True believer - Nicholas Sparks [95]
He came up behind her. “You wouldn’t happen to have a disposable razor in any of those drawers, would you?”
“No, sorry,” she said. “I’ll look in my bathroom, too, but . . .”
“No big deal,” he said, running his hand over his whiskers. “I’ll just go with the scruffy look tonight.”
Scruffy would be just fine, she decided, feeling herself blush. Turning away so he wouldn’t notice, she motioned to the shampoos. “Use whichever one you want,” she said. “And keep in mind that it takes a while for the hot water to come out, so just be patient.”
“Will do,” he said. “But I did want to ask if it’s okay to use your phone. I have to make a couple of calls.”
She nodded. “The phone’s in the kitchen.”
Edging past him, she sensed him watching her again, though she didn’t turn around to check. Instead, she went to her room, closed the door behind her, and leaned against it, embarrassed at the foolish way she’d been feeling. Nothing had happened, nothing would happen, she told herself again. She locked the door, hoping it would be enough to block out her thoughts. And it worked, at least for a moment, until she noticed that he’d placed her suitcase in her room.
Knowing that he’d been in here moments before gave her such a rush of forbidden anticipation that, even though she willed her mind blank, she had to admit that she’d been lying to herself all along.
By the time Jeremy returned to the kitchen after his shower, he could smell the sauce as it simmered on the stove. He finished his beer, found the garbage can below the sink, and threw the bottle away, then got another from the fridge. On the shelf below, he saw a fresh block of Parmesan cheese and an unopened jar of Amfiso olives; he debated sneaking one before deciding against it.
Locating the phone, he dialed Nate’s office number and was put through immediately. For the first twenty seconds, he held the receiver away from his ear while Nate went off the deep end, but when he finally calmed down, he reacted positively to Jeremy’s suggestion about the meeting next week. Jeremy ended the call with a promise to talk to him again tomorrow morning.
Alvin, on the other hand, was impossible to reach. After dialing the number and getting his voice mail, Jeremy waited for a minute and tried again with the same result. The clock in the kitchen showed that it was almost six, and Jeremy figured that Alvin was somewhere on the highway. Hopefully, they’d have a chance to talk before he went out tonight.
With nothing else to do and Lexie still nowhere in sight, Jeremy slipped out the back door and stood on the porch. The chill had deepened. The ever-increasing wind was cold and sharp, and though he couldn’t see the ocean, the waves rolled continuously, the sound rhythmic, lulling him into an almost trancelike state.
In time, he headed back into the darkened living room. Peeking down the hall, he noted a sliver of light beneath Lexie’s closed door. Unsure of what to do next, he turned on a small reading lamp near the fireplace. With just enough light to spill shadows through the room, he perused the books that had been stacked on top of the mantel before remembering the satchel. In his haste to get here, he hadn’t looked at Doris’s notebook yet, and after pulling it out of the satchel, he carried it with him back to the easy chair. As he took his seat, he felt the tension in his shoulders begin to ease for the first time in hours.
Now, this, he thought, was nice. No, change that. This felt like the way things always should be.
Earlier, as she heard Jeremy close the door to his room, Lexie stood near the window and took a pull of her beer, glad she had something to calm her nerves.
Both of them had kept their kitchen conversation superficial, keeping their distance until things were sorted out. She knew she should stay the course when she headed back out there, but as she set her beer aside, she realized that she didn’t want to keep her distance. Not anymore.
Despite the knowledge of the risks, everything about him had drawn her closer