You Shouldn't Have Come Here(3)

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” I didn’t really like people touching my stuff.

“Nonsense.” He pressed the button below the license plate, popping the trunk.

“Is this because of the whole damsel thing?” I teased.

“No, Grace. I specialize in hospitality.”

Hoisting both bags out of the car, he threw one over his shoulder and carried the other. “I’ll treat you so good, you won’t want to leave. That’s my motto,” Calvin said, widening his smile.

“Follow me,” he added in a cheerful voice as he walked across the driveway toward the ranch.

I glanced at the old beat-up car I drove here in and then back at him, hesitating for a moment. A sinking feeling hit me in my gut, and it felt like I was free-falling for a moment. It passed quickly, before I even had a chance to react to it, to consider it, to wonder what it was. I swallowed hard and pushed myself to follow him. One foot in front of the other.





2.

Calvin


I set Grace’s bags down beside the queen bed. “This is your room,” I said, gesturing with my hand.

Grace walked in behind me carrying a tote and her purse. She looked around the room, her face expressionless as she studied every corner and square foot. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or not. I thought about redecorating when I started renting rooms out on Airbnb, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My mother had put it together, a mix of things she made and things she found. It was last decorated in the seventies but was back on trend again, or so my neighbor lady had told me.

Grace put her items on the bed and hesitated for a moment before turning back toward me. Her eyes started at my waist and moved up to my face. She smelled like a mix of daisies and gasoline, which was odd, but I didn’t say anything. That would be rude. Her hair was golden blond and went right to the middle of her back. Her eyes were the bluest blue I had ever seen, so blue, they almost didn’t look real. She was wearing a tight black skirt, heels, and a blouse with some sort of bunched-up fabric. I’m sure where she was from, it was fashionable, but girls ’round here didn’t wear stuff like that. Her soft face was in direct contrast to her all-black attire, and I couldn’t help but stare at her pouty lips, waiting for her to say something.

“It’s perfect.” She smiled, but I caught a hint of apprehension in her voice.

I let out a deep breath, and she laughed.

Grace raised an eyebrow. “Were you nervous I wouldn’t like it?”

“Well.” I shifted my stance from one leg to the other. “I don’t really get any female guests, and I wasn’t sure a city girl like yourself would be comfortable in a place like this.”

“If I can find comfort in New York City amongst the rats and cockroaches, I can find it anywhere.” Grace swung her suitcase onto the bed in one fell swoop. She most certainly was strong because that thing had to have weighed at least fifty pounds.

“Need any help?” I offered.

This was the awkward part of hosting guests. I never knew if they wanted me to stay and chat or leave them alone. I was sure Grace was the latter but I was already drawn to her like a moth to a flame or them damn coyotes to my chickens, so anything I could do to buy some more time with her, I would.

She shook her head. “No, I got it,” Grace said matter-of-factly. She grabbed her black leather bag, bent down beside the bed, and slid it all the way under.

“Top secret stuff?” I joked, scratching at the back of my neck.

She stood and looked at me, her brows drawn together. “Just work stuff for emergencies only. If I don’t put it out of sight, I’ll find myself replying to emails and taking calls, and I am here to relax, not work.” It seemed she was trying to convince herself of that more than me. We had more in common than she knew. I too had to keep busy. Idle hands, as they say, are the devil’s workshop.

“I can lock it away in the basement if ya want.”

“I like the idea but that won’t be necessary.” Grace unzipped her large suitcase and flung it open, revealing a stack of books and a perfectly organized bag. I knew she liked to read. It was on her Airbnb profile, and I figured she’d spend a lot of her time here with her nose in a book. Everything was contained in individual packing cubes. Grace opened one up and dumped a pile of lacy bras and silky panties onto the floral bedspread. She glanced at me briefly and then directed her attention back at her task. I took that as my cue that Grace wanted to be left alone.

“I’ll leave you to it.” I tipped an imaginary hat and took a couple of steps back toward the hall.

Her head snapped in my direction, and her mouth slowly parted. “Actually, why don’t you show me around first. I can unpack later.”

“I’d love to. Let’s start with the fridge, cuz I could use a beer right about now.” I chuckled.

Grace cracked a smile. “Same,” she said.

I didn’t take her for a beer girl, and I couldn’t help but smile either.

Before she stepped toward me, Grace pulled off her heels and let out a sigh of relief while she wiggled her toes. Her toenails were painted a deep scarlet red like her fingernails.

Out in the kitchen, I pulled two Bud Lights from the fridge and popped the tops off against the heavy wood countertop. Grace took one from me. The lip of the bottle rested in between her full lips, and she made a refreshing sound when she was done. I stared in awe.