When I Found You by Brenda Novak
Keep Me Warm at Christmas
by Brenda Novak
Bracing herself—human interaction was something she now avoided whenever possible—Tia took a deep breath. Please, God, don’t let him recognize me or have anything to do with the media.
The blinds were already pulled, so she turned off the lights and cracked the door barely wide enough to be able to peek out at him with her good side. “What can I do for you?”
His scowl darkened as his gaze swept over what he could see of her. He must’ve realized she was wearing a robe, because he said, “I hate to drag you out of bed at—” he checked his watch “—two in the afternoon. But could you let me into the main house before I freeze my—” Catching himself, he cleared his throat and finished with, “Before I freeze out here?”
Assuming he was a worker of some sort—she couldn’t imagine why he’d be here, bothering her, otherwise—she couldn’t help retorting, “Sure. As long as you tell me why I should care whether you freeze or not.”
The widening of his eyes gave her the distinct impression that he wasn’t used to having someone snap back at him. So...maybe he wasn’t a worker.
“Because Maxi has offered to let me stay in his home, and he indicated you’d let me in,” he responded with exaggerated patience. “He didn’t text you?”
“No, I haven’t heard from him.” And surely what this man said couldn’t be right. Maxi had told her that she’d have the run of the place. She’d thought she’d be able to stay here without fear of bumping into anyone. She’d been counting on it.
“He was just getting on a plane,” he explained. “Maybe he had to turn off his phone.”
“Okay. If you want to give me your number, I’ll text you as soon as I hear from him.”
He cocked his head. “You’ll...what?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to come back later.”
“I don’t want to come back,” he said. “I just drove six hours, all the way from the Bay Area, after working through the night. I’m exhausted, and I’d like to get some sleep. Can you help me out here?”
His impatience irritated her. But since the accident, she’d been so filled with rage she was almost relieved he was willing to give her a target. “No, I’m afraid I can’t.”
He stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“I can’t let some stranger into the house, not unless Maxi specifically asks me to.” Even if this guy was telling the truth, forcing him to leave would not only bring her great pleasure, it would give her a chance to feed Maxi’s parrot before hiding the key under the mat. Then there would be no need for further interaction. He wouldn’t see her, and she wouldn’t have to watch the shock, recognition and pity cross his face.
The pity was by far the worst, but none of it was fun.
“If I have the code to the gate, I must’ve gotten it from somewhere, right?” he argued. “Isn’t it logical to assume that Maxi is the one who gave it to me?”
“That’s a possibility, but there are other possibilities.”
“Like...”
“Maybe you hopped the fence or got it from one of the staff. You could even have worked here yourself.”
His chest lifted in an obvious effort to gather what little patience he had left. “I assure you, if I was a thief, I would not present myself at your door.”
“I can appreciate why. But I’m responsible for what goes on here right now, which means I can’t take any chances.”
“You won’t be taking any chances!” he argued in exasperation. “If anything goes missing or gets damaged, I’ll replace it.”
What was to guarantee that? “The art in that house can’t be replaced,” she said and thought she had him. Maxi had told her so himself. But this stranger said the only thing that could trump her statement.
“Except by me, since I’m the one who created most of it in the first place,” he said dryly.
“You’re an artist?” she asked but only to buy a second or two while she came to grips with a few other things that had just become apparent. If he was one of the artists Maxi collected, he wasn’t some obscure talent. Yet...he couldn’t be more than thirty. And he certainly didn’t look like anyone who was too important wearing that stretched-out “Perspective” T-shirt, in which the word perspective was inverted, and jeans that had holes down the front.
“I am,” he replied. “And you are...the house sitter, I presume?”
She heard his disparaging tone. He wondered who the hell she was to tell him what to do. He thought he mattered more than she did. But that came as no surprise; she’d already pegged him as arrogant. She was more concerned about the fact that Maxi might’ve referred to her as a menial laborer. Was that the way her former producer thought of her now? Was that what she’d been reduced to already? It was only a few months ago that she’d been the most promising actress in Hollywood. Certainly she’d attained more fame than this snooty artist—when it came to having her name recognized by the general public, anyway.
But what did it matter how high she’d climbed? She’d fallen back to Earth so hard she felt as though she’d broken every bone in her body, even though the damage to her face was the only injury she’d sustained in the accident, other than a great deal of bruising that went away after the first week. “I’m house-sitting, yes. But, like you, I’m a friend of Maxi’s,” she said vaguely.
Fortunately, he didn’t seem interested enough to press her for more detailed information. She was glad of that.
“Fine. Look, friend.” He produced his phone. “I have proof. This is the text exchange I had with Maxi just before his plane took off. As you can see, he says he has someone—you—staying in the guesthouse but the main house is available and I’m welcome to it. If you’ll notice the time, you’ll see that these texts took place just this morning.”
Her heart sank as she read what he showed her: I have someone in the guesthouse. Just get the key from her.
“How long are you planning on being here?” she asked.
“Does it matter?” he replied.
It did matter. But this was Maxi’s estate, and they were both Maxi’s guests, so she had an obligation to treat him as well as he was accustomed to being treated. “Just a minute,” she said and muttered a curse after she closed the door. There goes all my privacy.
She got the key from the kitchen drawer before cracking the door open just wide enough to slip her hand through. “Here you go, but I’ll need your phone number so I can coordinate getting inside the house when I need to.”
“The main house? Why would you need to get inside that?”
“I take care of the plants. As easy as that may sound, in a house that’s over fourteen thousand square feet, it’s no small job. And I have to take care of Kiki, too.”
“Kiki?”
“Maxi’s parrot.”
“Maxi didn’t say anything about a parrot.”
“Well, he has one, and parrot-sitting requires more than throwing a handful of birdseed in a bowl. I was also going to dust and vacuum once a week to keep things up, since the housekeeper is on holiday. But if you’d rather take over those chores, I can show you how to do it all.”
“Nice try,” he said. “Who are you—Tom Sawyer’s sister? I’ll let you handle the parrot and the rest of it. And don’t worry. I won’t get in your way.”
She continued to hang back in the darkness so he couldn’t see her face. “You’d rather have me invade your space?”
“I won’t mind as long as you’re quiet. That bird isn’t going to be too loud, is it? Because I typically work at night and sleep during the day.”
She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. The tortured artist was such a cliché. “She sleeps at night, so she should be quiet while you create your latest masterpiece. During the day you might hear her speak or squawk or whatever.”
“She speaks?”
“She says a few phrases. Maxi used to have a dog, so she learned to bark, too.”
He narrowed his eyes as if he wasn’t quite sure she was being straight with him. “Sounds annoying.”
“It’s the reason he didn’t replace his dog once it passed. But you don’t have anything to worry about. She lives in an aviary in the middle of the house that goes up through both stories. The plants and the glass walls absorb most of the noise, so you shouldn’t hear much—not unless she’s upset and really having a problem.”
“How often does that happen?”
“She’s an animal. Emotional episodes aren’t scheduled. If we keep her happy, it might not happen at all.”
“Good to know. I’ll make you a copy of the key.” He turned to go but she spoke again.
“You don’t feel it would be too presumptuous to copy someone else’s house key?”
“Not if I’m going to be staying here for a few months. I consider it a practical matter. Why? Would you rather try to pass it back and forth between us?”
Her heart sank at learning he’d be living on the premises for more than just the weekend, but she tried to focus on the coordination sharing a key might require. “No. A copy will be fine.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said and cracked the first smile she’d seen him wear. He was getting in the house right away, would have his own key, and she’d be taking care of the bird. That he was gloating annoyed her, but she had to admit that his smile absolutely transformed his face. He was much more handsome than she’d wanted to acknowledge—in a dark lord of the underworld sort of way. She thought of all the beautiful people she’d encountered in Los Angeles and believed he could easily hold his own, even in the most superficial city on Earth.
She’d been able to compete in that arena once, too. As far back as she could remember, people had gushed about her beauty. But now she was living an entirely different life with an entirely different face—was a complete stranger, even to herself.
“Welcome to Silver Springs,” she said, her voice as frigid as the wind whipping at his clothes. He hadn’t bothered to put on a coat before getting out of the car. At least getting the key hadn’t been as quick as he’d obviously expected.
Instead of being offended by her response, he chuckled as he strode off. She didn’t even know his name. But that was fine with her. If he did anything wrong, Maxi could deal with it. She didn’t plan on interacting with him again. The only thing his presence meant to her was that there was now someone on the property she’d have to try to avoid.
Copyright © 2021 by Brenda Novak, Inc.
