The Six Month Lease (Southern Hearts Club Book 2)

by Melanie Munton

  She sat there sipping her martini, staring at the TV while she fought to block the mysterious stranger out of her mind and concentrate on what she had to do over the next few days.

  Tomorrow, she was moving into her new house in a new town.

  Tomorrow afternoon, she was going to meet with her contractor.

  Actually, she was going to go cuss out the jerk of a contractor who had just quit on her.

  The guy hadn’t even started the renovations at her swim shop yet, and he’d sent her an email—earlier that morning—explaining that he couldn’t do the job due to time constraints. He’d offered his apologies and recommended a few other companies in the area. But his half-ass apology did nothing to assuage her irritation. She didn’t have the time or money to waste on finding someone else and going through the entire process again.

  She was going to track down the d-bag and—if she could keep her temper in check—somehow convince him to change his mind. She was done getting walked all over by people who thought they could control her life. Done with people who didn’t give a damn about how much their selfish actions hurt her. Done with getting her heart broken by people who cared more about money and prestige than simple human feelings.

  Done. Done. Done.

  But for now, she was going to let all that fuel her pissy, the-world-is-ending attitude, because it was therapeutic.

  After she handled the issue of that jerkface, reneging contractor, well, then she was going to make some new friends.

  Okay. That was a good start.

  See? All she needed was a few minutes to gather herself and she would be fine—

  The bartender placed another martini down in front of her. She looked at him in confusion, then down at her empty glass. Huh. When had that happened?

  Her fingers reached for the stem as she mumbled, “Thanks.”

  He tipped his head toward the Hulk. “From the gentleman.”

  What?

  Cautiously, she turned in the man’s direction and watched as he slowly raised his head and locked eyes with her. Her heart pounded as they gazed at each other, neither smiling nor moving an inch. She experienced tunnel vision as she got lost in his dark eyes. There could have been a Chinese New Year parade traipsing through that bar and she wouldn’t have noticed.

  Play it cool, girl.

  It took more effort to smile than it should have. But she pulled it off, raising her new glass to him in thanks. He returned the smile, tipping his beer bottle at her in salute. As he took a drink from it, his eyes never once strayed from her. She was mesmerized by the way his throat muscles bobbed when he swallowed. And when his hand rose to rub across his chin and move over his jawline, she about drooled dry martini all over herself.

  Holy hell.

  How could one small movement—and not even a provocative one—be so damn sexy? The next thing she knew, he was pushing up off his stool, grabbing his bottle, and slowly making his way over to her.

  Oh my God. He’s coming over.

  Okay, no big deal.

  She could talk to an intimidatingly gorgeous man like him. No problem.

  Just don’t do that weird giggle thing you do when you’re nervous—

  “Hi,” he said in a low, smooth tone.

  She swallowed thickly, clearing her throat. “Hi.”

  “Mind if I sit here?” He pointed to the stool next to her.

  Mind?

  He could have shown her the toenails he’d removed from all thirty of his murder victims and she wouldn’t have minded.

  “No, go ahead,” she replied, waving at the stool. She tracked his movements as he sat down, bringing his body closer to hers. Maybe too close. Not close enough. “Thanks for the drink, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome.” His expression held amusement. “Looked like you needed it.”

  She cringed. Great. Did she look like a lush, or something?

  “Is it that obvious?”

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the bar. “That you seem to be having a rough day? A little bit.”

  She sighed, wondering why he’d even bothered coming over at all, if she looked like a hot mess. Because, apparently, she did. “I was afraid of that.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry. You didn’t have Resting Bitch Face or anything like that.”

  Her gaze snapped up to see his mouth spreading into a wide grin. Okay, he was teasing her. To most women, that would have been obvious. But Jade had enough experience with assholes to know that a lot of people who said things like that meant them in the most insulting ways.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” she said, taking a long sip of her drink. “Because if I did, I’d have to really question your motives for coming over here.”

  He released a full-bodied laugh. She couldn’t help but appreciate the way it made the lines of his face relax.

  “Oh, I’ve become very adept at spotting that look and, trust me, I would have steered clear,” he said, his hand once again scratching his stubbled chin. “You just looked like you needed to unwind a little.”

  She lifted an eyebrow as she shifted her stool to the side, facing more of her body in his direction. “Very astute.”

  “That’s what they all say.” He winked and she had to smile. “I have a sister. So, recognizing those types of looks from an early age became a means of survival for me.”

  She laughed. “Are you saying that a big guy like you is afraid of his sister?”

  The look he sent her was full of mock horror. “You would be, too, if you knew her. I barely escaped my childhood home with my life.”

  She laughed harder, shaking her head. Maybe this was what she needed to really take her mind off everything. A nice conversation with a funny, charming stranger.

  Admittedly, she hadn’t had one of those in a long time.

  “So, what brings you to this particular bar this evening?” he asked.

  She was about to respond with the truth, but paused. He could actually have a toenail collection in his pocket. Weren’t a lot of serial killers normal-looking, unassuming people? Best not to risk being ax-murdered, and just stick to vague facts.

  “Just passing through,” she responded. “You?”

  He narrowed his eyes, and she knew he could sense she wasn’t going to reveal much. Wisely, he followed her lead.

  “The same, I guess.” He took a drink, studying her over the bottle. “So, does that also mean I don’t get to learn your name?”

  She touched the tip of her nose with her finger. “Like I said, you’re very astute.”

  He nodded, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Okay. What is it you do for a living, Red?” His gaze traveled over her mane of bright red hair, looking pleased with himself.

  “Original,” she muttered.

  He sent her another wink. “I’m a simple man, what can I say.”

  She thought about how to answer his question without being too specific, and went with, “I’m an entrepreneur. I own my own business.”

  His eyes turned thoughtful, though he didn’t press. “I have a feeling that’s all I’m going to get about that, so we’ll move on. And since I know you’re going to ask, I’m in construction.”

  Sounded about right. His body sure as hell showed the fruits of his manual labor.

  “You like your job, Bob?” she asked.

  He choked on his beer. “Bob?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. You know, like Bob the Builder?” She flicked her wrist in an absent wave, feeling the effects of the alcohol. “Plus, it rhymed with job.”

  His expression turned wary. “I’m not sure what it says about me that I remind you of a children’s toy.”

  She giggled—not the giggle, Jade!—and abruptly stopped. She let her gaze briefly roam down his body before coming back to rest on his face.

  Where she saw the biggest shit-eating grin.

  Yep. He’d definitely seen that.

  She shrugged as if to say Can you blame me? His grin got bigger. But she wouldn
’t let herself be embarrassed just because she’d checked him out. She’d felt him checking her out earlier, after all, so she was simply returning the favor.

  “I don’t think anything about you could ever be described as childlike,” she said, hearing the involuntary drop in her voice.

  Bob’s eyes darkened, noticeably heating. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  She nodded, returning her attention to her drink. “You should.”

  “I feel a little better, then. Bob, it is.”

  The air between them sparked with tiny jolts of electricity. She could practically see the way the mood had shifted, ever so slightly, in a different direction. A sexier, more naked one. Damn martinis, putting thoughts of sex into her head. She was not having sex with this guy. She didn’t do one-night stands. Never had a single one before in her life. Sex with someone she hardly knew made her nervous—it just wasn’t her thing.

  She maintained her fascination with the two olives submerged in her drink. “You never answered my question. Do you like your job?”

  He hesitated for a second before he responded. “Most days. There are highs and lows just like any other job, but overall I enjoy the work. Do you like owning your own business?”

  What a loaded question. And one she couldn’t really answer. “We’ll see.”

  His brow furrowed in question, but the bartender approached them before he could speak again. “Another round?”

  They both looked at their empty drinks, and Bob raised an eyebrow to her. “What do you think? Can I buy you one more?”

  What the hell.

  She’d never see this guy again, and she was enjoying the conversation. What could one more hurt?

  “Sure.”

  Half an hour later, she almost had vodka coming out of her nose.

  They were telling each other stories from their jobs, resulting in fits of hysterical laughter.

  “I kid you not,” she said, struggling to catch her breath. “The mother actually wanted the cake to say ‘Congratulations on Getting In, Dick.’ Her son’s name was Richard, went by Dick, and he had just gotten into law school. I tried to talk her into something else, but to her, it made complete sense.”

  Bob was clutching his stomach as he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes.

  “And when the sister came to pick it up,” Jade added, “she just looked down at it with a sigh, shook her head, and said ‘Not again, Mom.’”

  They burst into another round of guffaws.

  Jade had mentioned that her last job had been as a baker, so she was pretty sure he now assumed the business she owned was a bakery. She wasn’t about to correct him.

  “Okay, okay, I got one,” he said after he collected himself. “When I was in high school, a buddy of mine asked me to help him with a job of putting polyurethane on the floors of a house. So we start rolling it on—mind you, neither one of us had ever worked with the stuff before—and after a while, we realize that we’re both feeling weird. Lightheaded, a little dizzy, and really spacey. We stop for a minute to go outside and get some fresh air, when it hits us.”

  “What?” she asked, riveted. “You got sick?”

  Bob shook his head, stifling a smile. “We were both high as fucking kites. We should have been wearing masks the whole time around that stuff, but we didn’t think about it. The rest of the day, we were stumbling around everywhere, our eyes glazed over. Hell, I was afraid to go home because I didn’t want my parents thinking I was on drugs or something.”

  “Nope,” she mused. “Just huffing chemicals.”

  “Then I got all paranoid that I was going to get drug tested and not be able to play football. Of course that was ridiculous, because it’s not like they test you for polyurethane exposure.” His eyes crinkled with restrained laughter when he looked at her. “I still pissed like a pregnant woman, though, thinking I needed to get it all out of my system. I was a complete dumbass.”

  She about fell off her stool from laughing so hard, knowing full well she looked like the dumbass. At some point between her hunching over to catch her breath and trying to keep from spitting her drink all over the man, her hand had drifted down to his thigh.

  Which did not go unnoticed by him.

  He stared at her hand with a clenched jaw, his nostrils flaring. She knew she should remove it, but the alcohol was slowing down her reaction time. Majorly. She could tell herself she had grabbed him for balance, needing purchase to keep from face-planting on the floor. It was probably half true.

  But somewhere in her subconscious, as she’d been delighting in his stories and reveling in his humor, she decided she wanted to touch him. Really, really wanted to touch him.

  If she had been schooled in the ways of seduction, she could have transformed herself into a confident sex kitten, turning him on by purring sweet nothings into his ear.

  Instead, she felt like a frazzled alley cat, aimlessly wandering around, waiting for someone to show her the way home.

  Real sexy.

  As he slowly lifted his head, his gaze trailed up the length of her body, scanning over every inch of skin as if searing it to his memory. She let out a heavy breath when their eyes finally connected.

  Lust.

  That was all she saw on his face.

  All she felt in her body.

  “You have a room, Red?” he said on a rasp.

  She nodded. Yes, she did.

  “You want to take me there?”

  She nodded again. Yes, she did.

  He gave her a curt nod. “Let’s go.”

  He paid their tabs and practically shoved her toward the door.

  The whole elevator ride up to her floor was fraught with tension. The good kind. The kind where two people knew they were about to get naked with each other, and they couldn’t decide where they wanted their mouths to go first.

  They stood close, arms rubbing against each other as they faced forward. For her, being that close and maintaining her self-control until they reached the privacy of her room intensified the moment.

  She tried really hard not to be nervous, but hell, she had never done this before. Rather, she had never done this before. Sex, yes. Sex with a complete stranger? No.

  People do it all the time, she told herself.

  She could be one of those people tonight. Because if she didn’t do it, she would have to go back and drink a lot more alcohol until she eventually passed out. Otherwise, her overactive mind would keep her up the entire night.

  So, there you have it. One-night stands had many practical purposes and could be easily justified. This way, instead of contemplating her future, she could contemplate the number of orgasms she was going to have.

  Plural?

  Could she have more than one? Was that possible?

  Focus, girl.

  When they entered her room and she shut the door behind them, it felt as though they had fallen into a black hole. Like nothing else existed in the world outside that little room. The only sounds filling the silence were their labored breaths. The only light in the room was coming from the bathroom, casting a small beam across the floor through the crack in the door. The rest of the room was bathed in darkness.

  There was enough light to see his face, though.

  And his body.

  The way his broad chest rose and fell as he slowly turned to face her. The way his head was slightly lowered and his eyes undressed her from head to toe. The way his hands were forming fists at his sides. And damn, the way he licked his lips when he focused on the sliver of skin exposed by her crop top.

  “Christ Almighty, you’re stunning.”

  She wasn’t sure why the compliment jarred her, but it did. He was just so…sincere about it. Maybe it was the Southern accent. It made him sound so harmless, as if he would never have the power to break a woman’s heart.

  Oh, but she knew better.

  This guy had heartbreaker written all over him.

  Not that it mattered. He wasn’t getting near her hea
rt. Because no man ever would. That was a promise she had made to herself long ago.

  One she planned on keeping.

  He took a step toward her, eyes intent, but stopped before he reached her. His forehead creased, head tilting to the side as he assessed her expression. “You sure about this?”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes, I’m sure. Why do you ask?”

  “You’re biting your lip.”

  Her teeth released her lip. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it.

  “We don’t have to do this,” he said. “I can leave.”

  Panic shot through her. Oh, hell no. She needed him, in more ways than one. “No, stay. Really. I want this.”

  He looked skeptical, but slowly nodded. “Okay. You don’t have to worry, you know. We can go as slow as you want. I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

  She believed him, but she also didn’t want to take it slow. Truthfully, it had been too long since she’d slept with anyone. And she had a lot of sexual frustration built up that she needed to purge.

  She threw her purse to the floor. “How about we stop talking now?”

  His eyes darkened, hearing the permission in her voice. He stalked toward her and brought their bodies closer together. He framed her face in his hands, touching her with reverence, as if afraid she would crumble under his touch.

  “I’ve wanted this from the second you strutted that hot little body up to the bar,” he said in a low voice. “But only if you do, Red.”

  She went up on her tip toes and mirrored him, grasping both his cheeks. “Well, I’ve wanted to get that shirt off of you ever since I saw how big your arms are. So, that should give you some insight into what I want, Bob.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut as though in pain. “Do me a favor and don’t scream out that name while I’m fucking you.”

  Her insides caught fire at his confident tone. “Who says I’m going to be screaming?”