he pushed the flow through the showerhead.
Chapter Sixteen
His lips might have turned blue, but he at least lost his erection. He was surprised it took as long as it did, considering she was right and the water was damn near ice from the moment he stepped under the stream.
The shower was small, but he could fit in it. The basin was recessed, so it was actually tall enough for him to get under the water comfortably. He couldn’t even get that in his own home.
He found the towel on the other side of the curtain. His roommate had one wrapped around her head, so he assumed the one left was for him. From what he’d learned about how she lived, if she didn’t need it, she probably wouldn’t have it in the house.
The thought of climbing into the bed area in a towel was not appealing. He’d need to remember to bring his clothes with him next time. There was also a lot of planning ahead in this tiny house living. Brandon left his boxer briefs off, because after his little stress reliever in the bed, he wasn’t going to put them back on. He pulled on his pajama pants and wrapped the towel around his shoulders.
When he stepped out, he saw Felicity making coffee like she seemed to do everything else. She was dancing to music.
“You are way too cheery for the morning.”
“I should be cheery. I have a press junket set up by Debbie. She has a bunch of reporters, television and newspaper, showing up at her news station just to do an interview with me.” She took a shaky breath. “And I have to be upbeat, so there’s no better way to do that than with music.”
Felicity spun as she lifted a small coffee grinder in the air and turned it on. The smell of freshly ground beans distracted him. He was almost able to ignore the way she shook her hair when taking it out of the towel. He always ground his own beans and found himself grateful for one small part of his morning he could keep.
“When do we have to be there?”
Felicity stopped the grinder and poured the grounds into a paper filter on top of what looked to be a glass beaker. “Oh,” she said as she put more beans into the grinder. “Did you want to come with me?”
Brandon had to remind himself that he didn’t want to be in front of a camera. He had to remind himself that he wanted to be anywhere but in the spotlight with this.
He reminded himself of all these things even as his mouth said, “Well, I would think they would want to know how our first night went from my point of view.”
She smiled. “They might not be interviewing you. Most of these spots are about tiny house living. Being that you were only here one night, what would you have to tell them that I don’t know?”
“I could tell them you snore,” he grumbled.
She gasped. “I do not.”
Brandon looked around her adorably indignant pose and saw that a whole tablespoon of coffee had brewed. “Are we going to have coffee before lunch?”
She smiled. “I figured you’d be impatient. So I got this.”
Out of a pocket from what looked to be a curtain, she pulled out a giant syringe.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“I’m going to make sure you get your coffee.”
“I don’t want an enema.”
She laughed. “Just watch.”
In only a couple minutes, she had done some kind of magic that made him a cup of coffee from the giant tube. After his coffee was steaming in the cup, she discarded the grounds into a bucket outside of the window.
He sniffed it. Surely it couldn’t taste as good as a properly brewed drink.
“Did you need any sugar or milk?” She grabbed a few containers from the counter and her tiny refrigerator.
“That depends on what this tastes like.”
Leaning over the small table, she placed her hands on either side of the cup. The liquid inside wobbled and he held the mug tighter. He wasn’t going to spill it and have to wait for the hour long coffee dripper behind her.
He looked up once he realized his caffeine was safe only to discover he hadn’t taken a cold enough shower. She had on a tank top that gaped at the perfect angle to give him a glimpse of her purple lace bra. He tried to drag his gaze out of her cleavage, but it took all of his brain power to listen to her and respond.
“When you get your coffee, how do you take it normally?”
“When I make my own, black. When I get it from a restaurant, I candy it up with milk and sugar,” he told her cleavage.
“Well, if you like good coffee, you’ll take this black.”
She stood up and he refocused his eyes. She was waving for him to try it. He really hoped the filter she used on the device wasn’t some kind of recycling project. If this tasted like reused toilet paper, he was quitting life.
Then he sipped the coffee. His eyes bulged. Then he took as big a drink of the hot brew as his mouth could handle.
“What is this?”
“It’s a small roasting company I order from. This is their whiskey barrel aged blend. I was lucky enough to get the latest batch. They usually sell out of it super fast. I camped out in my house where my Wi-Fi is good and waited to get it.”
“There is no bitter back end, and the flavor is incredible.” It was so good he actually forgot about her purple lace bra for a moment.
He was almost finished with his cup when she took the filter out of her science experiment of a coffee canter.
She joined him, and he debated trying the syringe setup to have a second cup. They sat at the table for a moment in silence. Brandon always loved having the quiet of the morning with a good cup of coffee in hand.
It was yet another thing that he realized he valued, and he enjoyed the experience just as much sitting in companionable silence here. He was thinking about it as his hostess pulled his cup from his hand and proceeded to refill it.
“I’ll show you how to make your own, later. Debbie told me I have to wear makeup to this thing, so I need to take my time and put it on.” She swallowed the last of her coffee.
Brandon watched as she rinsed her cup, then washed it and placed it in a slotted rack over the sink to dry. He did the same thing at home. He hated dirty dishes.
He sat in silence as she went to the bathroom and he heard her moving different things around the sink. She cussed a few times, then more clattering.
He finished his second cup, and was contemplating trying his hand at the coffee making process, but if he screwed it up, throwing away such good beans would be a crime.
“Could you give me the name of the roasting house you order from?” he called. “I have got to get myself some of this when I go back home…”
He realized he still had twenty-nine days to stay in her house. Maybe he would order her some and order extras to keep for himself. Who needed sleep when you had coffee like this?
“I’ll text you the link later. I think I’ve still got a coupon code for free shipping too,” she called from the bathroom.
Brandon would have some shipped as soon as he was done here. This was one part of tiny house living h
e could get used to.
Felicity cleared her throat. “So…what do you think?”
He had been making notes on his phone, and hadn’t seen her step out of the bathroom.
Some people cleaned up okay. Some people put on so much makeup or hair products that they didn’t even look like themselves. But even the bright morning light was kind to his housemate. Felicity had an iridescent glow around her cheekbones, a golden haze over her eyes, which looked even bigger with the goop women smeared on their lashes. She looked simply angelic.
“You look beautiful.”
She smiled.
“Except for the lipstick on your teeth.”
She cursed some more and went back into the bathroom.
Brandon reached around behind her to hang up his towel to dry in the bathroom. With his boxers in his pocket, he went up the stairs to the bedroom. It only took him a second to realize, no, he couldn’t get dressed up here.
“Where do you want me to put my dirty clothes?” he asked on his way to the bathroom.
“Is everything you have washable?”
He nodded. “I just brought the basics with me. The only things that can’t be washed are the suits I hung up last night.”
“Then you can just throw them in here.”
She pulled out a large drawer from the wall and he saw a pink lace bra inside that he threw his boxers on top of.
“Does everything in this house come out of the wall?” he asked.
“As much as possible. It gives me more living space.”
He went to change. He put on a button up shirt and shaved in her tiny rectangle sink. He was going with her to the interviews. Even if he served no purpose, there wasn’t enough “living space” in this house to keep him from going stir crazy. He made a promise to himself to get out whenever he could.
Chapter Seventeen
At least she hadn’t stared at his penis the whole time.
Felicity looked into the reflection on her stainless steel refrigerator and pulled her hair back before letting it fall forward again in defeat. Maybe there was a reason Debbie wore her hair so severely tamed. She got respect. Felicity sure could use some of that.
The problem was, today, when Brandon stepped out of the shower and his pants clung to him like a second skin, she was pretty sure she could use some of that too.
Felicity wasn’t in the market for a date, though. She was in the market for a banker to back her project. She was in the market to make her passion a reality, and that didn’t leave much time for a romp in the hay. And that was all it would be with the man who definitely needed to sleep on his own damn side of the bed tonight.
Brandon was stubborn, and lived to an excess she never wanted to be a part of again.
Felicity thought for just a moment about the pretty dress in her closet. Her old life wasn’t worth it. It was why she told herself she kept the dress, but in reality, there was a little tiny part of her heart that loved the way the material slipped against her skin. Something woke up inside her when she’d worn it last. The cutaway sheer mesh between the leaves of blue stylized flames let everyone know the garment had hugged her curves perfectly. She was a vision of power in that dress. Some said beauty, but really Felicity had just felt the strength that came with knowing all eyes were on her. She’d had the attention of every single person, male and female in the room that night.
Two years ago, she could have said something meaningful. She could have done something great with that power, but instead she’d held an award. She’d been placed in the background. She’d fantasized about stepping forward and grabbing the microphone all night, but she hadn’t. She’d let herself be decoration.
That was the night she’d left. The next time she wore that dress, Felicity vowed, she wouldn’t let herself fade into the background. She would step forward into the light and make the very people she’d run from listen. Some nights she dreamt about it.
“Are you ready to go?”
Brandon’s voice called her out of her memories, but the motivation stayed with her as they made their way out of her home and into her truck.
* * * * *
Getting to the studio took them right past the bank. Brandon visibly twitched and Felicity couldn’t help but look over and watch as her passenger eyed the building like he was going to catch people looting the place in his absence.
“You want to go and check in?” she asked him. “They might need you to lock the vault so they don’t lend any money to crazy people like me.”
He frowned at her. “I just don’t like being disconnected.”
“You have checked your email three times since we left the house. I don’t think you’re that disconnected.”
“I like to be there with my team. I like to make sure things are…”
“Under your control?” Felicity finished for him as they pulled into a parking spot.
Brandon didn’t even try to deny it. “Exactly. I need to make sure I’ve got a handle on things, and that’s hard to do with only email.” He checked his phone again. “I like to have my hands on the reports and look into people’s eyes when they tell me things.”
“It’s a good way to do business.” Felicity agreed. She checked her teeth for lipstick in the rearview mirror before clicking the locks on the truck.
“Where are these interviews?”
Brandon asked, but from the look on his face, he’d already seen the tents that were set up in the back of the parking lot. The news story had gained a lot of attention, and the only way Debbie had agreed to share with the other news outlets was if they did so behind the building with the billboard advertising her own show in the background.
Felicity was surprised they took her up on it. It was one of those ballsy moves that she hoped to learn from out of this experience. Debbie had been emailing her too, but Felicity was a bit more reluctant than her roommate to jump at the notification and answer it. She was starting to question herself.
Not her idea. Felicity still believed in getting people in environmentally responsible houses that they can afford to maintain. She knew she could help create something wonderful in her community with this project, but she needed to show everyone else how right this was. She had to sell herself. She had to use her smile and her confidence to convince others.
Her smile hadn’t been as strong lately, and although she was always out and about in town, she was complimenting other people, not tooting her own horn.
The crowd of reporters seemed to spot her all at once, and when all those heads turned to look at her, her stomach dropped. Not only did they look like some creepy children of the corn who were about to ask her to come play with them, they all looked like they were calculating some complex equation.
They were judging her. She didn’t have anything that would even come close to business casual in her wardrobe. Debbie had suggested she go shopping, but Felicity had insisted she should do this as herself. Looking at the reporters whispering to cameramen, she knew they were probably talking about setting up shots and lighting, but as they kept pointing at her, she felt naked.
A little business casual armor might have helped her out. When Debbie came up with a sympathetic look, Felicity realized the reporter might have been telling her to dress up to protect herself.
“You take advice worse than I do, granola.”
Oh, and Debbie had started calling her granola. If granola wasn’t so tasty, Felicity might have been offended.
“I thought it would be best to not put on any airs. My idea is good and they should listen to me based on what I have to say, not what I’m wearing.”
Debbie laughed. “Girl, if that is how the world worked, I wouldn’t be wearing these heels.”
“I don’t own any heels.” Felicity felt out of place, but at least the flats she wore would let her run from the crowd faster.
“You don’t even have any for that blue Versace?”
Debbie turned at the name Versace and looked up at Brandon as if she was seeing him for
the first time. “Why are you here?”
“Nice to see you too, Deborah.” Brandon held out his hand, but pulled it back again when Debbie just stared at it and made no move to shake it. “Anyway, I was just coming along so I didn’t have to stay in the house by myself. It’s so little. I didn’t want to break anything.”
Deborah shook her head. “How are we supposed to talk about you if you’re here? And do you not know anything about these tiny homes? I’ve seen the plans. Her house is more solid than any lame traditionally built home plunked down in a subdivision. You couldn’t break that house without a super power.”
Felicity was going to ask who to speak with first, but the reporter from MSNBC pushed to the front of the pack and began asking questions. It took a moment to catch her breath, but Felicity realized even though she wasn’t wearing the dress, didn’t mean she couldn’t say something into this microphone. A reflective screen was aimed her way by an assistant to the cameraman, which made her blink before the person on the ground adjusted it.
Different kinds of spotlights here. But still the same opportunity. Felicity smiled as the red light on the camera turned on. She knew she was doing what she was supposed to. It was time to convince everyone else of that too.
Chapter Eighteen
It was different watching Felicity talk when she wasn’t trying to include him in the conversation. Brandon tried to ask Deborah why he wasn’t involved in this set of interviews but she’d blown him off to go over notes with a few other reporters.
Brandon was about to go and prod for answers about what her angle was on this story, when he heard Felicity laugh. At least someone was having a good time.
Another email came in. It was another of his assistants asking him to review some documents. He tried to pull up the item in his PDF viewer, but the print was too small on the tiny phone screen, and he’d have to wait until he got back home to look it over.