by Noelle Adams
“Um…excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she snapped. “What’s the matter, did you forget your key? Or did that pretty girl throw you out?”
“Um…I…I was just…”
“Of course, in my day, we didn’t throw handsome men out of the house.”
Oh my God…was she flirting with him?
“It’s a good thing you shaved. Show her you’re sorry and that you’re making an attempt to look nice for her.”
“Who exactly are we talking about?” Chris took a couple of steps toward her. “And I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced…I’m Chris. Chris Dole.”
“Christopher is a nice strong name,” she gushed, and for a minute, he swore she was blushing. “And I’m Estelle. It’s lovely to meet you.” She held her hand out for him to…kiss.
Fabulous.
So he did, and then had to admit he kind of liked the small giggle she let out before taking her hand back. “So…Estelle. Who am I trying to look nice for?”
“Heather,” she replied firmly. “Although, now that you’re all cleaned up, maybe I’ll have to talk to her again about your modern arrangement.”
He had no idea what she was talking about and was starting to get a headache. “Modern…”
“Heather said there was no hanky-panky going on between the two of you, no sexual relations, you understand. But you sure did clean up nicely.”
Now he was blushing!
“You should go,” Estelle said. “Wheel of Fortune’s about to start, and I don’t want to miss it.” Her door slammed shut, and Chris could only stand in stunned silence for a minute as he tried to comprehend what had just happened.
Shaking his head, he walked to his door, let himself in and, just as he’d suspected, the place was completely decorated. There were throw pillows on the sofa and pictures hung on the wall. But luckily, Flo was exactly where he’d left her.
He shut the door and was about to call out to Heather, but she walked into the room and came to a halt at the sight of him. No doubt she was noticing that there was a whole lot less hair on his head and face. He braced himself for the mountain man comment.
“Good. I’m glad you’re back. I’ve written up some ground rules for us to go over,” she said as she went to sit down at the kitchen table.
Rules? No comment about his hair?
Rather than argue, he went and sat down beside her and chuckled when she slid a sheet of paper in his direction. “You printed out the rules for us to live by?” he asked incredulously.
“It seemed the most efficient thing to do. I just drafted up some to begin with, and we can discuss them.”
He rolled his eyes and then settled in to scan the page. But he was completely aware of Heather sitting there watching him—as if waiting for him to find fault with something.
And he did.
“I’m not agreeing to number three.”
She instantly picked up her copy and scanned it. “And why not?”
“Because I enjoy watching TV late at night. I’m not going to let you give me a curfew. That’s crazy!”
“It’s not a curfew. But I like to go to sleep at a reasonable hour. You can’t tell me that you have to have the television on full-blast late at night.”
“Ah, but it doesn’t say that here, does it? All it says is no TV after eleven. What am I, ten years old? We’re roommates, Heather. You’re not my mom.”
She sighed loudly and crossed it off the list, and he went back to reading. “And number seven is stupid.”
“Why?” she asked, clearly irritated.
“I’m not splitting the refrigerator in half. Believe me, I’ll know what food is yours and what’s mine. I don’t think we’re going to have that problem. And if by some chance I eat some of your peanut butter, I’ll go out and get you more.”
Chris read the rest of the list, and then stood up and grabbed both copies and crumpled them up.
“Hey!” Heather objected, coming to her feet. “What in the world? We’re never going to be able to work this crazy situation out if we don’t have a few ground rules.”
He spun around and stood facing her. “Here’s the deal—we both live here, and neither one of us should be dictating how the other lives. You want rules, here they are. You buy your own food, I’ll buy mine. You cook for yourself, and I’ll cook for me. Neither of us should be expected to wait on the other one. You with me so far?”
She nodded, although her eyes were narrowed as if she weren’t thinking happy thoughts about him.
“Good. You clean up after yourself, and I’ll clean up after me. Okay?”
She nodded again.
“We’re both going to pay equal parts on the utilities—fifty-fifty. I take quick showers, and I put my dishes in the dishwasher, and I turn out lights when I leave the room. If you insist on taking hour-long showers and washing every piece of silverware by hand, I’m gonna amend that rule and ask you to pay more on the water bill.”
“Same applies,” she countered. “If you end up using more of the utilities.”
“Fine by me.” Then he paused. “We’re not joined at the hip. We may have to work together and live together, but we have separate lives. If we want to ride to work together and save on gas, great. But it’s not a requirement.”
“Agreed.”
And as much as he tried to think, they seemed to have covered all the basics. “If either of us comes up with something else, we’ll talk about it. No lists. No dictating, deal?”
“Deal.”
“Do we uh…do we need to shake on it?”
Heather seemed to consider her options and held out a hand to him. “Sure. Why not?”
Taking her hand in his, Chris immediately realized his mistake. Her hand was small and soft, and he got a little jolt of awareness at the contact. He quickly pulled his hand away and took a step back.
“So, um, it looks like you got a lot done here today. It looks good.”
She beamed at his praise. “Thanks. And you’ll notice that your chair is exactly where you left it.”
“I did and thank you.” Okay, maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad. They were capable of having decent conversations without animosity, it seemed. Maybe clearing the air was the way to go.
“It’s certainly an eclectic look—more so than I’m used to, but I think it will work. And like you said earlier, it’s only for six months.”
She smiled at him—a genuine smile—and Chris felt himself relax. There was a time when they’d been friends, and although the last time they’d been together—three years ago—they’d been screaming at one another, this was the girl he remembered.
Only…prettier.
Softer.
With great legs.
Down boy. He needed to get comfortable in the friend-zone here. They had six months of living and working in close proximity to one another, and he could not afford to let himself think about her as anything but a business partner and roommate. This was too important. He refused to let Tom down.
Again.
Clearing his throat, he walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. “I only grabbed a few things from the grocery store yesterday, so I think I’m going to order a pizza for dinner. I was driving around today and saw that Tony’s was still there.”
She nodded. “Still the best pizza in town too. Maybe we could split a pizza?”
Her voice and her expression were hopeful, and Chris readily agreed. “Pepperoni?”
“Like there’s anything else,” she said with a laugh, and Chris definitely felt more relaxed. He called in the order and made arrangements for it to be delivered. “How long?” she asked.
“Thirty minutes. I think I’m just gonna go and…” A small jingling sound had him stopping in his tracks and looking around.
“Is something wrong?” Heather asked, and he noted a small smirk on her face.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
Waiting, he held up a hand when
the jingling sound happened again. “That! I heard a jingling sound. What do you think it was? It’s not a sound you’d hear from the plumbing, and these walls are fairly thick and well-insulated so we shouldn’t be hearing anything from the neighbors.”
The jingling got louder, and when he saw exactly where it was coming from, he was mildly horrified. “What…what the…Where the hell did that come from?”
Heather’s smile grew as she bent down and scooped the tiny…well, it looked like a dog, but it could have been some sort of rodent too. She walked over with…it…in her arms. “This is Little Miss Lucy,” she cooed.
“Uh, what?”
She rolled her eyes and snuggled the thing closer. “Little Miss Lucy. She’s my dog.”
“Are you sure she’s a dog, because she looks like a rat.”
“No, she doesn’t! And that’s just mean.” She stroked the dog’s back and kissed her on the head. “Don’t pay any attention to him, my little miss.”
He studied the dog and had to fight the urge to cringe. It was tiny—maybe five pounds—and it had pink bows in its hair and some sort of sparkly collar on. It looked completely ridiculous. “So…Lucy,” he said.
Heather met his gaze. “Little Miss Lucy.”
“Yeah, I’m not calling her that.”
“But it’s her name.”
He raked a hand through his hair as he sighed with frustration. “I might call her Lucy but honestly, I’ll probably just call her dog.”
The look of horror on her face told him that it was the wrong thing to say.
“Look,” he quickly added. “I’m not a dog person, and I’m really not a tiny dog person. Can’t she just stay in your room?”
And then that look of horror turned to a look that was maybe just a little bit evil. Heather stepped in closer as that evil smile grew. “Oh no,” she began. “She can’t stay in my bedroom. She likes having room to roam around, and besides, I like to cuddle with her while I sit and watch TV.”
Then she put the dog down. “I’ll just go and grab some cash for my share of the pizza.”
And in that moment, he knew the battle lines had officially been drawn.
Three
The next day, Heather came home after work feeling encouraged. Almost optimistic. Maybe this ridiculous arrangement wouldn’t be as bad as she’d feared.
Today had gone better than yesterday. Other than looking at each other over coffee mugs in the morning, she’d barely seen Chris all day. He was annoying—no doubt about that. And way too smug. And he didn’t even seem to be sorry for the way he’d treated her father three years ago. But he appeared to agree with her that they should mostly just keep to themselves. If they were able to continue doing that, then they’d make it through these six months without too much trouble.
Hopefully.
As she was leaving the office this morning, her father had mentioned that Chris was supervising the crew at a job they were running behind on, so they’d be working until at least seven this evening. That gave her two hours in the apartment alone.
Another reason to be in a good mood.
Deciding to take advantage of the privacy, she dropped her purse on the floor in the entry hall, crouched down to greet an ecstatic Lucy, and then walked into the bathroom, turning on the water in the tub.
She’d been looking forward to making use of the soaker tub. Now was the perfect time.
While the tub filled, she took Lucy outside and made a quick batch of cookies. She’d made a batch yesterday and given them to Estelle Berry, and today she wanted to make a batch for old Mr. Johnson downstairs.
She’d learned when she was a girl that making cookies was such a simple thing to do, but it made people so happy, made them feel appreciated. She’d been giving friends and neighbors cookies for most of her life.
It just took a few minutes to mix up the dough, and while they were in the oven, she poured herself a glass of Merlot, turned on some music, and lit a few candles in the bathroom. After she’d taken the cookies out of the oven to cool, she pulled off her clothes and got in to soak, leaving the door partly cracked so Lucy could come in and out as she liked.
Otherwise, the dog would scratch at the door insistently. It was just barely five-thirty. Chris wouldn’t be home for an hour and a half.
The tub was amazing—long enough to fit her body and deep enough for a very enjoyable soak. She relaxed, letting her mind drift and occasionally chatting to Lucy when the dog wandered in to investigate the situation.
After about twenty minutes, Heather opened her eyes when she heard the sound of a door close.
It was probably just Mrs. Berry or another one of the neighbors. The walls were thicker than a lot of newer builds, but one could still hear a lot of noises from the hallway. She leaned back against the tub and closed her eyes again, wondering what had Lucy all excited.
Her little claws on the hardwood floor were tapping like crazy.
“Heather?” The male voice was familiar, but it was also shocking, since it was coming from the doorway to the bathroom.
The doorway to the bathroom!
Her eyes shot open, and she squealed when she saw Chris looking in, Lucy dancing ecstatically at his feet.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, trying to hide under the water until she realized that there were no bubbles to hide beneath. She’d only put in some lavender and honey scented bath salts. “What are you doing here?”
Chris blinked, his gaze focused decidedly lower than it should be. “I live here.”
“But you’re not supposed to be here until after seven!” Her mind shifting quickly into crisis mode, she grabbed her towel, which she’d fortunately placed within arm’s reach, and lifted it to cover herself as she stood up.
“Was that a rule I missed?” His voice was dry and gruff, as usual, but he was decidedly distracted, his eyes raking over her bare dripping legs and the damp towel.
She scowled at him and gestured to her face. “Eyes up here.”
He managed to raise his eyes to meet hers. “You’re the one taking a bath with the door open.”
“That was for Lucy!” She was flustered and embarrassed and also just a little bit excited, although that last reaction was probably just a fluke.
“She likes to leer at you while you’re naked?”
“No! She likes to come in and out. You weren’t supposed to be home until after seven.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” He seemed amused now, although his eyes did occasionally drift back down to her body. “I didn’t realize you’d given me a schedule.”
“Dad said that you were working at the Harmon job until after seven.” She managed to say this more lucidly, since she realized squealing wasn’t the best way to express her quite reasonable assumption.
“The crew is working. But there was no reason for me to stay there the whole time.”
Typical of him to slack off before the job was done. He was always walking away when things got hard. She decided not to say so, though, since she was genuinely trying to get along with the man. “I didn’t know that.”
“I can see that.” He frowned as he glanced around at the flickering candles. “Why do you have all these candles lit and the music on? I thought you might have someone here with you.”
Naturally, his mind would go immediately to her getting it on with some guy in their apartment. She gave him a prim little frown. “There’s no one here with me. I thought, since you weren’t here, I’d have a little private time.”
“Oh.” Something changed on his face. “Oh.” The second time, he drawled out the word, stretching it out far longer than it should have been.
It took her a moment to realize what he was implying. When she did, she gasped and hugged the towel to her more closely. “Not like that!”
Did he actually think she was in here with the candles and music, having a little fun with herself?
“Ah. Too bad. That would have been something to walk in on.”
He
was teasing her, she realized. Making fun of her responses. With effort, she reined in her indignation. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to put some clothes on.”
“No problem.” He started to leave but glanced at her over his shoulder, his dark eyes deliciously warm. “Next time you want a little private time, maybe hang a sock on the door.”
She almost—almost—laughed.
Then he added, “Who are those cookies for?”
“They’re for Mr. Johnson. Don’t eat any!”
“Not even one?”
“I didn’t make them for you!”
She normally wouldn’t have been stingy with cookies, but she was too rattled now to be generous. And mostly she wanted him out of the bathroom.
He was grumbling as he closed the door.
He really was much too good-looking, now that he’d gotten rid of all that extraneous hair. He looked more like he used to look, when she’d considered him part of her family, when she’d thought he was the best guy in the world.
She sighed as she pulled on her robe and blew out the candles.
He wasn’t that guy anymore.
***
Heather spent most of the evening in her room, since it was the only place that really felt like hers. She actually ended up falling asleep early, and she woke up at eleven at night, realizing that Lucy would need to go out once more before bed.
She was wearing a tank top and a pair of pink cotton pajama pants, and she decided she was dressed more than adequately to be seen by Chris. After all, if they were roommates, she could hardly be worrying about covering every inch of skin any time she left her bedroom.
When she stepped out of her room, the first thing she noticed was her traitorous little dog, curled up right in Chris’s lap.
The second thing she noticed was there were two men in the living room, when she’d expected to only see one.
She jerked to a stop, staring at the second man, who was sitting on her pretty red chair. He was cute in an absent-minded way, with thick, rumpled hair and a half-turned-up collar.
“You remember Jace Foster?” Chris asked. “He was in my class at school. I just discovered he lives downstairs.”
