“Or. What about a window? Would you speak with me through one of the windows?”

  Silence followed my words. For a long moment, I thought maybe I’d pushed her too far, too fast. But then I heard a small, “okay.”

  The deck to her house stretched around the entirety of the main level. We had a number of windows to choose from. And really, I’d already been wondering which one might be Lou’s bedroom window before this moment. “Which window is good?”

  “The living room window.”

  “Okay.” I went to what I figured was one of the living room windows. Except the blinds were drawn and it was impossible to tell. “This one?” I yelled when the bottom of the window cracked open about four inches. “The blinds?” I dared to ask.

  Lou didn’t raise the blinds. Instead, she turned them so they were cracked open. Through the slits, I got my first small glimpse of her, sitting on the couch backward, staring at me, her blue eyes like icy pools through the lines of the blinds.

  I smiled. I smiled so fucking wide. “Hi.”

  “Hi, Finn.”

  Dammit, I was done.

  My glimpse of her face was cut in pieces by the window covering, but she was more beautiful than I remembered. If I had any of my art supplies with me, I would have wanted to draw her right on the spot. No hoodie today—and she was blonde. The lightest of blondes. I’d drawn her with the wrong hair color in my graphic novel. I’d have to go back and fix that later tonight.

  “Hi,” she whispered. “I’m shaking,” she muttered. “I’m shaking, Finn. This is why I need practice. I can’t talk to people I don’t know without shaking. Without panicking. Without falling apart. I’ll never be able to see you face-to-face, let alone kiss you. I’m quite certain I’m broken.”

  Last night I’d made the mistake of comparing my love of art and being alone to Lou’s illness. I realized right then that what she experienced everyday with her agoraphobia was much more debilitating than anything I’d ever experienced in my own life. “But I’m not a person you don’t know anymore. I’m not a stranger you’re talking to. You know me now.”

  I crouched down closer to the open window.

  “Let me tell you what happened with Patrick last night. Patrick’s the receptionist that was there the day you came in with Nick. We went out to this bar that’s over the bridge. He hasn’t been laid in months, and I promised to be his wingman. He’s been crushing on a bartender at this bar for a few weeks now. And I made a complete fool of myself when I tried to introduce us. I said, hi I’m Finn and you must be the chipmunk girl. I don’t know why that popped out of my mouth. I’m usually much smoother. Although, in my defense, her voice had the highest pitch I’ve ever heard in my life. And ‘the chipmunk girl’ is what Patrick always calls her, so yeah. That’s how last night went. I blew it for him.”

  She breathed out. Her mouth wasn’t far from the four inches of screen separating us. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to distract me with a cute, funny, meaningless little story. Make me laugh. Get me out of my head.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Somewhat.”

  “Good. So, needless to say, Patrick did not go home with his ‘chipmunk’ girl last night.”

  “And you?”

  “For the first time in a long time, I went home alone. I’m all yours for the next two weeks, remember? As promised. I won’t be going home with other girls during that time.”

  Through the blinds I think I saw her smile. And it warmed my damned cold heart. Warmed it like a straight shot of whiskey on a winter day.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to waste the two weeks being my crazy self,” she whispered.

  Then I’ll push it longer than two weeks, I thought.

  I couldn’t believe I thought it, too. Although, she had me practically hugging the side of Nick’s house, waiting to get as close to her as I possibly could. And to think I’d thought I was bored a couple weeks back—this was the furthest from boredom I’d ever been before.

  “We won’t waste it,” I muttered.

  “I’ll try not to.”

  “Same.”

  “Thanks for being so nice, Finn.”

  I wasn’t really a nice guy, but I’d take the compliment from her. “Anytime.”

  ~ CHAPTER 13 ~

  LOU

  From Monday through Thursday, Finn came to visit me around noon. We’d been meeting at the living room window and through the screen we’d talk. Three out of those four days, he’d brought me lunch. Finn would pop off the screen, hand me whatever deliciousness he’d gotten for us to share, and then he’d click the screen window back into place. I hadn’t asked him to start doing this. He’d just sort of taken it upon himself. I think he enjoyed seeing my reaction to foods that I’d never tried before.

  Living in the library meant most days I had to eat whatever the librarian who looked out for me, Mrs. Fry, brought me from her home kitchen. Which wasn’t diverse at all. Lots of broiled fish since her husband had been a fisherman. I didn’t tell Finn about Mrs. Fry. I wouldn’t dare. But I had told him I’d never tried a lot of different things.

  Like tacos.

  Today Finn brought me tacos to try.

  “I can’t believe you’ve never had a taco. Never in your life?”

  “Never. I don’t think.”

  He hadn’t popped the screen back on. He was right there. Inches away. I could see the bottom of his face, the stubble across his jaw, the curve of his lips. They were the lushest lips. Soft. Full. Dreamy. Begging to be kissed. He had tattoos up his neck, meeting his jawline. I swallowed hard, struggling to just look at him. In his own way—he was terribly handsome. “How is that possible?” he wanted to know.

  I opened the plastic container and grabbed a taco from inside. Without much hesitation, I took a giant bite. “I just never have,” I said through a mouthful, savoring the bite. “God, this is amazing. You want the other one?”

  “No, you have it. I already ate.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “You know, Lou, I’ve been showing up here every day. Eating lunch with you every day—”

  “Oh, if you want me to pay you back for the food, I can.” One of my books had been doing surprisingly well. I’d make good royalties this month. I was even beginning to think, if the momentum on my book kept up, that I could start paying Nick rent.

  “No. No, that’s not it. Lunch is on me. I just really want to talk today about more than food. About more than Patrick. About more than Amanda or Nick. About more than Kill Devil Ink.”

  I set my taco back in its box, feeling my face tingle.

  “Like, where are you from? Maine? I want to know you, Lou. Let me know something more than surface stuff.”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what I felt safe telling him.

  “Sorry.” He breathed out when I didn’t answer him. “Sorry for asking.”

  He reached down to grab the screen, ready to snap it back into place.

  “You can leave the screen off,” I muttered. With it back on, I wouldn’t be able to see the bottom half of his handsome face. And right now, it was all I wanted to see.

  “I’ve lived in Maine since I was eight. Then before that, California.” That was all I wanted to tell him. And I panicked even as I said that much. “But location is irrelevant. It’s extraneous, and I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe never. I like talking about you. Your friends. Your workplace. Your life. All of those are safe things to talk about. I… I don’t think I need to—”

  He reached his arm through the window, and he grabbed my hand off the back of the couch. I froze like solid ice. “You’re right. We don’t need to talk about those things. Our conversations don’t have to be about the past. We can talk about whatever you’re comfortable talking about.”

  I stared down at his tattooed hand gripping my ink-free fingers. “Yeah,” I managed. I ran my fingers over his knuckles. F-R-E-E they read. There was a serpent’s head on the back of his hand, and I could see its body curling around his forearm, merging into his other designs. Wow, in all my life, I don’t think I’d ever looked at someone’s forearm and found it to be half as beautiful as his. I sat still, tracing the winding body of the serpent.

  He let me. He was silent as my fingers explored.

  I’d never touched anyone like this before. I didn’t know if I loved it, but I certainly didn’t hate it. And I certainly kept craving more of it. “Why do your fingers say free?”

  He pulled back his arm. Instead of responding, he gave me his other hand. His fingers on his other hand read, L-I-V-E.

  “Live free. I like it.”

  His other hand was a canvas for roses and thorns. I studied it as well, eventually lacing my fingers with his. Usually when Finn came to have lunch with me, he’d gossip about the people who worked in his shop. I loved hearing the shop gossip. They all had such fascinating lives. But today, as we touched, he was very silent. Very still. Maybe I’d said too much moments ago, revealed too much of my craziness, maybe that was why he was silent now.

  Then I did the craziest thing of all. I dared to press my lips to his painted flesh. I couldn’t seem to help myself. I carefully moved my lips over his roses. I noticed goosebumps erupt under the blacks and reds and greens on Finn’s arm. Had I done that?

  “Ah-um,” he cleared his throat, pulling his hand and arm back through the windowsill. “I need to get back to work.”

  “Right,” I whispered. “Sorry.” My cheeks burned hot.

  “Stop apologizing. I want to come over again this evening.”

  He wanted to see me twice in one day? “What about Nick?”

  “I don’t give a fuck about Nick.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Nick already knew I was weird. If he saw me talking to a guy through a window, I doubt he’d judge it. It might surprise him, but he wouldn’t judge. “Can I make you dinner tonight?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Through the window?”

  “Yes.”

  “Almost like a date.”

  “One hundred percent a date. I’ll be back around eight. I have a client this afternoon that could run late. I’ll text you if the time changes.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “Same. Bye, Lou.”

  He had more than just my face tingling. “Bye, Finn.”

  ~ CHAPTER 14 ~

  FINN

  Breathe, Finn, breathe. I had to remind myself to suck air into my lungs as I started my car and left Lou’s house in my rearview mirror. I still felt shivers all over my body from the way she’d been touching my hand. My hand! Not a kiss, not a blowjob, not a quick fuck in the backseat of my car, but a handhold.

  And I wanted more of it.

  Rather than heading straight back to work, I had to stop at my house. I had to take a detour for a cold shower. I had to calm down. I had to breathe. I had to wash the remnants of Lou’s touch off my skin.

  I couldn’t describe what I was feeling.

  But whatever it was, it screamed under my skin.

  I managed to make it through the day. I tattooed a few people, joked around with Patrick and Amanda who were in today, and then finally left work. I headed back toward Lou’s place.

  My head screeched as I drove. I really never worried about hurting the girls I dated. Most weren’t the type to get attached back, so it never mattered much. But I worried about hurting Lou. No secret, I had some legit feelings starting to form for the girl. But when would they fade? When would I get bored? Because they would. I always felt everything and then nothing just as fast.

  But none of that slowed me or stopped me. I parked in front of her house. Then I headed up the deck stairs that led to the main level and her front door. Only—

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  It sounded like a smoke alarm was going off inside Nick’s house.

  “Lou!” I shouted.

  No answer.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  “Lou!”

  I noticed the window we’d talked through earlier was opened. Was that smoke coming through? Fuck. I tried the handle. It wasn’t hot, and luckily, it wasn’t locked.

  I flung open the door.

  On the other side, I hurried toward the kitchen. It was smokey, but I saw no sign of fire. I saw no sign of Lou, either. “Lou!” I tried one more time. Still, no answer.

  In the kitchen, I found the oven billowing smoke. It seemed like whatever was on fire was contained inside. A quick glance around the room, and I found a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall beside the cabinets. I grabbed it, opened the oven, and extinguished whatever was burning inside.

  It went out immediately.

  I let out a breath and coughed into the remaining smoke.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  I set down the extinguisher. Taking a dishtowel from beside the sink, I started fanning the room. “Lou?” I called out. “Lou, where are you?”

  I heard a small noise, so I set down the towel. The noise had come from the living room. “Here,” she called.

  “Lou?”

  “I’m in here.”

  I dared to walk back down the hall. But when my eyes glanced over the living room, I didn’t see her.

  “I’m here.” Her sound came from behind the couch.

  “What happened?” I said to the couch.

  “I can’t cook. I’ve never cooked anything in my life!”

  “Then why were you cooking?”

  “For you! I didn’t think it would be that hard. I have the internet.”

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  “Jesus.” The smoke alarm was loud as hell. “I appreciate your effort. But really, I don’t give a fuck if a woman can cook or not.” When I dated women, eating meals wasn’t usually at the top of my mind. Other activities took precedence. Then something more important than my sex life occurred to me. I was inside the house. I was inside her space. Holy crap.

  “I was dealing with it! Then…” At that moment, the beeping of the fire alarm stopped, turning the house eerily quiet. “I was dealing it,” she repeated in a whisper.

  “Not a big deal,” I said. I rubbed my hands together, rocking on my feet. I was literally talking to an empty couch. I imagined her curled up behind it. “Would you like to come out now?” I dared to ask. “I mean, I’m already inside the house. We’re already halfway there, right?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Shit. Okay.”

  Was this how our entire two weeks would be? Communicating only through a window or a door or a piece of furniture? Speaking of two weeks, were Lou and I still on track for only two weeks? I wondered where she stood with that. We were getting dangerously close to already passing the one-week mark. We’d barely made any progress. Was I helping her in any sort of capacity? Was she even enjoying my company? Or was this only making her more uncomfortable?

  “Should I go outside?” I offered.

  “No, but can you close your eyes? Stay but keep your eyes closed the entire time you stay?”

  If that was what she needed. “Yes.” I pinched my eyes shut. “Done. They’re closed. I’ll keep them closed.”

  “No peaking?”

  “I won’t,” I promised.

  I heard nothing for a moment.

  “Still closed,” I announced. “Should I sit? What do you want me to—”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt Lou grab my fingers. Suddenly, she was right there next to me. “I have an idea,” her small voice muttered close to my chest. Electric shivers ran through my body. “Can you bend down lower so I can reach you?” her sweet voice asked. “I’ll be right back.”

  Yeah, nobody had to tell me twice. I did exactly what she asked. I moved down to my knees. I heard her feet move away from me and then a moment later I heard her return. I stayed still wondering what the hell she might be doing. I soon found that she had a piece of material of sorts, something soft, maybe a scarf. I kept my eyes closed as she moved it over my face and then tied it at the back of my head.

  Did she just fucking blindfold me?

  “There. That’s better. Now you can be in the house with me. I think I’m comfortable with this.”

  I swallowed hard. “Would you be more comfortable if you tied my hands too?”

  I meant those words as a joke. But Lou responded with a quick, “Yes! Good idea.”

  Then, no lie, she went and got another piece of material. I guessed it was a shoelace or string this time. And then the girl… fucking tied my hands! I couldn’t believe this was happening. “Perfect,” I muttered.

  She had me on my knees, literally, blindfolded, hands restrained. Every ounce of me was now fighting to keep my cock soft. She was so innocent that I couldn’t tell if she knew how sexual this was, and I didn’t want her seeing me grow hard over these small touches. At least, not when I couldn’t see her in return to judge her reaction.

  She touched my hand. “Thanks for saving me, Finn.”

  Fuck, there went my control.

  My voice was as rough as sandpaper as I answered, “Sure.”

  “Finn,” she whispered. Her face was somewhere close to mine. “Can we practice kissing now?”

  “If you want that, honey,” I managed. “Whatever you want.”

  ~ CHAPTER 15 ~

  LOU

  “Kidding,” I said, letting out an awkward laugh. “Ha. Just kidding.”

  I slapped my hands to my face.

  “Alright,” he muttered.

  I’d blindfolded Finn’s eyes with an old scarf of mine. Then I’d tied his hands with the string from my hoodie. I couldn’t even believe he’d let me do either of those things. But he had, and I was trying to decide if this silliness made me feel safer.

  Because I didn’t feel unsafe right now.

  But I sure felt something.

  Finn was inside the house. He was a big guy—tall, muscular. He had more tattoos than anyone I’d ever seen in real life. I mean, tattooed men like him weren’t exactly walking around my library in Maine often. And even if they were, it wasn’t like I’d ever been this willingly close to someone before. But here I was—letting Finn be here.