So, I turned the knob, and nothing happened.
Because it was still locked.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I turned the lock on the knob and tried again.
Light clatters registered from the kitchen, and in an effort to be social with my new roommates, I headed toward the noise instead of planting myself on the vacant living room couch.
Adair was standing by the sink, a stainless-steel bowl cradled in his arm as he whisked something into submission. He was in a loose heather grey T-shirt with a fire station’s faded logo on the front and black sweatpants, his forearm muscles tight as he worked whatever was in that bowl.
“Good morning,” I said once there was a break from the noise of his food prep.
His head whipped toward me, his lips parting in surprise. He was looking at me over the top of his glasses, which had slid down his nose. We looked at each other for a long moment before he seemed to snap back into himself, craning his face toward his shoulder and shrugging to push them back up his face.
It was horribly adorable.
“Good morning,” he said, a shy smile on his face as he moved his gaze between the bowl and me. “Doin’ good today?”
“I am,” I said as I sat at the table and opened my notebook. “And you?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Good.” His eyes traced down me briefly, but he seemed to catch himself and looked back at the bowl as he started whisking again, a little more aggressively this time.
I pulled up a few pages on ballroom dance on my phone to refresh myself and write out an actual lesson plan, more than fine with the silence between us. Adair’s movements and sounds in the kitchen were actually soothing, a kind of company I could deal with easily.
Drawing a line down the middle of the page with thepen I’d snagged from the cup on the table, I got to work on making two separate schedules for today. One for a class with Miss Trish, and one without.
Seemed safest.
Glancing up from my notebook a few minutes later, I found Adair’s hazel eyes pinned on me, a small smile on his face. “You’re up working early,” he said, his shyness seeming to have eased.
I pointed at the pans and bowls laid out on the counter with my pen. “Same goes for you.”
He placed a couple of pans on the stovetop before turning his attention back to me. “I’m used to early mornings at the station. A few night shifts here didn’t seem to change that habit, unfortunately.”
“The station?”
His smile remained as he talked, almost as if it was just part of him. Whatever the opposite of resting bitch face was, that’s what Adair Jacks had.
Which was why he’d been the talk of Zinnia House all week. He and Adeline both. Nurses, doctors, admin, and residents alike had taken notice of him. Adeline for her sunny attitude and Adair for the same, plus the way he made residents laugh by rolling around everywhere on his stool.
I bet he had no idea he’d made such an impression.
“Yeah, back in Georgia,” he explained, bracing his hands on the counter, arms flexing, “I worked out of two fire stations. Or I did, at least, before the, umm….” He frowned down at his foot, then pushed off the counter and started opening drawers at random.
It was suspicious.
I twirled my pen in my hand. “Two stations? Is that common?”
He picked the bowl back up and started ladling pancake batter onto the sizzling pans.
“Yeah, it is. Not the safest practice, but it’s a loophole so you can get more hours.”
The smell of vanilla and hot griddle hit me, and I realized…he saw my note.Unless he’d just taken a lucky guess, he’d gone back to his room to check if I would write back.
For God knew what reason, my face heated.
About pancakes.
I flipped the page of my notebook and started doodling.Must get these demons out.
