“No. I must be getting desperate to even be talking about him. Do you have anybody new you can set me up with?”
“Not lately, but if someone good applies, I’ll let you know. Hey! We’re thinking of getting a dog, but we’re not sure what kind yet.”
“Are you thinking big or small? And poor Bella will be tormented by a puppy.”
“She’ll hold her own. She doesn’t take crap from anyone. That cat runs the house.”
“True.”
“I kind of like bigger dogs and he likes smaller dogs, so we’re back and forth on what kind to get.”
“Why not meet in the middle and get something medium sized like a Beagle, though they do tend to be barkers.”
“Yeah, we’re on way different ends of the spectrum. I was thinking a Rottie or a Sheppard, and he was more in camp with a Pug or a French bulldog.”
Sam laughed. “Yeah, the question is, who will cave first?”
“We already know that answer. He’ll put a cute little Pug puppy in front of me and get his way as I fall in love immediately. I don’t put it above him. He’ll play dirty and use the “aw” factor.”
“It works both ways.”
“You know it does.” Becky nodded and grinned. “Thanks for meeting me today. I need to run; we’re going out when he finishes his work.”
“Have fun.”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
The girls went their separate ways.
Pulling into her apartment complex, Sam parked her car in a shaded spot. Her grooming van was right where she left it, but there was something wedged in the wiper. Getting out of her car, she walked over and found a note complaining that her van was mussing up the look of the apartment complex. Really? It’s a stupid van. Screw them. It was probably that jerk next door. He had it out for her.
Speak of the devil...she saw him pull in and climb out of his car. Sam quickened her step. If she hurried, she could get to the elevator before him. She’d deal with the note later.
Pulling into the parking lot, Christopher saw his boisterous neighbor. Great. If he moved fast, he might get to the elevator before her. Don’t look over.
Simultaneously, both looked up at each other.
Crap. Sam slowed her step, trying to change her pace.
Damn. Christopher walked slower, trying to avoid the eventual meet-up at the elevator.
Looking over, Sam noticed Christopher slowing down too. Grrr. Fine, if it was going to be this way... She held the note out and cleared her voice. “Did you leave this for me?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
It was obvious as they entered the building that they’d be reaching the elevator at the same time. Both reached for the button.
“It’s a note about my work van.”
“Wasn’t me.”
She eyed him up, not sure she believed him.
As the elevator doors opened, the couple got on. It was torture being stuck in here with him. The air was thick between them. Sam stared straight ahead, wishing the elevator moved faster.
Christopher didn’t make a peep. He watched the numbers as the elevator climbed. Finally, he spoke. “It doesn’t surprise me...about the note. It’s kind of an eye sore.”
Sam bit her cheek. She was almost to her floor and was in no mood to battle. As the doors opened, she muttered under her breath, “Paco warned me about guys like you.”
“Paco? Paco Balli? How do you know Paco?” Christopher was surprised.
“He’s my barber, not that it’s any of your business.”
“You go to a barber?”
“Don’t judge me. It saves me a few bucks. Besides, once I started going to him, I was hooked. Why?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“He married my sister. I’m about to get on Skype with my nephew to help him with his math.”
“You tutor Paco’s kid?”
“His kid is my nephew, and yes.”
“Small world. Either way, he warned me about guys like you.”
“Guys like me?”
“You’re just...prickly. You’re not very nice.”
“I’m prickly? At least I’m not loud and obnoxious, with an opinion on every flipping thing under the moon.”
“Wait, you don’t even know me.” She was annoyed and flustered.
“The walls aren’t very thick. So I’m the one that has to listen to all your nonsense.”
“You’re listening in on me?” Now she was angry, and ready to pick a fight after all.
“How can I not? Your voice carries – and maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t give it up so easy.”
“Did you just call me a slut?”
“Oh, Marco! Oh, Brady!” He shot her a look.
“At least I’m getting some. I never hear anything from your place. Then again, I’m not eavesdropping. How rude!”
“I wouldn’t call it eavesdropping. You talk so freaking loud. I’m forced to hear your business.”
Sam muttered, “Asshole.”
“Wow, and that was ladylike.”
“Are you kidding me?” Samantha glared at her neighbor.
The couple stood in the hallway, bickering. Finally, with a grunt, Samantha turned to her door. “You are not a nice man. You’re a mean bully, and I do not appreciate you trying to slut shame me. It’s none of your business who I choose to have sex with.” Slamming the door behind her, she was livid. She was angry enough to spit nails. And so help her god, if she was going to spit nails, they’d be aimed right at her not so nice neighbor.
Dropping her purse on the table, Sam flicked off the temporary pedicure flip-flops and bent to remove the cotton between her toes. Crap. She left her other shoes in the car. Forget it. She’d get them later. She wasn’t taking a chance on bumping into her cranky neighbor again today. The nerve! And how the heck did he remember the names of the guys she was with? She barely remembered some days. Okay, that’s a lie. She knew well, but only for future reference if she needed a booty call.
Was she really that loud? Well, tough for him. She wasn’t changing who she was or how she spoke. He’d just have to deal with it. When she called her friend, Winnie, she spoke extra loud, leaning against the wall. “Yeah, my stupid neighbor listens in to my phone calls, apparently. Can you believe it?” She turned to face the wall. “I know you’re listening,” she shot out.
After consoling Sam, Winnie told her the news she knew was coming. She’d given Oscar an ultimatum, and he walked. He decided that Winnie wasn’t wife material.
“Not wife material? Can you imagine? I’d be a great wife,” she ranted into the phone. “Screw him.”
“He’s an asshole and doesn’t deserve you. You’ll find somebody better.”
“You never liked him.”
“I did not.”
“But we were perfect together.” Winnie’s voice softened.
“I don’t see it that way, but whatever. I mean, you were good together, but I think it was too one sided at times.”
“Well, I loved him.”
“I’m sorry, Winn, but there will be somebody better for you one day.” Her voice softened. “You can’t settle for somebody just because. He should love you, cherish you, and treat you like gold. Some days he treated you like a tarnished penny.”
“Yeah.” She got quiet. “What if I don’t find anyone else? I’m not exactly the “in demand” type.”
“The right man will come along. You just need to get out of your bad relationship so you can find a good one.” Sammy walked to the sofa and flopped down. “My neighbor says I’m loud.”
“You are.”
“Yeah, well, he didn’t have to point it out. He also basically said I was a slut.”
“Bastard! He did not?!?”
“He did.”
“Want me to come over and kick his ass for you? I totally would.”
“I know you would. Thanks for that, but nah, I’ll be okay.”
“What is it with men? They sleep with whoever they want
, and it’s a non-issue. But if a woman does the same thing, she’s labeled. I hate that crap.”
“It’s just not his business.” She said flatly.
“Sorry that he was a jerk.”
The girls moved on to other topics until they finally said their good-byes. Sam found her way to the kitchen and pulled out the makings for a sandwich. Making dinner for one wasn’t as much fun as when she first started living on her own.
Chapter 3
Christopher Remy was a practical man. He did things a certain way, because once you figured out how to do things the right way, there was no need to change the method. He cooked the same poached egg every morning. Toasted a bagel daily, buttering it lightly and adding a small dab of jam. He never over-salted his egg, but was liberal with the pepper. Juice was best served in a small glass so he didn’t over pour, easy to do with a good fresh batch. His coffee brewed each morning as he showered. After drying off, he sat drinking the java while answering a few clues on the latest crossword puzzle that he kept tucked aside on a clipboard.
Two down, chaotic. He wrote in the letters C-H-A-O-T-I-C with neat precision. Most people used a pencil in case they made a mistake, but Christopher didn’t enter a word unless he was certain it was correct. Why chance things? This way ink was a non-issue.
The word chaotic reminded him of his neighbor. That girl was a whirlwind of chaos, alright. Out of nowhere, he imagined running his fingers through the soft, bouncy waves that framed her face. The thought unnerved him. She wasn’t even his type. Shaking his head, he went back to his puzzle. Not that he wanted anything to do with the girl, though she did have nice hair. Whatever; it wasn’t a crime to admit it.
Christopher glanced at his wrist watch. The leather strap was showing wear. He’d worn the same watch for as long as he could remember. Noting the time, he calculated when he’d have to leave. He had an appointment to get to. Allowing for traffic, it should take him exactly sixteen minutes to get there, unless he gets the light on Vine. Then it would take seventeen minutes. He’d allow ten extra minutes letting him arrive early, so if he left shortly he’d have more than enough time.
Sipping the last of his coffee, he rinsed his plain blue mug out and loaded it into the dishwasher. His counter was clear, except for the stainless steel toaster on it. He preferred to have clutter free counters and tables and closets, along with a clutter free life.
Christopher could hear her banging around next door. What the heck is she doing over there? It was if an angry bear was cooking next door, pots and pans slamming. He needed to find a new place. Ever since she moved in, life wasn’t the same.
Sam danced to the music as she emptied the dishwasher, slipping the pots and pans into the cabinet. Glancing at the clock, she realized she was going to be late. Like a mad woman, she threw the last pans in the cabinet and slammed the door closed.
Grabbing her shoes, she wiggled her feet into them and then grabbed her bag. Crap, Grammy wasn’t going to be happy. She told her she’d take her to the market. The older she got, the more trouble she had driving. It wasn’t her eye sight, it was her road rage. After the fourth ticket, the officers suggested she let somebody else drive her for a while, suspending her license.
Of course, the fact that she threw her newly bought tomatoes at the car in front of her when they were stopped at the traffic light may have added into it. And that the car in front of her was a police officer, apparently taking too long to go when the light turned green. It didn’t end well. Grammy was cuffed, ticketed, and booked on a tomato throwing caper that made all the newspapers. It was the final nail in her license suspension.
Closing the door behind her, Sam saw him coming out. “Oh geez.”
“I’ll take the stairs,” he said.
“Oh, that’s real mature.” She’d never noticed him in a plain t-shirt before. He usually wore button down shirts and ties. When did his arms get that big? Sam pulled her eyes away from the biceps that were peeking out of the shirt.
Christopher didn’t answer. He simply went toward the stairwell.
Sam chased behind him. “Fine, be that way. Be a persnickety child who can’t share an elevator with a neighbor. In fact, you know what? I’m going to take the stairs, too.” Just to prove a point, she trudged down behind him.
Christopher sighed. Why? This wasn’t how he wanted to start his day. Spinning around, he asked her, “Must you follow me?”
“Follow you? Is that what you think this is?” She turned around and stomped back up the stairs she’d started to go down. “What is your problem?”
“Do you want a list?” He shot back sarcastically. “First, let’s talk about your van.”
She gasped. “It was you! I knew it. You’re the one who left me the note. Nobody else even cares. Why are you such a prick?”
“Nice language...for a sailor.”
“I don’t need the language police, thank you very much. The last time I checked, I was an adult,” she fumed.
And that’s when it happened. Down she went, bouncing and rolling onto the landing. It made a ghastly sound. Her ankle turned out under her, causing the fall. Her shrill squeal pierced the stairwell.
Christopher turned and ran up the stairs. “Are you okay?”
“Not like you care! But it hurts like hell. Heck,” she corrected quickly. It just seemed like the thing to do. Not that it was his business if she cussed like a sailor.
“Let me help you.” Leaning down, he slipped his arm under hers and lifted her to her feet. “What hurts?”
“Besides my pride? My ankle.” She shifted, trying to stand on her own, but it wasn’t happening. “Ouch, it hurts to put weight on it. I’m sure my ass will be bruised later from the bouncing.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head or anything. Do you want me to help you back to your place?”
“I should be fine, but thanks. I need to help my gram do her grocery shopping.”
“You should ice the ankle and elevate it. I don’t think you’re going to be walking around right now.”
“Thanks, Doc, but I’ll be fine.” Sam tried to gimp and winced in pain.
“Come on.” He let her lean into him again as she hobbled back up the stairs.
His arms and chest were more solid than she realized. His strength made him seem like a warrior coming to her defense. It was hard not to swoon, even if he was an asshole. “Thanks.” It didn’t make him a better person, he just felt nice to lean against.
Settling into her apartment, she called her grams to let her know she’d have to come over tomorrow, or maybe her mom could help. She relayed her fall and then apologized again. Her ankle was quickly swelling, and ice was a priority. Gram wished her well, and told her not to worry.
“Is it pressing? I could run something over to her if it’s an emergency,” he suggested.
“You would do that?” She couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice.
“I’m not a monster. My grandmother doesn’t drive either. I get it.”
Sam looked at him just a moment longer. There was a human under there after all.
“That’s nice, but she’ll be fine. My mom can run her to the store.”
“Do you need anything? I have an appointment to get to. I can bring you back something if you need it. Let me make you an ice bag.”
“Why are you being so...” Sam hesitated. “Nice?”
Christopher rolled his eyes. “Yeah, anyway, I’ve got to go.”
“Yeah, sorry. Thanks again.” She needed to work on her people skills. She shouldn’t have said that.
And just like that, he was gone. He took the stairs two at a time, trying to make up the lost minutes. It didn’t matter how fast he went, he’d be late. He hated being late. If only she hadn’t been so stubborn and taken the elevator. What is with her? It’s like she goes out of the way to be difficult!
Sam was surprised when she caught herself thinking about him after he left. She didn’t expect him to be so strong, and to actually help her. And
offering to bring something over to her gram, it took her off guard. It was actually kind of sweet and unexpected. Propping her ankle up, she realized she’d chased him away before he got the ice. Delicately hobbling to the freezer, she pulled out a bag of frozen peas. That’ll do for now.
Christopher didn’t expect her to be so soft or to smell so good. He didn’t know what perfume she was wearing, but her essence lingered the slightest bit on his shirt where she leaned in. Inhaling deeply, he hated to admit that she smelled nice. She was prickly, hard to be around at times, and yet when her guard was down, she was almost human.
Sitting in his car, Christopher lifted the material of his shirt closer to his face and took a quick whiff of the lingering fragrance before it faded away. It had been too long. How had so much time passed? It’s not like he dated often, but lately he hadn’t dated at all. Being that close felt good, even if it was the parking spot stealing girl. He should call Sheila from work. He’d been thinking of asking her out eventually. Maybe now would be a good time. Only, the thought didn’t excite him. It felt more like settling. Either way, he had to hurry. He was already late. Samantha snuck back into his mind again. Pushing the thought aside, he drove to his appointment.
Pulling up to the colonial blue house, he got out. The home was lined with a chain link fence and an attempt at a flower bed along the front of the house. A small boy ran out to see him.
The woman standing in the doorway called out to him, “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry. There was a...it doesn’t matter. Sorry to inconvenience you.”
Christopher followed them inside as the little boy danced around, bouncing like a super ball, full of excitement.
“How are you feeling?”
The woman shrugged. Her swollen belly stretched wider than since the last time Christopher had seen her. “Don’t let him eat too many sweets, and in bed by eight. If he goes to bed too late, he’s grouchy the next day.”
“Yes, Mom.” He teased her with a smile. He’d worn hostility for a long time, but when there are kids involved, you have to let it go. “You and Rita are really doing this?” He didn’t mean to say it, but couldn’t stop himself.
“Yeah.” She rubbed her belly. It was awkward, and some days she still felt badly. But once love became obvious, there was no stopping the train.
Crazy About Curves: 10 Luscious Reads Page 25
