by Nikki Castle
Copyright 2021 © Nikki Castle
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Art: Dark City Designs
Editing: NiceGirlNaughtyEdits
Created with Vellum
Contents
1. Remy
2. Remy
3. Remy
4. Remy
5. Remy
6. Tristan
7. Remy
8. Tristan
9. Remy
10. Tristan
11. Remy
12. Remy
13. Tristan
14. Remy
15. Remy
16. Tristan
17. Remy
18. Remy
19. Tristan
20. Tristan
21. Remy
22. Remy
23. Remy
24. Tristan
25. Remy
Epilogue - Remy
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To my Tristan, whose teasing makes me want to both punch and kiss you on a daily basis.
1
Remy
I'm being evicted.
I'm really being evicted. This is actually happening. How is this happening?
"I'm really sorry, Remy, I wish there was something I could do," my landlord continues on the other end of the phone. "But they're my family and I can't leave them stranded. They can't afford to go anywhere else. I promise, if I had any other choice, I wouldn't ask you to do this."
I close my eyes and rub my temple, the beginnings of a headache already forming. "I get it, Dan. I understand," I say into the phone. And I do. "I would do the same thing for my family. It sucks, but I get it. I have thirty days, right?"
"Yeah," he answers, and I can almost hear his wince. He's a good guy so it's really hard to fault him for any of this.
I pause as I picture a calendar. "So that puts me close to the end of the month, right? Is there any way you can give me an extra week so I can move out at the end of the month?"
But I know the answer before he even says it. If it were up to him, he'd give me as much time as I needed, so the fact that he said thirty days means his sister and her family absolutely need the apartment as soon as possible.
"No, I'm sorry," he sighs, confirming my thoughts. "As it is, they'll be staying with me for two weeks. They were given two weeks to evict so they basically need the apartment as soon as possible. I'm really sorry."
I exhale a heavy breath. Not only do I have to scramble for a new apartment, but getting kicked out halfway through a month means I have only three options: either I get lucky and find a place that's available immediately, or I overpay on an apartment for two weeks—which also means finding the place immediately—or I'm homeless for two weeks and wait to move until next month. None of my options are pretty.
"Okay, I'll be out in thirty days," I grumble, rubbing my eyes. "If by some miracle I can be out earlier I'll let you know."
"Thanks, Remy. And again, I am so sorry. I hate that I have to end your lease like this. You were such a great tenant. If you ever need anything, just let me know."
A sad smile stretches across my face. I know he means that. "Thanks, Dan, I appreciate that. We'll talk later."
I hang up and immediately throw myself on a barstool at my kitchen island. I groan as I drop my head onto my crossed arms.
Just then, I hear a key in the lock at my front door. The door opens and my sister walks in.
"I can't tell you how excited I am to finally try this Latin restaurant," I hear her chirp happily as she walks into the kitchen. "I heard it's amazing—whoa, what happened? What's wrong?"
I raise my head to see her frowning at me.
Hailey is four years younger and the polar opposite of me. Where I am brunette, she is blonde. Where I am fit and strong, she is model-thin. Where I am loud and headstrong, she is quiet and thoughtful. The only similarities we share are that we're both short—we’re 5’2” on a good day—and we both share our mother's good looks. Though she's considered much more beautiful since it couples with her perfectly tiny frame.
She's also my best friend in the world. We were always close growing up, and have gotten even closer since she moved to the city three years ago. I even moved her into my townhouse that I shared with college friends after she graduated high school. My friends loved her just as much as I did, despite her being several years younger than them. She was kind and funny and unproblematic, and she fit into our circle immediately. Somehow even though she was the youngest of all of us, she was the one we all went to for advice.
Which is exactly what I need right now.
"Dan just evicted me," I groan. Her eyes widen at my news. "His sister's family just got evicted from their apartment for not being able to pay rent and he has to move them into my place. I have thirty days to find a new apartment."
"Damn," Hailey mutters. I can see the wheels turning in her brain, trying to figure out how to help me. "I guess I understand, since it's family, but that still sucks. What are you going to do?"
"Find a new place, I guess." I grimace and rub my temples. "Why does this have to happen now?"
Hailey shares the same pained look on her face. "I guess it's pretty shitty timing that I moved in with Steve this year. If I was still living at my old place in Fishtown, I would’ve just let you stay with me."
"I'll figure it out," I sigh. "Maybe I'll ask Jax if I can crash with him for that week."
Hailey lets out a loud laugh. "That would also mean staying with Tristan. Are you sure that's worth it?"
"Maybe I can convince Jax to kick him out," I think out loud. "Or maybe I can just tell him to stay with whatever brainless bimbo he's currently screwing? I'm sure sex would sway him. Because there is not a chance in hell I'll be able to live with him for that long."
Hailey shakes her head, chuckling. She hands me my purse and pushes me out the door.
A few hours later I'm pounding on Jax's front door.
"Let me in, asshole, I need to pee!" I shout angrily. A young couple walking on the sidewalk shoots me an annoyed look. I stare right back. Despite this being Queen's Village in the nice, hipster part of South Philly, it’s still Philadelphia. We're expected to be loud assholes.
Just as I'm trying to decide which alley I'm going to sneak down to relieve myself, the door opens to reveal a smirking Tristan West.
I have a lot of thoughts about Tristan, but the one thing I can't deny is that he's gorgeous. He's over six feet tall and a solid 200 pounds of muscle. I know him from the MMA gym I joined because of Jax in college—and it's an understatement to say they both look the part of a fighter. Tristan is the pretty boy of the two, with just-woke-up tousled, dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes that always feel like they're staring straight into the secrets of your soul. His jawline is defined and he’s got just enough stubble on his face to give him a rugged look, but not enough that it comes off as a scruffy beard. His skin has a warm tan, most likely from all the shirtless runs he does around the city for his cardio workouts.
I also know from my time at the gym that he's completely shredded from his training. Ever
y pound of him has a purpose, his body built to be an efficient fighting machine with a low body fat percentage and muscles defined not by lifting weights, but by training with a real purpose and a fuck-ton of hard work. His dedication to the sport is unrivaled and it definitely shows in his appearance. I’ve never met a man as comfortable in his body as Tristan, and that fact coupled with the physical result of his workouts gives him an air of confidence and raw masculinity.
Basically, an effortless Adonis.
He's also a total ladies’ man and a shameless pig. Or maybe that's just to me, since I assume there’s a reason why women all fall into bed with him. Either way, he and I have been at each other's throats since the first day I stepped in the gym and he gave me directions to the ballet studio down the street.
"Of all the women I know, you're easily the least ladylike," he drawls.
I glare at him and push past, heading for the bathroom. "I guess that's really saying something, huh? God knows you've been with half the women in this city," I throw over my shoulder.
By the time I come out of the bathroom, he's sprawled on the couch and is back to watching whatever MMA fight he was analyzing before I pounded on his door.
"Where's Jax?" I ask as I plop onto the loveseat next to the TV.
"Still out at happy hour," Tristan responds without even looking at me. I notice he's watching a UFC title fight, most likely analyzing the champ's fighting style for his own arsenal of skills.
I glance at my phone. "Jesus, still? It's 9pm. How much do those corporate assholes drink?" I throw my head back with a groan.
"Look, Remy—" I immediately growl at the condescending tone, knowing I'm not going to like what's about to come out of his mouth. "I don't mind if you hang out until Jax comes back, but could you be a doll and shut the fuck up? I'm trying to work." He smiles sweetly. "Actually, I take that back, I do mind. Can you just wait for him in the kitchen like a good woman? Maybe make me dinner while you're in there."
I glare and launch a pillow directly at his head—which he deflects easily.
"I can't believe chauvinists like you still exist in this day and age. Hasn't the women's movement stomped you out yet?" Then I pause, thinking of something. "Actually, what surprises me the most is that you still find women to sleep with you. Although I doubt the women you fuck even know the definition of chauvinist, so maybe that's my answer."
He chuckles and gives me an exaggerated once-over. "Everybody knows your hatred for me is just a cover for how badly you want to be under me," he says with a smirk.
I exaggerate gagging at his words. "No thanks, I'd rather take a beating from the guy on the screen than entertain the idea of you flopping around on top of me for thirty seconds." Tristan bursts out laughing. "Actually, I'd rather take that beating than sit here with you right now. I'll just wait for Jax in his room." I stand up and head for Jax's bedroom upstairs.
I've barely reached the stairs when I hear, "Don't pull another New Year's and mistake my room for his again, or I'll assume you've decided against your women's movement and want to be under me, after all."
This time, my pillow hits him directly in the back of the head.
“That was one time!” I screech. “One time that I got drunk enough to pass out in your bed instead of his. It’s hardly proof that I’m secretly salivating over you.”
I ignore his amused chuckle as I stomp into Jax’s room.
I'm sitting on the bed scrolling through my phone when Jax finally gets home. I wince when I hear him shout Tristan's name—he’s definitely shitfaced.
Sure enough, he has a giant grin on his face when his door swings open.
"Remy baby!" he shouts gleefully. He throws his suit jacket on his desk chair and then immediately launches himself at me on the bed. I grunt at the impact.
"Get off me, you big oaf," I grumble as I try to shove him off of me.
Where Tristan is a shredded 200 pounds, Jax is a massive 230. They're both just as muscular as the other but Jax has about four inches over Tristan and loves to do strongman workouts and eat everything in sight. With his massive stature and dirty blonde hair, he practically screams Viking descent. The fact that he works in corporate America as a sales guy for a tech company has always made me laugh. Even with custom suits and perfectly gelled hair, he'll always be an overwhelming presence in any room. But with his contagious smile and affable personality, it's easy to get over the feeling of intimidation and fall in love with him.
He's also been my best friend since middle school. My parents moved us into the development where his family lived and—being the crazy tomboy that I've always been—Jax and I became fast friends. People always teased us about dating, but it only took one awkward kiss when we were seventeen to realize just how gross that idea sounded. He was my brother, my protector, my friend. We did everything together in high school, to the point that we couldn't fathom going to college in different cities. So although we attended different schools, we both moved to Philly our freshman year.
I also joined the MMA gym because of him. I was looking for a new sport after I couldn’t get rid of the Freshman 15 and by that point, he was already deep into his obsession with MMA. It was an easy choice since he and Tristan were constantly watching and talking about fights—and I’ll be honest, I was coming off of a bad breakup and really liked the idea of punching guys in the face. But it quickly became so much more than that. I learned valuable self-defense and became the healthiest that I’ve ever been. And while I never fought like the guys did, I was obsessed with taking classes and learning the techniques.
Now, three years after college, the boys are living together and working separate jobs. Both boys have gone pro, though Tristan truly lives, breathes, and sleeps MMA. Most of his income comes from private lessons and teaching classes. He’s so focused on becoming the next world champ that his entire schedule revolves solely around his training.
Jax works his 9-5 at the tech company and trains at night. Secretly I think he's nearing the end of his career after five years. He's had plenty of fights, but I don't think he loves fighting enough to make the commitment of pushing it to the next level. Plus, he's flying through the ranks at his post-college job and seems to enjoy life the most when he's not in fight camp and can take advantage of time off and life in the city—as evidenced by tonight.
"Tristan said you were mean to him," Jax teases drunkenly, weight still fully on top of me.
I give up trying to push him off and roll my eyes at his comment. "More like he was mean to me for no reason. When have I ever been the first to throw a punch?"
"Last week at the gym," he chuckles, probably remembering when I lost my temper with a drop-in fighter and popped him in the face for not listening to our coach.
I scowl and cross my arms. "That guy was an idiot! He thought he was too good for Coach's drill. And the move was to defend your partner's jab, so technically I did nothing wrong."
"You didn't have to make his nose bleed." Jax's amusement has now escalated to rumbling laughter.
"Whatever, he still deserved it," I grumble. "But I'm telling the truth about Tristan. He's an ass—he always rips into me for no reason. That's why I was waiting for you up here."
Finally, he lifts his head off my stomach and sits up. "Why are you here, anyway? Not that I don't enjoy your company when you don't need something." He grins knowingly. We've been friends for long enough that he can sense when I'm about to ask him a favor.
I fidget nervously, eyes in my lap. I've never been good at asking for help.
"I'm being evicted," I mumble quietly.
"WHAT?" Jax yelps loudly. "How the hell did that happen?!"
I sigh and recap what happened with Dan earlier today.
"I'm going to start looking for an apartment tomorrow, but I'm not sure I'll find anything available that quickly at this time of year." I look at Jax with pleading eyes. "Worst case scenario, I'm homeless for about a week next month and need someplace to crash. I just need to know if I can c
onsider your couch my Plan C."
Jax frowns when he seems to think of something. He grabs his phone and scrolls through it before looking up with a big smile.
"This actually works out perfectly," he says excitedly. "I have to be in San Francisco for work that week and I was going to go early and stay late so I can hang out with Jordan and the guys at the gym out there. So, you can even take my room." He grins, proud of himself. "See? Problem solved. You're welcome."
I let out a relieved breath and give him a small smile. "That's such a huge weight off my shoulders, you don't even know. Thank you. I'm still going to see if I can find an apartment next week but if I can't then I'll let you know, and we'll bank on me staying here." I pause—and cringe when I realize the worst part of this plan. "Fuck, that means I'd be living with Tristan.” I turn toward Jax with a sweet smile. “Any way we could kick him out by then?"
He laughs and pulls me up off the bed. "Not a chance, sweetheart. But you can break the news to him by ordering us dinner tonight and then maybe he won't hate us as much." He pulls me toward the stairs and shouts, "Hey, Tristan! Guess who's coming to live with you?"
"She's WHAT?" I hear Tristan yelp from downstairs.
I wince as I follow behind Jax. This is going to be a long few weeks.
After ten minutes of walking, I finally reach my car. I get in the driver's seat and slam the door behind me. I sit quietly for a moment.
And then I scream—for a solid three seconds.
