Finding Home (9 page)

“Bacon, eggs, there’s pancake mix if you want pancakes or toast, cereal, orange juice… You name it.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Yeah, that sounds like breakfast to me.” “You want all of it?” Megan was about to make a crack about how he’d eat her out of house and home, but caught herself in time. “Sure. How do you like your eggs?” She turned from the refrigerator toward him and caught his gaze riveted below her waist.

Megan was still wearing her bedtime briefs and they suddenly felt way too short. The skin of her bare legs prickled at his attention.

Sean quickly looked up from her ass to her face. A smile quirked his lips. He moved into the room and reached his hand toward Megan’s. “I’ll cook them. It’s the least I can do.”

Still processing the fact he’d been checking out her butt, Megan surrendered the pair of eggs to him. There was a warm brush of skin on skin during the transaction and her fingers tingled when she pulled away.

Sean moved to the stove and cracked the eggs into the hot skillet. “Scrambled okay?”

“Sure.” As Megan got out silverware and plates, she thought about Sean’s interested scan of her assets. She’d been so caught up in fighting her sexual feelings for him she’d never considered the attraction might be mutual. Having him stay with her could be even more difficult than she’d imagined. After a breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, coffee and orange juice, Sean looked noticeably happier. Food agreed with him.

“So how do you feel this morning?” she asked, as she collected dishes and pans and piled them in the sink.

“Okay, I guess. Better.” He smiled again. It was a nice smile, a little crooked, highlighting the fact she hadn’t seen him smile often before. He got up and took the sponge from her hands. “I can do the dishes.”

Megan leaned against the counter, watching the back of Sean’s head as he busied himself with the washing-up. He was a neat worker, washing, rinsing and placing each item on the rack with practiced ease, even though it had to have been a while since he’d had the opportunity to do such a domestic task. It was strange to have him moving around her kitchen, touching her things, filling up the small space with his strong presence. Strange, but comforting too, and she knew she absolutely didn’t want him to leave today.

“I wanted to say…” She trailed off, feeling self-conscious. “I mean, you’re still pretty sore and if those guys have it in for you…” She stopped again. “What I’m trying to say is—stay for a few days. Please. I hate the thought of you being out there when you’re still so beat up.”

“I can’t—impose,” Sean muttered, his back still to her. He was done with the clean up and stood resting his hands on the edge of the sink.

“It wouldn’t be an imposition. Please, Sean.”

When he turned to face her, she knew she’d won the battle for now. He regarded her with solemn eyes. The depth of expression in them made his eyes appear ancient in contrast with the boyishly tousled hair falling over his forehead. He gripped the sponge in his hands. “Okay. Thanks.” He swallowed. “Thanks for trusting me.”

Megan shook her head. “Thanks for trusting
me
.”

After breakfast, Megan could see the day was going to stretch long and awkward in front of them if there was nothing to do. Sean seemed ill at ease and she wasn’t quite sure how to treat him. It was one thing to interact with him out on the street in his environment, quite another to have him invading hers. He was so…there. She decided the best way to pass the time would be to take him shopping for new clothes, and when she noticed him poring over the classifieds, she knew how to bring it up.

“You know, if you’re serious about looking for a job, we need to get you a better wardrobe.”

He looked up with his jaw set and a frown that told her he was going to protest.

“It would be a loan, of course. But you need a few shirts and trousers so you can look presentable at interviews.” Considering the multi-colored bruises that marked the left side of his face, she doubted a potential employer would give him two seconds in the condition he was in right now. “After you find a job, you can pay me a little. Whatever you can afford. Would that be okay?”

“I guess.” He frowned. “But I
will
pay you back. For everything.”

They shopped at a thrift store, since Megan’s income was severely budgeted. She could poke around for hours trying things on, but Sean quickly picked out some pants in black and navy, a pair of jeans, a couple of Oxford button-downs and both long and short sleeved tees in subdued colors. They stopped at a department store to purchase more basics, including shoes, socks and underwear.

It was a cheap shopping trip so Megan was able to talk him into the haircut he needed as well. She didn’t think he’d had it cut since she met him. It just kept growing longer and shaggier and, while she found it sexy as hell, it didn’t make for the neat appearance an employer wanted in a job applicant. The scruffy stubble had to go, too.

When Sean emerged shorn and shaved, he looked a great deal more reputable. Instead of appearing like a thug who’d been in a bar room brawl, he looked like a damaged, but clean cut young man.

“Now some lunch,” Megan said. “I’m starving.” They stopped in a deli and bought soup and sandwiches to eat outside at an umbrella-shaded table.

Sean dropped heavily into his seat, clearly exhausted. She felt terrible for making him walk and shop when he should probably be lying in bed resting.

“Thanks for everything,” he said abruptly. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

“No problem. That was like guerilla shopping. In, out, take no prisoners.”

“Guess I’m not much of a shopper.
”What do you like to do?“ she asked. ”Back when things were more normal for you, what hobbies or sports did you like?“

“Used to play baseball. And I liked basketball, too, but just a pick-up game in the neighborhood. I wasn’t on the school team or anything. I don’t know. Guess I just hung out with my friends and got into trouble.” He smiled at her over his bowl of soup. “Hooked up with a lot of girls.”

Megan felt the familiar flush creep up her neck at his words. It was embarrassing she couldn’t remain composed when he talked about anything remotely sexual. And she knew he purposely used that tone of voice, trying to make her blush because it was so easy. “Regular guy stuff,” she said.

“Yep. How about you? What are you interested in besides your career?”

She wasn’t sure if that comment was a dig, but he didn’t seem confrontational, so she answered. “Oh, lots of things. I like biking and rock climbing, even though I’m not terribly good at it, dancing at clubs— you should see me when I’ve had a drink or two—or maybe not. What else? Going to museums, movies, theater, sports, a bit of everything. That’s why I’m living in the city instead of back in my hometown. I like a lot of action.”

Sean’s smile widened at the double meaning and Megan’s cheeks blushed even redder. “I mean, there wasn’t a lot of cultural diversity or new things to experience there. I love living in L.A. I like the city, my friends and my job.”

“What’s your family like?” he asked.

Megan told him about her mom and dad, her overbearing sister Charlotte and her younger brother Chris, her ally and partner in crime growing up. She related family anecdotes and realized after a few minutes Sean had successfully deflected the conversation from his own history and onto hers. She was sure it was intentional.

ZY

When Megan woke the next morning, Sean was up and dressed already, sitting at the table, eating toast and looking at the want ads he’d circled. A half smoked cigarette dangled from his fingers and a cup of black coffee steamed in front of him. He looked up when she entered. “Morning.”

Megan breathed in the scent of the cigarette. She craved her old morning routine of coffee and a smoke for breakfast and fought the urge to ask for one from his pack. “Good morning. Um, Sean, I’d prefer it if you didn’t smoke in the apartment. I quit a while ago and it’s kind of— difficult to be around it now.”

“Okay,” he said, grinding the cigarette out on the saucer he used as an ashtray.

“I don’t mean to be uptight about it, but it really is a problem for me. You’re welcome to smoke by the open window if you want. I don’t want you to have to go outside every time you need to light up.”

“I should quit anyway,” he said in that tone of voice Megan knew all too well from all the times she’d said the same thing without really meaning it.

“I’m going to give you a key to the apartment so if you go out you can get back in,” she told him. “I have to leave for work in about an hour. Make yourself at home today. Eat anything decent you can find in the kitchen. I tend to get take-out often, so there’s not a lot to choose from in my cupboards. You might be stuck with a can of soup and a peanut butter sandwich.”

He toyed with the crushed cigarette butt. “If it’s too weird for you leaving me here alone with all your stuff, I understand. I can leave when you leave and come back later in the evening.”

Megan couldn’t tell him she was more afraid of him disappearing and not coming back than she was of trusting him with the key to her apartment. “No. It’s not a problem at all. I totally trust you, and if you’re going to stay here, you’ll need your own key.”

A ghost of a smile traced his lips, and she could tell he was pleased by her confidence. “Thanks.”

An hour later, Megan was dressed and on her way to work, yet still managed to arrive late. The morning traffic somehow always took her by surprise. She walked quickly to her desk with a cup of coffee in one hand and her jacket slung over the other arm, trying to look like she’d been there a while.

Of course Rossi skulked just outside his office and beckoned her before she reached her desk. Megan set down the coffee, flung her jacket on her chair and followed him into his office.

She sat facing his desk, feeling like she’d been sent to the vice-principal’s office. How many times could one be late to work before being fired?

“Good work on that hooker article,” he said without preamble. “Of course, the subject’s been exhausted. Who really needs to see another story about the plight of homeless kids in the city?”

Her heart sank.
“Still, some good stuff there.” He looked at her from over the tops of his glasses. “If you work on it a little, I can probably print it. I sent the article to your shared file with my suggestions.”

Megan let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and resisted the impulse to throw her arms around Rossi’s neck. “Yes. Yeah, I can do that,” she assured him. “Whatever you think it needs.”

“Meanwhile,” Rossi tapped a pen against his desk. “I have something else you can cover—if you have time for it.”

“Oh, I have time. I’ll make time.”
“It’s a quickie. The St. Gervase Community Club is building a playground for the barrio kids in a vacant lot on Hespera Street. They’re having a work day next Saturday, members of the church and the neighborhood working together to create joy and harmony from despair— blah, blah, blah. Take some pictures, get a few quotes and let’s see what you do with it.”

Megan did her best to suppress the wide smile that threatened to crack the professional demeanor she was trying to establish. “Thank you so much for the assignment and for considering my article.”

“By the way,” he said. “What happened to the kid with the overdose?” “He was placed in a foster home. I called Child Services, but I couldn’t find out exactly where he is.”

“And how about that other kid, Mouth? Did he get out like he planned?”

“I think he’s working on it,” she said.

Megan turned to leave and Rossi’s voice stopped her.
“By the way, Ms. Lennox, if you plan to continue as a copy editor here and write articles, too, you might want to work on your time management skills. You were a half hour late this morning.”

“Yes, sir,” Megan said sheepishly.

She exited his office and returned to her desk without breaking into a victory dance. She could see Cynthia and Bob and some of the others watching her, wondering what Rossi’s business with her had been. She wanted to shout her news to the whole office, but managed to maintain her composure until she was sitting at her desk.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” she hissed under her breath, tap-dancing her feet underneath her desk. Twenty-three years old, almost fresh out of college and she was already being given writing assignments. Since Bob had told her she could expect to languish as a copy editor for years, she wanted to go and rub his face in it. But she’d be cool and let the news about her reporter status trickle down through the newsroom staff at its own pace.

ZY

When she called home, the phone rang five times before her own voice answered her with that stupid message she’d recorded when she was half drunk. God, she needed to change that. She wondered if Sean was out of the apartment or simply not picking up.

“Hey,” she said when the beep finally came. “It’s me. Pick up if you’re around. —Okay, guess you’re not, then. I’ll be home late. If you’re hungry, eat. Don’t wait for me. Bye.”

When Megan finally arrived home, her apartment was dark. She flipped on the light and immediately scanned the room, looking for anything that might be missing. All her possessions were intact and her knee-jerk mistrust of Sean made her feel ashamed.

Then her heart sank at the thought he’d left for good—until she noticed his stuff was still piled in a corner of the living room. He’d washed more clothes and they were folded on top of his duffel bag.

She assumed he was still out job hunting and prepared a quick dinner of grilled cheese and salad. When he didn’t turn up, she ate alone, saving his share.

By ten o’clock, Megan’s irritation had turned to concern. What if something had happened to Sean? Maybe he’d gone back to his squat and run into the same kids who’d beaten him up earlier. Or worse, he’d decided to make a quick buck and was with a client. Perhaps his injuries were more serious than she’d thought and he’d collapsed somewhere. She didn’t even know what to do—it wasn’t like she could call the police or report him missing.

She was starting to consider going back to the street and asking any of the kids whether they’d seen him when she heard the key turn in the lock.