by Sienna Ciles
My father had impressed studying, socializing to make the right connections, and attending the best society functions throughout my life. Television, art, and just about everything else I secretly enjoyed appalled him. After twenty-five years of being the good, dutiful golden girl in the family, I was ready to spread my wings and try new things on my own terms. Not that it meant I needed to do all of that on my own yet, without help on at least a financial level.
I am smart enough to understand that I was not meant to live as a struggling college student while finishing my MBA. My father had long ago pinned his hopes on me following in his footsteps and becoming a doctor, joining his practice, and finding another similarly gifted professional to wed me off to before the two children arrived. After a college experience that had been lacking the grades to make medical school, my father had pulled a few strings to have me admitted to an MBA program at the prestigious Ivy League school the city boasted. I could almost recite by heart the list of well-to-do accountants, business people, and other notable alumni, due to the amount of name-dropping my father had done to explain his decision on my schooling. My opinion had not been appreciated or heard during this gap period in education. Telling him I would rather paint and explore the creative arts would probably cause him to have a heart attack, and he’d possibly lock me up in that big ivory tower he had constructed in his mind for his princess.
A deep voice sounded from behind me. “Mr. and Mrs. Wellington.”
Turning, I recognized the man my father had been talking with in passing that morning when he had gathered the keys to my apartment. I bet my first full year’s salary that my father had also been drafting the man into spy service so he would keep my parents apprised of my comings and goings.
As I took in the dark features, fit frame, and baby blue eyes, I found my heart doing a tiny flip-flop. The man was more than passably attractive, but his working man hands, worn jeans, and white t-shirt would never fly in any of the restaurants I was known to frequent. He would prefer football to art I bet, and he’d likely never seen the inside of a college.
While my mind continued to add to the list of reasons he would never be date material, my heart and libido were doing a happy dance that this hunk of man lived nearby.
“Isn’t that right?” My father said as my mother raised a questioning eyebrow at me in silent rebuke.
“Absolutely,” I automatically replied, hoping that was the correct answer to the question I had completely missed.
“So how are my parents doing these days?” The man asked, suddenly drawing my complete attention.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” I said without thinking about how offensive or snobbish the statement sounded.
“Dalton Jones the Third,” he replied and extended his hand with a slight twist of his lips that told me good manners were winning over his desire to throttle me.
“Jones? Like August and Mariah Jones?” I asked. The shock I felt was not easily filtered, and for the second time in less than a minute, Mother shot me a warning look.
“Yes, that would be dear old Mom and Dad,” Dalton said with an incomprehensible look on his face. “I’m sure they haven’t mentioned me. I’m sort of the black sheep of the family,” he whispered conspiratorially to Mother.
“That is the understatement,” my father groused out loud. “I do know your father said you had turned a corner and were doing a great job managing this building for him in recent years, however.”
“I do what I can,” Dalton said brightly as if the strange tension encasing them was not worrisome to him in the least.
I worried about how people perceived me every second of every day, and kept the peace with my father at all costs. Until I was able to pay all my own bills to keep myself in a lifestyle I enjoyed, it was how things had to be. Dalton on the other hand, did not appear to live by anyone’s expectations but his own, and he just shrugged off my father’s obvious disapproval. I hated to admit it, but his nonchalance and uncaring attitude about the approval others was a bonus in my mind.
“I just wanted to introduce myself to your wife and my new tenant, of course. Anything you require of me, please don’t hesitate to ask,” Dalton finished with a small nod to my mother and a glance my direction. Without a heartbeat of hesitation, he bounded up the stairs to the building again and was inside the doors before I could say it was nice meeting him also.
“Brittany, you stay clear of that man,” my father authoritatively said without any compunction or understanding that I was a grown woman and didn’t have to heed his advice.
No need stirring that pot, I decided. “Yes. I shall wait for you to find me a prince charming and force him to sweep me off my feet,” I said with a cheeky grin.
“Brittany, dear,” Mother reprimanded softly. “Your father only wants what is best for you.”
“I know, Mother,” I said, almost wishing my mother was the type to accept affection. I could really use a hug as I started on this new path.
It was big moments like these I missed my sister. Talia would be bouncing off walls and excitedly hugging me, I could just imagine it now. I sighed. Talia was never coming back, and my mother was never going to be warm and gooey. These were facts that no amount of wishful thinking was going to influence.
“I will see you next Sunday for dinner,” My father said with a slight nod before turning away from me and crooking his arm for my mother to take.
“Please be careful,” Mother added before placing her hand through her husband’s arm and walking back to their car with the driver standing upright waiting to take them home.
I waved lightly and turned toward the big building, a huge grin splitting my face. I could do this. I would find a way to follow my own path, and decide what I wanted to do with my life. Finishing the MBA was a dictate of my lease continuing to be paid by my father, so that would remain a necessity for now. Finding something to finally light my soul and bring some passion into this staid existence, was my life’s mission.
Climbing the three steps to the front of the building, I opened the ornate glass doors. Dalton stood just inside, replacing a light fixture that appeared to be freshly broken.
“Be careful,” he called out to me, causing me to freeze in place. “Glass on the floor.” He pointed to a spot mere inches from where my feet were planted.
“Shoes,” I responded with a little wiggle of my feet, and continued around the pile on to the apartment.
“Hey Princess, if you require me to come turn down your bedding tonight, put a mint on the pillow or anything else to make your stay better. Just let me know,” Dalton said with a sarcastic twinge to his voice.
I whirled around on my heels. “I’m pretty certain I will never be offering you an invitation into my apartment. For any reason,” I stated, trying to stave off the blush I felt climbing my cheeks.
He just looked at me with a pucker on his lips. “Want to bet?” he drawled in what I knew was a fake accent. “Unless you chase away critters, unclog your own drains and toilets, or are willing to break a nail checking fire alarms, I’ll be getting that invitation.”
“Ugh,” I retorted, half grimace and half sigh. “You are insufferable.”
“Hello pot, kettle here,” he replied.
“I’m not insufferable.”
“Just entitled. Thus, the princess moniker,” he volunteered in a cheery voice that was grating at my nerves.
“Did I do something to make you mad?”
“Nope, I just don’t necessarily enjoy those that live off Daddy’s money and can still look down their nose at those doing an honest day’s work for honest pay,” he snapped. He moved to within a foot of me, getting into my personal space.
His proximity and obvious passion for the subject at hand captured my attention, as I swallowed a nervous lump. I liked this mental jousting match and when I would have normally simply turned and vacated the hallway, I found myself continuing to bait him.
“Daddy got you your job and pays your bills, or d
id you forget that?” I replied sweetly, as I refused to let him know the impact he had on me.
“Trust me, my daddy pays me because I’m cheap labor he knows needs this shot at a second chance,” Dalton replied under his breath.
I stopped the verbal barbs, and cocked my head. It was impossible to figure him out. He obviously had revealed more than he had wished.
I watched him as he turned, grabbed a broom, and proceeded to sweep the glass on the floor into a dustpan. As I watched his retreating backside I found my libido whispering again about all the nice attributes I continued to catalog about him, and that view was definitely making the list. Dalton appeared to be a mystery with several layers. Obviously, he had been raised in money even older than mine and with family connections that would have allowed him any advantages he sought. His look, though, was street wise, and his job involved menial labor which didn’t compute with his background. Although the location was upscale enough in many regards, Dalton was just the help.
I always thought that my own tragic story was sad, but glancing back at Dalton as I headed to my apartment, my mind had to concede I had it better than he did. My father was harsh, judgmental, and overly involved in every decision I made. On the other hand, he took care of me, provided the best education, schools, and housing. In the world today, that amounted to a gold mine when so many others had it much worse.
Turning the key in the lock of my new apartment, I took one longer glance down the hallway. Dalton was dumping the dustpan. He looked up, directly into my eyes. The physical connection crackled across the distance between us. Startled, I flung myself into the apartment, and shut the door a bit more forcefully than was necessary.
Chapter 3
Dalton
I made my way to the apartment after a longer than normal workout the next morning. Brittany had played havoc on my sleep last night, and I was determined to work off the stress seizing my shoulders this morning. After a grueling hour and thirty minutes, I headed to my apartment, noticing that the sun was only now starting to peek over the horizon.
The moment I turned in the hallway last night had capped a verbal exchange that I had been unable to stop. Once the gauntlet had been thrown down with her first statement, I had picked up the challenge and kept the duel going.
It was obvious that she was rich, entitled, and everything one of the city’s leading debutants was wont to be, given her education and status. After a briefing by her father yesterday, I knew she was an MBA student, which meant brains along with her hot looks. Her father had also let it slip that this was her first time living away from the parents, and had asked me to keep an eye on her, even offering compensation. I had turned him down flat. Spying on my neighbors was not my bag. Besides, it seemed a bit creepy to be providing that type of information to a friend of my father. What would the old man think of me if I’d agreed? Would he be proud I was doing his old friend a solid? I couldn’t be bothered to find out by carrying through with the request.
“Eeek!” someone shouted in the shadowy hallway.
I followed the noise to Brittany’s apartment door. A moment before I could raise my hand and knock, she flung the door open and ran head long into me, shaking and screaming.
Bracing her with both hands on either of her arms, I came to the full realization a brief second later that she was naked save a towel around her body. Her hair was twisted up on top of her head, and soaking wet. She had obviously been taking a shower when a crisis erupted worthy of her choosing to run naked through the building.
Biting down on my lip, I tried not to smile at her disheveled state, as I took advantage of the momentary lapse in her judgement to check out her barely covered assets. The woman had curves in all the right places, creamy skin, and a chest that could make a blind man sit up and take notice. As my little head took an interest in her body, my mind tried to register what the issue was that had gotten her so riled up.
“Can I help you?” I asked, unsuccessfully trying to keep the smile from my face.
“There is a bird,” she huffed, pointing at the apartment, “in my shower.”
“A bird?” I questioned incredulously. That was a first in my time as the apartment manager.
“Yes, I left the window ajar to get some air in there. The little side one next to the vanity. And I’m in – you know, taking a shower,” she said, and trailed off. A light pink blush came over her body, revealing how uncomfortable she truly was in this moment.
“Yeah, it’s the city,” I said brusquely. “Windows aren’t really meant to be opened.” I pointed to her open door. “May I?”
“Of course. What am I going to do to get a bird under control?” she asked snidely, tightening the towel around her body as that chilly façade of hers slipped into place.
“So, does this mean”—I stepped inside and starting trying to locate the errant bird in question—“that you in fact invited me into your apartment?”
She huffed behind me in answer.
With a genuine smile, I headed toward the bathroom scene of the crime. The smell permeating the air was heavenly. I had forgotten how good women smelled when taking a shower.
Lavender. Brittany favored the light, fragrant scent of lavender. As I slowly opened the door so as not to startle the critter trapped within, the bird in question escaped over my head to the living area. As much as I had been prepared for the winged creature’s attack, I still found myself ducking and shielding my head.
She giggled. “Oh, did the poor little bird scare the big bad handyman?”
I bit back a curse. “Seriously, do you want my help or not?”
She looked at me with crazy eyes. “Of course, it’s loose in my home. What if it has rabies? Or bites me? Or worse?”
I stopped and laughed out loud. “What could be worse? Oh, and FYI birds don’t have teeth, so it could only peck you to death.”
“Whatever. Just catch it,” she said raising her arms toward the ceiling where the tiny creature had sought safety from the crazy humans hunting him.
“How do you expect me to get him up on the vaulted ceiling fan?” I asked, hands on my hip, as I considered all the options silently.
“You can’t leave him there.” She turned horrified eyes my direction, as if I had just asked for her firstborn.
“I might have an idea, but first you need to put on some clothes,” I said, nodding at the towel.
She glanced down as if she had completely forgotten her undressed state, and scuttled off to the bedroom. I waited for her to return, taking the lapse to gaze around the apartment. She had moved in less than forty-eight hours ago and the place was already set up with big luxurious sofa, matching loveseat, gorgeous wood accent tables, and an ornate television stand. Boxes lay around, waiting to be unpacked, covering the glass contemporary table in the dining area and much of the open floor space. The woman had great taste, and her apartment looked more like a home than mine did, and I’d been living in mine for several years.
A movement to the right drew my attention. Brittany re-entered the room wearing a pretty pink top and perfectly respectable khaki shorts. I found himself wanting to demand she return to the room and come back in the towel, but her worried gaze already moved skyward to the bird. Her apprehension stopped the teasing before it came from my lips.
“Okay, I’m going to open this window,” I said, leaning over to release the living room window. “Do you have a broom?”
“Sure,” she said moving over to the pantry area and coming back with a broom still in the packaging.
Removing the cellophane, I moved to the middle of the room.
“We are going to have to work in unison,” I said moving toward the light switch on the far wall. “I will turn the fan on very low, and you stand by the window and as soon as the bird flies out, slam it down.”
“You aren’t going to hurt the defenseless little thing, are you?” she questioned.
“Seriously, do you want a bird-free shower?”
She nibbled on he
r bottom lip. “I’ll push the window down,” she finally conceded.
I nodded to her, and flipped the switch. The rattle of wings was followed by some loud grunts and me running around the room, broom overhead like a crazy fool. Brittany at one point full-on laughed so hard she had to clutch her abdomen. Finally, a few minutes later I had the critter firmly on a path out the window. As soon as it flew outside, she closed the window, turned around, and hugged me tight.
I stood with my arms out, absorbing the shock of the unexpected affection. I could not recall the last time someone had hugged me, and all I wanted to do was wrap my limbs around her and inhale her lavender scent. Instead, I remained stock still and allowed her to back up on her own time as I cleared my throat nervously. We stood close, staring at each other, as my heart thudded a painful beat in my chest. Brittany was finally the one that lowered her gaze, and she nervously backed away from me.
“Anything else I can do for you this fine morning?” I asked, masking nervousness with light humor.
“I think that covers it,” she said, moving toward the door as if trying to get me out of her apartment without another thought.
My mind was on fire and I wanted to turn to her and make some excuse to stay longer. But when I swiveled to bid her good-bye, her stoic, haughty mask was firmly back in place.
“Let me know if you need anything else as you finish the move-in checklist,” I said lightly and then entered the hall.
Without another word from her, the door was closed behind me, and I heard the deadbolt slide into place. Any of the tension I had thought was present a minute ago slid off me with the cold reality of just how different our lives were. She might have the same pedigree I had started life with, but mine had taken a sharp detour somewhere along the way. I would always live on the fringes of polite society now, and she would eventually marry even further into the upper echelon. Shaking my head, I allowed the thoughts to fade, as I headed once again toward my apartment.
