My heavy footsteps slap the hardwood floorboards as I hurry down the hallway in the direction of the distress call. “You okay in there?” I bang a balled up fist against the door.
No answer.
Is she dead? I really hope she’s not dead.
Panic increasing, I bang again. “Hello. What’s going on in there?”
Her irritated voice is muffled on the other side of the door. “Hold on, hold on,” she grumbles impatiently.
My annoyance level arrows skyward. The nerve of this person to come into my place of refuge, barricade herself in my bathroom and then get pissy when I try to find out what she’s doing. I’m trying to keep a low profile in this town. The last thing I want is to unwittingly become entangled in some strange poop fetish scandal. Or worse.
"Look sweetie—you seem like a real darling girl but I don't know you from a lamppost on the street so I'm going to have to ask you to swagger on out here so you and me can have a little chat, yeah?" I take a step back from the door and fold my arms across my chest.
There's hesitation on her part. Some more bumbling. But eventually, the door does swing open. And out comes a plume of steam that quickly evaporates to reveal the girl. Her curvy, little body is wrapped up in the bath towel I used earlier today. Her skin is moist and dewy. In all honesty, the red, blotchy pockmarks on her legs don’t take very much away from the overall package.
I’m a sick man…
I bring my attention up to her face. Now that she isn’t wearing that shower cap or that weird, white, creamy stuff on her skin, I can get a good look at her features. Her cheeks are flushed a pretty shade of pink and she has a pert, little button for a nose. Her hair looks like it was washed in grape juice, though. It’s damp, hanging limp and tangled all around her head...And she's cupping one hand over her eye.
All the alarm bells in my mind ring out. Uh-oh. This is no good. "What happened to you?" I ask, taking a cautious step forward, pointing my chin in the direction of her face.
Her posture goes defensive. "Nothing." She presses her hand tighter to her eye.
My gaze moves past her shoulder to where the shower curtain is flickering in the warm breeze. The bathroom window is now wedged open. It was closed before she got here. What the hell?
I tilt my head and observe this weird lady incredulously. "Did you try sneaking out the window?"
For a fraction of a second, she looks like she might just shrivel up from embarrassment. But then, she gives me a stony expression and makes the deliberate decision to lift her chin up and straighten her shoulders defiantly instead. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" I cock a brow at her and she gives me an apathetic shrug. This is kind of insane. I should be backing away from this woman but I find myself stepping closer. Locking my fingers around her wrist, I lift her hand from her face. "And you hurt your eye in the process?" I observe the nasty swelling that's already beginning to form on the delicate flesh.
"Maybe," she says again and wiggles her arm out of my hold.
I stride past her, into the bathroom and throw a glimpse out the window. I cringe. "Jesus! What was the plan, darling? You jump out the window and then what? Pray for a soft landing on the chicken bones and takeaway boxes in the restaurant dumpster below?" This hen is crazy.
She tries to keep her hard expression but it falters as the ridiculousness of the situation settles in. "What can I say? I was exploring my options…” Her pretty caramel eyes twinkle with restrained amusement. “Faking my own death also seemed like a viable option…Frankly, it's an option that's still on the table." Now, her lips are pursed together and her nostrils are twitching with laughter.
One corner of my mouth curls up, too. Who doesn’t like a girl with a little sense of humor?
When she brushes the pads of her fingers along the swollen flesh beneath her eye and she hisses through her teeth, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. Only a monster wouldn’t take pity on a wounded bird. The strange little creature definitely has me curious.
"Hold on,” I say, my voice going soft as my shoulders heave with resignation. "Let me go check for ice in the freezer." I don’t wait for her answer before turning down the hallway.
I chide myself internally as I hurry toward the kitchen. I should send her on her way, let her fend for herself. She’s not my responsibility and she’s already overstayed her welcome. So why am I trying to help her?
Peace and quiet peace and quiet peace and quiet. The nagging reminder rises from my subconscious.
Damn this girl for showing up out of nowhere and upheaving my carefully laid plans.
Rummaging around in the freezer, I come up with a half-pack of frozen peas. I feel a strange mix of trepidation and excitement as I head back down the hallway. It’s almost as if I can’t wait to lay my eyes on her again but I’m dreading it at the same time.
I’m still trying to make sense of the feeling as I stroll back down the corridor and find her with the bathroom door open. She’s standing on her tiptoes to lean closer to the mirror over the sink. The bath towel has ridden up in the back, exposing those sickly-looking splotches on her skin. It’s a network of red, blotchy patches. Sort of like a heat map. But those legs—wow! Just wow! A stake of lust strikes through the hollow of my chest.
And I’m giving my twitchy cock some serious side-eye right now. Won’t he just behave?
She's lamenting to herself as she studies her reflection, grape-juice colored water dripping from the ends of her hair onto the white floor mat. "What the fuck?! I’m a brunette now? How the fuck am I a brunette?” Her shoulders heave on a sigh. “Great…Just great…”
Not wanting to intrude on her private moment, I clear my throat to announce my presence. She glances up and shuffles away from the mirror.
Without a word, I step closer and delicately press the peas to the black and blue crescent under her eye. My fingers brush her skin and she shivers. Maybe from the cold peas or from the light pressure I’m applying to the sensitive flesh. I shiver, too. Because I feel a little zap of electricity at the slight contact.
She looks up at me from under her lashes. “Thank you.” For a fraction of a second, her brassy exterior slips and I see a flicker of vulnerability. I like it very much.
My eyes move down her face again, confirming my previous evaluation. She’s pretty. No, not pretty. Beautiful. Lusciously full lips. Cheeks that swell gorgeously with her half-smile. Big, warm doe eyes. And that look she’s giving me…Soft but piercing, reaching into my chest and squeezing hard on my lungs.
Man—I’m really getting into this.
But without a lick of warning, she snaps out of the moment. She snatches the frozen peas from my hand. “Who the hell are you, anyway?” Turning her attention to the mirror, she presses the compress to her eye. “And where’s Ethel? I need to have a little chit-chat with my lovely landlady.”
Her tough girl shield is back up. It’s cute.
The corner of my mouth curves up again. "Ethel is...on an extended vacation."
Her expression darkens with caution as she uses her free hand to wrap the towel tighter around her body. "An extended vacation?" Voice brimming with conspiracy and accusation, she pastes her entire body to the opposite side of the doorframe and nimbly slithers by me.
It’s only then I realize how ominous my statement must have sounded. “Oh, no, no, no! Not that kind of extended vacation. Jeez, lady!” I chuckle deep in my chest. “Ethel is at my palace. In Ridgeland.”
She’s not buying it. She obviously thinks I’m bullshitting her. Her eyes stay on me as she continues to back herself down the darkened hallway. "Your palac—? Ridge—? What? Are you speaking in code or something?" Then a thought dawns in her mind and she freezes. Her glare narrows and she lowers her voice. "Where did you hide the body?" In a snap, her hand shoots up like a stop sign. "Y'know what? Don't answer that. Please."
Huffing through my nose, I throw up my arms in frustration. "Oh, come on! Do I look like a serial killer to you?"
Her eyes
scan the length of me from my dishevelled bedhead to my bare toes. The perusal is slow and deliberate and I've got to say I'm a wee bit in love with the way her pretty eyes feel on me.
Her face twists into a challenging smirk. "Well, I don't know you from a lamppost on the street, so you tell me.”
“Ha! Good one!” On top of being gorgeous, she's sharp. I'll give her that much.
And now I’m backpedaling in my mind, trying to remember how I went from being annoyed by her unwelcome intrusion to being bloody well entertained by her audacity. This was not part of the plan, I remind myself. Not part of the plan at all.
"Don’t worry about Ethel," I say brusquely, "All you need to know is that I'll be managing the building while she’s gone. Okay?"
"So you are my new landlord?" That brow of hers hitches up to her hairline. Her expression is an unabashed vote of no-confidence as she appraises me again in light of this new information.
"Your interim landlord. You can call me Xavier.” Eyeing her tattooed knuckles, I stretch out my hand for a shake. “My arrangement with Ethel lasts for ninety days."
She fists her hips sassily instead of accepting my hand. "I have to deal with you for three months?” Her eyes twinkle again. Half serious, half teasing.
I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I’m afraid so.”
Maybe I should be offended by her lack of faith in me but I actually find it kind of amusing. I mean, how hard can the gig be? All I have to do is collect the rent on the first of the month.
Well, it seems she has other ideas. “In that case...” There’s a delighted glint in her brown irises as they dart around the apartment and land on a small desk in the corner by the door. She saunters over there, drops the melting peas onto the rich wooden table and grabs a notepad.
She begins scribbling furiously. “I’m Sadie from apartment 2C,” she tells me without lifting her eyes from the paper.
I stride toward her with reluctant movements. “Uh, nice to meet you?” It comes out as a question because I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like whatever it is she’s jotting down on that notepad.
“Firstly, I have no water in my apartment and it nearly cost me my life tonight,” she says earnestly, “so you’ll need to get to work on that a.s.a.p. Also, something’s wrong with my air conditioner. It’s making this really loud buzzing sound and blowing hot air all around my apartment. Then, there’s the latch on the backdoor that needs to be fixed and the…”
I blank out on what she’s saying for a minute and perch on the edge of the desk. While Sadie is bent over the table and rambling, I take the opportunity to let my gaze roam all over her towel-clad frame again.
Top-grade, that arse.
I discreetly adjust my erection and thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice because she’s so damn busy preparing her list of demands. She’s being ridiculous, going way overboard with her requests. I vaguely register her mentioning something about installing a jacuzzi and I have no choice but to interrupt her.
“Darling, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” Her head snaps up and our eyes catch. “I don’t do repairs.”
A wicked smile blinks across her full lips. “Darling—you’re the landlord, I think you do. I can go grab you my lease if you’d like to take a look.” The smug expression on her face would be cute if it weren’t so irritating. I feel the beginnings of trepidation taking root in my veins. Uh-oh…
When I accepted Ethel’s offer, I didn’t realize I’d be exchanging my crown for a blue collar. The old woman told me this would be an easy gig. That I'd only have to worry about swinging by the tenants' apartments to pick up the rent. But I've been here less than twenty-four hours and I’m already expected to deal with faulty plumbing valves and broken air conditioners and a crazy tenant who's whacking a sledgehammer against my resolve without even realizing it.
I scrub the palm of my hand across the creases on my forehead in frustration.
What have I gotten myself into?
And Sadie isn’t even done laying down her demands. “The most urgent thing on the list is the water, though. You can come down to my apartment and fix it now.” She makes a come on gesture with her hand, causing the scrap of paper to flutter between her fingers. With a purposeful stride, she pivots to the front door like I’m supposed to follow her.
I jab a thumb into my chest and snort nervously. “Me?” I’ve never opened a toolbox in my life. I’m a prince, not some contestant on a home renovation TV competition. Gimme a gemstone-encrusted sceptre and I’ll wield that thing like a pro. But what the hell am I supposed to do with a hammer?
She stops and glances over her shoulder. Her whole expression sags when she realizes I haven’t budged an inch. “Yes, you,” she volleys back with no mirth at all in her voice.
Hell to the no! “I don’t think so, love.”
The little spitfire faces me. Her brow lifts in challenge. “What? You’re not man enough to roll up your sleeves and use your hammer?” The half-smile on her face tells me she smells my fear.
Bloody hell…It might be time to up the ante.
“I’m man enough for just about anything,” I tell her, deliberately letting my gaze drag suggestively down the length of her spectacular body just to make a point.
But apparently, two can play that game.
“Oooh, secure in your masculinity, huh?” she teases, letting her eyes trawl down my body just the same. I fight the urge to squirm when her eyes linger on the bulge at the crotch of my jeans.
“Very secure in my masculinity.” I ease off of the edge of the table and take a step closer.
She has to tip her head back to meet my eyes. Something about that is fantastically hot. And I’m very much enjoying the fluttering pulse at the base of her slender throat as I steal yet another inch closer.
I’m close enough that my breath brushes the shell of her ear when I speak. “I'll send a plumber over first thing in the morning,” I say. My voice goes low and gritty. “But for future reference, questioning my manliness is never the right strategy if want to see my hammer in action. There are much nicer—more satisfying—ways to ask…”
My mouth waters. I have to deliberately restrain myself from licking her neck.
But she’s not affected. She can definitely hold her own. She puts a hand on her hip and finally takes a step back. She’s all business now, signs of playfulness completely gone from her demeanour. "I work in the morning,” she informs me. “How am I supposed to get ready if I have no water?"
"What time?"
"Four a.m."
"Jesus, woman. What do you do? Are you a newspaper boy or something?"
She rolls her eyes and glares. "I work at the Broken Cupcake bakery. I’m the interim general manager.” A glint of pride strikes deep in her pretty irises. “When there are problems, I take care of them. Immediately. Because nothing's worse for business than unhappy customers."
Her mean-mug would intimidate a lesser man but I happen to be royalty. I can handle it. "Good thing you're not a customer, then."
She stomps a foot, causing more purple water to drip from her hair. "I'm a tenant. I have rights."
Scratching the back of my head, I search for a solution because it's obvious this girl isn't going anywhere until she's good and satisfied. And this back and forth bickering was sort of fun about a minute ago but it’s already starting to wear me down. "How about a compromise? Hang on..." I stalk off into the kitchen and return a few seconds later with my key ring. I pull a key off the bunch and stretch it to her. "I can't fix your water problem tonight but you're welcome to come in here in the morning and get ready for work."
She gives me a wary expression. Not scared. Just cautious. "I don't know you."
A frustrated exhale breezes past my lips as I pick up the discarded pea packet and brush the water droplets from the expensive wood. "Look—I'm not a serial killer."
“I don’t know that.”
"Yes, you do. You've been standing here in nothing but a bath to
wel, giving me shit for the past ten minutes. If you've seen any horror movie ever made, you'll know that things never end well for the girl in the bath towel. If I were a serial killer, you’d know it by now."
I give her an exaggerated look of unadulterated innocence. She tries to hold her stone-face but eventually, one corner of her mouth goes up in an involuntary smile.
"I'll have a plumber over here first thing in the morning," I promise softly. I nod toward the key in my hand. "This is only temporary. Please..."
Please don't make me jump through hoops. Please don't make my life any more difficult than it is already. Please don't make me beg you to go easy on me. Cut me some slack.
She studies me again, eyes focused and calculating. It's almost as if she reads the desperation in my face…And she shows mercy.
Sadie grabs the key from my fingers. "Fine. Just don't walk in on me while I'm in the bathroom. Because I'll have my baseball bat. And I'll use it. Readily."
"I won't give you a reason to use it." Crossing my pointer around my middle finger, I grin. Again.
Just a few minutes with this peculiar woman and I've already surpassed my smiling quota for the week. This is kind of alarming.
Her shoulders loosen a bit and she lets out an exhale. "I should get going." She tightens the towel around her then sticks her wishlist out to me. When I refuse to take it, she wiggles it annoyingly. “Here,” she insists.
Reluctantly, I snatch the piece of paper from that adorably infuriating woman’s tattooed hand. I sneer. “Fine. I’ll take care of the repairs.”
She smiles victoriously. “Thank you, Xavier.”
I feel an odd sense of loss as she starts down the stairs, leaving a trail of purple water behind her. For some reason, I’m not quite ready for her to leave yet. I lean a shoulder on the doorframe and call out after her, a playful lilt in my voice. “Hey—that’s my towel. Come here and give it back.”
Soft, pretty laughter dances on her breath. Over her shoulder, she flips me her middle finger. And I smile as she walks away.
The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series Page 83
