Overexposed: The Complete Boxset: A Virgin Meets a Bad Boy Romance by Rae Lynn Blaise Page A

a healthy sip of my drink.
    “I’m serious. There is an amazing little gem of a grocery store down the block, right next to a Walgreens.”
    My eyes widen. “You go to the grocery store? Yourself?”
    Charlene’s head tips back as she laughs. “I do, and I actually enjoy it. Besides, you forget that I didn’t always have a housekeeper to do all the heavy lifting for me.”
    “How the times have changed.”
    “Yes, they have.”
    In the momentary silence, I glance around the apartment. While I wasn’t expecting opulent decor, Charlene did a great job of making the house feel cozy and welcoming. Across the room are two black leather wing chairs, which I’m sure she kept from Dad’s office, and a entertainment center with a modest-sized flat screen TV. A few of her and Dad’s favorite art pieces grace the walls—well the ones that were worth the least, considering they’d needed to sell the rest—and a large ornate mirror hangs above my head. The light gray rug, cable-knitted throws, and plush throw pillows pull the room together. “You’ve done a great job with the apartment,” I say, a little in awe but genuinely relieved at how homey it feels.
    A genuine smile lights up her face. “Thank you. I’ve tried my best. I kept a few things from the old house, and I’ve discovered IKEA.”
    Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I do love IKEA.”
    Charlene stands, “Let me give you a quick tour.”
    “I’d like that,” I answer as I stand and follow her through the pocket doors she slides open.
    We enter a tiny room with a small loveseat against the far wall and a quaint desk against the opposite wall nestled between built-in cupboards. “I know I told you this was a one bedroom, but I thought this might work as a pseudo private bedroom for you. The loveseat converts into a full bed.”
    This is definitely an improvement over the prospect of camping out in the living room. “It’s perfect.”
    “I’m glad.” She pushes open another set of pocket doors, and we’re standing in her bedroom. And hung above the bed is a Picasso. When she notices that I’ve noticed, her face flushes red. “You’re Dad refused to let me sell this one.”
    “I don’t blame him, it’s the one he bought you as a wedding gift.” And I genuinely mean my words. I wouldn’t have been able to ask her to give it up either.
    “Sentimental old fool,” Charlene says in response, but her voice is low and husky, filled with undeniable love. She clears her throat and takes another sip. “Enough of that, now here’s where it gets tricky.”
    I raise my eyebrows, but follow her through another doorway. We enter the postage stamp-sized kitchen, which consists of a built-in cabinet for dishes and groceries, a stove, an impossibly tiny sink, and barely any counter space. Charlene has a slim, butcher block-topped island on wheels pushed against the wall. “There isn’t a refrigerator?”
    “It’s out here,” Charlene says as she leads me down the narrow hall. She points to the door to our immediate left. “Bathroom.” A few steps more and she now motions to a small alcove where the fridge is nestled. “And here we have it.”
    “Well, that’s useful.”
    Charlene laughs again. “I have two more surprises.” She glances down the hall. “Never mind, make that three.”
    She leads us down the hallway a few more steps and opens the built-in cabinet. Light pours from the ceiling, and there is a wrought iron ladder leading up to the domed window behind the cleaning supplies. “Access to the roof.”
    I clap my hands at this little slice of unexpected bliss. “That’s amazing.”
    “I’ve nicknamed it Santorini, after our vacation to Greece. It was definitely one of the selling points to this apartment.”
    “I can see why.”
    Charlene closes the cabinet and I mourn for the little slice of beauty already. She opens another cabinet, which actually turns out to be a closet with a stacked washer dryer combo. “Selling point