The Visitor: Alien Hunger Special Edition by Kaitlyn O'Connor Page B

the basket
with hers, reflecting that it wasn’t going to take any longer to do
his than it would to do her own when she had to go to the
laundry-mat anyway.
    She was thoroughly confused about the
entire situation, though. Every time she left the house and came
back, it seemed, she found a new item he’d left at her apartment.
Was he just so busy rushing around he had no idea where he left
things? Or was it his idea of moving in by stealth?
    And, if he was moving in
with her inch by inch, how did she feel about having Garryk as a
roommate? It didn’t take long to figure that out—unhappy if it
didn’t include benefits— very unhappy if it meant he might be bringing dates
home!
    She was just going to have
to get up on her hind legs and tell him that was completely
unacceptable! She didn’t mind helping him out if he needed it, but
he was not going
to install a revolving door on her damned apartment!

Chapter Seven
    Chelsey didn’t even try to wait up for
Garryk that night. It was Saturday and she was sure he would be
performing at the club until all hours. And didn’t it just figure
that the moment she gave up, he decided to come early?
    She’d barely settled in the bed when
she heard him at the front door. Sitting up, she listened intently
for a moment until she heard the door open and then lay back down,
debating whether to pretend she was asleep or not. She never
actually decided. He made so much noise coming in she began to
wonder if it was deliberate. Surely, even if she had gotten in the
habit of tuning out loud noises to sleep, nobody could sleep
through that?
    He practically slammed the front door
and she could distinctly hear the locks as he set them. Then he
strode directly to the bedroom and dropped the heavy duffle bag he
was carrying just inside the door.
    He flicked a look at her. “Did I wake
you?”
    She stared back at him a moment,
trying to decide if he seemed angry and that explained his entrance
and finally shook her head.
    His gaze moved over her face as if he
was trying to decide the same thing—if she was angry. “I need a
shower. I’ve still got oil all over me,” he said. He didn’t make
any move to head that way, though.
    “ I got you some body-wash
and shampoo while I was at the store this morning,” Chelsey
volunteered finally.
    He seemed to relax fractionally. He
even smiled faintly. “Thanks! The guys have been looking at me
funny for the last couple of days and I keep forgetting to go by my
place to pick mine up. I’ll give you the money.”
    Chelsey shook her head, but he’d
already turned and headed into the bathroom. She lay staring into
the darkness, listening to the shower and trying to decide what to
make of what he’d said and the way he’d been acting. She really
didn’t think he was in the habit of making quite that much noise,
but he hadn’t seemed angry—maybe tense? Maybe he hadn’t been
certain the little note he’d left was enough to smooth things over
and had expected a confrontation?
    So, either he knew her
better than she thought he did or she was more typical of women in
general than she’d thought she was—because she had been working herself up to a
confrontation, she realized. The only reason she’d decided to go to
bed instead of waiting up was because she’d been working just as
hard to talk herself out of making waves.
    She was disappointed. She was also
confused and uncertain about the situation, wondering just where
she fit in to his life, but she didn’t want to do or say anything
she might regret—especially when he had a perfectly legitimate
reason for ‘ignoring’ her. He was working some outrageously long
hours, though, and as much as she wanted to believe anything he
told her, was that completely within the realms of possibility? Or
probability? She didn’t know a thing about entertaining. She
supposed he must have to work out to keep up that build, and maybe
he had to rehearse, and she knew they went out into the