Rm W/a Vu (5 page)

After sending my mom a quick text to let her know I’m here, I ring the bell, pulling my hands back and clasping them in front of me nervously. Through the glass on the door, I can see someone approaching, and I suck in a breath, preparing myself to be shooed away like some door-to-door solicitor who probably knows better than to show up here.

The minute the door opens, I release the breath I’m holding and stare like I’ve never stared before. The man standing before me is…well, he’s absolutely gorgeous. His hair is a disheveled brown mess atop his head, his jawline sharp and covered in short stubble. I find myself wondering how it would feel against my skin, and a blush warms my cheeks. Then…oh god,
then
I find his eyes. His piercing, dark blue eyes. They’re only made more stunning when he smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly.

“You must be Juliette.” I think my head moves up and down, but if it is, it feels disconnected from the rest of me. There’s an awkward pause between us when his eyes lock with mine.

He’s nothing like I imagined him to be. First, he’s certainly not a 60-something-year-old bald guy in boxers and a sweat-stained tee. While I am thankful for this, it also worries me because how can I possibly live with a guy this good-looking? Standing within a foot of him makes my knees feel weak…not to mention the deep tickle that starts in my belly and works its way south of the border.

What the hell
is
that?
It’s a rhetorical question, because I know what is happening with my body…but to be feeling this over a complete stranger? It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced—even with Ben—and my cheeks burn like they’re on fire.

We’re still staring at one another, and I honestly don’t know how much time has passed. I know I’m supposed to say something, but my brain and my mouth aren’t cooperating with each other right now. 

The man must be confused, because his eyebrows pull together. “Are you not?”

My lips part, but the only sound that escapes is a breathless, “Huh?”

He chuckles. I enjoy the sound even more in person than over the phone. “Are you Juliette?”

“Yes,” I manage to squeak out. “Sorry, yes. I called last night about—”

“The room,” he finishes for me. “I remember. I’m Greyston Masters.” After introducing himself, he offers me his hand, and I take it. The way his warm hand closes securely around my own makes me sigh.

Get a grip!
I inwardly scold myself, yanking my arm back and hugging it to my chest while my cheeks continue to flame. He regards me with one raised eyebrow. Clearly he thinks I’m insane and won’t want to take me on as a tenant. I should probably just g—

“Please, come in. I’ll show you the house and the available room for rent,” he offers, gallantly stepping off to the side to invite me in.

“Oh,” I say, somewhat shocked that he hasn’t slammed the door in my face with such force that I stumble backward. “Great.”

Once I’m inside, he closes the door. “Follow me.”

I listen, because I feel somewhat compelled to. It’s strange, this feeling I’m experiencing, but I shake it off because deep down I know I don’t believe in any of it. I even start to consider the possibility that I’m just seeking some kind of rebound.

I bet Greyston would be a great reboun—

I derail that train of thought before things inside my head get inappropriate—
er
.

We make our way slowly through the main level, and I can’t stop ogling the man. I do hear him; it’s just my eyes that aren’t paying attention. He shows me the living room first, and I’m proud of myself for being able to tear my eyes away from him long enough to admire his ability to decorate his home without it looking like a total bachelor pad.

He laughs, and I feel my heart quicken as I take in the way his eyes sparkle and how the outer corners crease when his smile reaches them. “My mother may have influenced a few of my decisions.”

“Meaning she made them for you,” I quip playfully, a wide smile forming.

“Essentially, yes.”

As we make our way through the rest of the main floor, my eyes continually find their way back to Greyston. His messy hair, the cut of his jaw…but mostly his ass. I can’t help it. I blame whoever designed the jeans he’s wearing. In fact, I am currently trying to devise a way to check out the tag on his pants so I can send an angry note…or a thank you letter; I’m still not entirely sure.

I have to get myself back under control, because if I do decide to live here, things could get awkward. I don’t want awkward. I
have
awkward at my parents’ house.

“The basement is just through this door. It’s finished, and the laundry room is down there.” He pauses briefly, seemingly nervous. “I’d show it to you, but I can imagine that leading a girl that responded to an ad I placed in the paper down into my basement might seem a little daunting.”

While I feel like I can trust him, my logical inner voice does kick in…and it sounds an awful lot like my father. “Not a problem. I’m okay. Thanks, though. It’s always good to know.”

The kitchen is open with a small dining set near the patio door. Through the glass, I see a sleek stone deck that looks out toward the desert. It's absolutely stunning, and I'm suddenly very aware that there's no way I am going to be able to afford this place. Yes, it probably shouldn't have taken me this long to figure that out, but it did.

I’m just about to say something when Greyston speaks up. “Come on. I’ll show you the upstairs.”

“O-okay,” I stammer.

Leading the way back through the kitchen and to the main entry, we turn left toward the stairs and begin our ascent. We walk down the hall, peer first into the study and then the washroom before Greyston shows me which room is his. He’s got his own bathroom, which means I won’t have to worry about sharing…

Apparently, I’ve fallen back into thinking I’m moving in here, regardless of obviously not being able to afford it.

“And this is the available room,” Greyston says, opening the door across the hall from his and next to the study. He doesn’t enter, instead standing in the hall while I step through and then following me inside. There is a queen-sized bed, which beats the single in my room at Mom and Dad’s as well as the one at my old dorm room, and it’s dressed in basic white linens, probably to showcase the pale Caribbean blue color of the walls. There is also a tall white dresser against the wall next to the door, and a shorter, longer dresser on the opposite side of the room.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom here too, so you’d have complete privacy,” Greyston says softly from behind me. “And here”—Greyston goes to one of the two doors in my room and opens it—“is the closet.”

Curious, I poke my head in, only to inhale a breath when I see it’s quite possibly larger than my current bedroom. “This is incredible,” I say quietly, taking a step back and away from the closet. It’s then that I notice the floor-to-ceiling drapes that must be hiding the window. Turning to Greyston, I point at them. “May I?”

In response, Greyston crosses his arms and leans against the wall, smiling brightly. “Be my guest.”

The size of the closet shocked me, but what I find behind the curtains quite literally takes my breath away. I push the white drapes back, but instead of finding a basic window, I find French doors that lead to a balcony. The fact that I can see the desert means we’re right above the kitchen.

The ad isn’t wrong; this room has a view, and it’s unbelievable. I open the doors and step out onto the balcony. Not only can I see the desert, but when I look down I see there’s a pool too. Living here would be incredible.

“So,” Greyston says, stepping into my peripheral view, “what do you think?”

“It’s amazing,” I reply breathlessly. “But, I’m afraid to ask how much it is.”

“Why don’t we head back down to the kitchen, and we can discuss that there,” he suggests.

Sadly, I know that no matter how much we discuss it, there is absolutely no way I’ll be able to afford it. I really should just tell him, but for some reason when I try to speak nothing comes out.

When we reach the stairs, I notice a closed door at the end of the hall. Of course, I’m curious, but when I look to Greyston, he’s halfway down the stairs. Realizing it’s not my place, nor is it likely my business, I push the curiosity to the backburner and follow Greyston to the kitchen.

“Can I offer you something to drink? I could put on some water for tea, or I’ve got fresh lemonade in the fridge,” Greyston offers, pulling out one of the chairs at the table for me.

This chivalrous act catches me off guard, but I recover quickly, smiling. “Thanks. Um, lemonade sounds lovely.”

“Coming right up.”

Greyston returns moments later with two glasses and sits in the seat across from me. “So, Juliette,” he begins, “tell me a bit about yourself.”

“Well, I’m an only child and a student in my sophomore year at Arizona State. I work at Mama Java’s Coffeehouse… Um, what else do you want to know?” I ask.

He seems to be perplexed about something, but before I can ask, he voices whatever is on his mind. “I apologize if this comes across as rude, but if you’re a student, why aren’t you staying in on-campus housing? I mean, that would seem to make the most sense.”

I smile, though it’s not an overly happy one. “I was staying in a dorm, but the girl I bunked with had…less than desirable traits that one might look for in a roommate.”

It seems like Greyston understands without my having to say much more. “Ah. She couldn’t respect boundaries.”

I laugh and take a sip of my drink. “Something like that,” I tell him. “And now I’m back at home with my parents.”

“And that doesn’t work for you either?” he inquires.

“Mmm,” I hum, somewhat uncomfortably. “Not so much.” It’s time to admit that I can’t afford this place, so I inhale a deep breath and say, “Look. The house is great, and the room is unbelievably beautiful…but the truth of the matter is, I just don’t think I can afford it. I want to—believe me, I do—but with my being a full-time student and working whenever I’m not busy studying…well, it’s just not feasible.”

Greyston chuckles again, and I begin to wonder if it’s possible to miss something you’ve only been briefly exposed to.

My guess would be yes.

“Juliette, I haven’t even told you how much the rent is.”

Wrapping both hands around my lemonade glass and feeling the cold beads of condensation on my palms, I shake my head. “I can’t imagine it to be cheap. I mean, the mortgage alone on a home like this has to be—”

“Surprisingly lower than one might expect with a large enough down payment,” Greyston says, cutting me off before I can completely turn him down. If it had been anyone else interrupting me, I probably would have gotten annoyed, but not him. Not in this moment, anyway.

“Listen, Juliette,” he continues, “I’m constantly on the road for work—sometimes for weeks at a time—and am in need of someone to watch over the place while I’m away.”

“Still—”

Again, he doesn’t let me finish. “You’d really be doing me a favor,” he says as I bring my glass to my lips. “Five hundred a month.”

The number shocks me, causing me to choke and sputter on the drink I’ve just taken. “What? You can’t be serious…Are you saying that because I basically just told you that I’m poor?”

Greyston’s laughter fills the kitchen. “Not at all. I just figured that since I was basically asking you to house-sit whenever I’m away that it would be unfair of me to ask an unreasonable amount for rent.”

I don’t know what to say—a first, to be sure. Here I am, sitting in a gorgeous home in a beautiful new community—which is coincidentally not too far from school—and it’s actually affordable
without
my parents’ help? It’s all just too good to be true. The fact that my potential landlord is easy on the eyes doesn’t hurt, either.

The kitchen is silent, save for the soft
tick, tick, tick
of the clock over the doorway. Greyston is watching me, waiting for my answer. He doesn’t look annoyed that I’m taking my time—and I’m honestly not sure why I am, because I basically want to say yes to anything he might suggest…and I do mean
anything
.

Finally, I find my voice. “I only have one more question.”

Greyston nods once, slowly and carefully, as though he’s afraid of what my question might be. It’s really pretty adorable.

“When can I move in?”

Chapter 5

I
don’t regret the question, but the minute it leaves my mouth, I realize I should probably know more about the man sitting in front of me. Besides how gorgeous he and his home are.

Before I find the opportunity to back-pedal and ask about him, Greyston smiles and responds to my question. “Whenever is good for you. I know we’re just over three weeks into November, but feel free to bring your stuff by any time. Perhaps over the Thanksgiving long weekend, but after the actual holiday?”

“Really?” Greyston nods and takes a sip of his lemonade. When he licks his lips afterward, I find it hard to focus on anything else. The way I’m feeling really is ridiculous, and I momentarily question my sanity.