Exposed (Let Me Love You #3)

Chapter 4

4

HIDING OUT

LUCY “PEPPER”

I wake up with a jolt. Sun shines through the window, but I’m not in my car.

The stale, greasy smell of my Mazda is nowhere to be found. Instead, it’s replaced with a masculine, slightly citrus, fresh and woodsy scent.

Shoot . Where am I?

“Settle down. You’re with me, Pepper,” a deep male voice rumbles in my ear.

Memories flood my mind. Catering the wedding. The bearded jerk. Matt gave me a place to stay.

My hands roam over my body finding zero injuries and my sleep shirt still on. Well, he’s not a serial killer, at least. Not that I really believed he was, but people can disguise themselves well. Matt didn’t take advantage of me, and he didn’t hurt me. He could’ve done either of those things once I fell asleep, but he didn’t. Those are good signs.

Plus, I confessed my dream to him: being a mom. I’ve never shared that with anyone.

Throughout college, I nannied while I got my degree in accounting. I fell in love with taking care of babies and kids. Being able to show love to children in a way I was never shown helped heal my heart. But it doesn’t make money like a finance degree does. I didn’t want to have financial problems like my parents always did. So, I chose finance over nannying.

Matt’s arm protectively bands around my waist, and I don’t hate it. His nearness pushes out the troubling thoughts of my previous life. The one I’m not sure I’ll ever go back to.

This full night’s rest was divine. Usually, the few times I nod off, my three or four minute nap is punctuated by a recurring nightmare.

However, last night’s dream was different. The beginning was the same, but the ending changed. In my familiar nightmare, the cops never believe me. For the first time last night, they did. Not to mention, last night was the best rest I’ve had since my world turned upside down two months ago.

Speaking of which, I need money.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Nine.”

I work at ten.

“You don’t strike me as someone who sleeps in,” I murmur.

“I didn’t. I’ve already worked out, showered and made breakfast. I came back in here to check on you,” he responds.

“You what?” I turn around in his arms so I can see his face. In my entire life, no one has ever checked on me.

“Wanted to make sure you were okay,” he reiterates, nothing but sincerity in his blue gaze.

Gosh, he’s insanely hot. His neatly trimmed beard doesn’t hide his sharp jawline and his perfect cheekbones. His bright blue eyes search mine, and a lock of his dark blonde hair falls on his forehead.

Who is this guy? Letting strangers stay in his house, then checking on them. I’ve never met a man like him.

“Is this your small town upbringing?” I ask.

“Maybe. Or I just have an affinity for my house guest,” he winks at me.

“You’re such a flirt. I need to get ready for work,” I wriggle in his hold.

“Your catering job?” He asks, loosening his hold so I can get up.

“Yeah. A quinceanera.”

“I’ll warm up breakfast before you go,” he stands from the bed in his gray shorts and nothing else. The sight of his bare feet and torso makes my stomach flip. My stars, he is fine. Like ultra-fine.

“You can use my bathroom. It’s bigger,” he offers.

“Thanks, but it’s fine. I already have my stuff in your other one.”

Since I showered last night, it doesn’t take long for me to get ready. When I look in the mirror of the guest bathroom, I hardly recognize myself. My natural dark blonde hair is a dark brown color now. I’ve always had long hair, but I took the scissors to it a couple of months ago, and now it doesn’t even touch my shoulders.The bags under my eyes reveal how tired I am.

And I’m hungry, but I haven’t been eating enough. I’m trying to save money, and sometimes skipping meals means faster saving.

I miss makeup, but I’m not wasting hard earned cash on that right now. I wash my face with cold water, pinch my cheeks for a little color and call it good.

We have to wear our hair up at work, but mine is hardly long enough for a braid anymore. Noticing my light roots are showing, I make a mental note to buy a box of hair dye after work. I comb and pull my locks into a ponytail, then put on my work uniform.

I bought three of them, and I have to go to the laundromat today after I’m done working.

My eyes take in the beautiful photography on the walls again as I pad down the hallway on plushcarpet. One is of a sparkling waterfall nestled in between huge black rocks, and another is a sunset over glittering ocean waves. Matt’s house seems magical compared to where I grew up.

When I walk into the kitchen, I stop short with the smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs. Matt’s small table is set for two, the window next to it open to let the ocean breeze in.

“Pepper,” Matt calls, and my eyes snap to his.

“What?” I ask.

He’s still shirtless, walking towards the table with two plates, one full of scrambled eggs and one with bacon stacked on it.

He cooked for me. No one’s ever cooked for me.

“You know what’s telling?” He sets the plates down at the table and waves me over to sit down, but I’m frozen in place. “I said ‘Lucy’ twice and you didn’t budge, but the very second I said, ‘Pepper,’ you looked at me.”

“Um…” I stutter, fully in a stupor from both him cooking for me and him calling me out on my fake name.

He picks up a slice of bacon and takes a bite. “Either you love my nickname for you, or Lucy isn’t your real name.”

I don’t know what to say. No one has questioned my new identity. And right now, I can’t think past the fact that he cooked for me. My eyes fill with tears, and I look away so he can’t see.

“You don’t have to sleep in your car. Stay with me. If you tell me what’s going on, I can help you,” he continues in my silence.

And he wants me to stay with him . I can’t help it. A tear breaks free, and I quickly swipe it away.

“Hey,” his voice softens. “What’s wrong?” He stands and walks over to me.

“Why do you want to help me?” I look up at him with watery eyes. I can’t believe his offer. The scarier thought is, I think I trust him. I’m not supposed to trust anyone.

“Why not help you? I have the money and means to do so. There’s no reason for you to go it alone,” he reasons.

“If you find another homeless girl today, will you bring her home?” I challenge. I can’t help but be prickly. I’m used to being on my own.

“I don’t have that much extra room, smart aleck, but I’d like to help you.” He wipes one of my tears away with his thumb.

Shani nudges my leg, and when I look down at her, she cocks her head and wags her tail.

“Your dog has three legs. You like taking in homeless strays,” I surmise. “No offense, Shani.”

“Shani was born with a limb difference, and she’s more amazing than most dogs with four legs. Are you insinuating you’re a stray?” He raises one eyebrow at me, and my core tingles.

I’ve always been a sucker for a guy raising one eyebrow at me. It’s cute, and not everyone can isolate that muscle.

“I am literally a homeless stray,” I admit, although it hurts to say that.

“You’re not,” he argues. “Like I said last night, I want a roommate. Call it fate. Since I met you last night, I’ve had this immediate sense of friendship with you. Is that a common thing for you? Do people tell you they feel comfortable with you right after they meet you?”

“No.” I shift on my feet.

“Huh. We must be kindred spirits then. You're safe here. You’re safe with me ,” he assures.

That may be true, but I’m probably putting you in danger by staying here.