“The agent never answers their phone and always takes at least two days to call me back.” Her tone was officious, but her eyes teased. “Will you be more reliable?”
“It would be hard not to be,” he said as he gestured to his own front door. “I’ve moved in next to you.”
She gave a little gasp before smiling at him in apparent delight. “Isn’t that handy. You’ll be available any time I want you.” If he hadn’t known better, Brady would’ve thought she was flirting with him. Which made no sense, considering her boyfriend was somewhere inside. And where the hell was he anyway? If Katrina was Brady’s woman, there was no way he’d have her answering the door after dark looking like some teenager’s wet dream. What the hell was the man thinking?
As if reading his thoughts, Katrina turned her head and called, “Jeremy, come meet our new neighbour slash landlord.”
“Do I have to?” The voice that drifted from somewhere further in was tinged with annoyance. Not surprising, considering what these two had obviously been doing when he knocked on the door. Brady swallowed hard and pretended his cock wasn’t twitching at the thought. It had been way too long since he’d been laid.
“Yes, you have to,” Katrina responded.
“Is he hot?”
She looked back at Brady with a grin and winked. “Yes.”
There was a scuffle of feet and then the door opened wider as Katrina’s boyfriend appeared by her side. He was a couple of centimetres taller than Brady. Leaner, but strong. Clear green eyes lit up at the sight of him, despite the shock of brown hair getting in the way. Brady damn near forgot how to breathe.
“Holy crap.” The man laughed as he openly perused Brady from head to boot. “Where the hell have you been?”
Katrina’s brow crinkled. “You two know each other?”
“Not yet, but let’s not rule anything out.” He took a step forward, one hand held out in greeting. “I’m Jeremy Hayden, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Brady lowered his eyes as they shook. His palm twitched at the feel of warm skin. Yeah, that getting laid thing—too fucking long. “Likewise,” he croaked. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Sorry about interrupting your evening, Katrina, Jeremy,” he said, gesturing to them. “I’ll get out of your hair.” The sooner he got away from these two the better. Even if he spent the remainder of the evening imagining them together, at least in the privacy of his own apartment he wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught doing it.
He’d started to turn away when the sound of Katrina’s voice made him pause. “It’s just Trina,” she said. “It says Katrina on my birth certificate, but everyone calls me Trina.”
He nodded as he caressed the curves of her face with his gaze. “Trina.” It was only a word, nothing more, but the way it came out of his mouth, even he could hear the lust that underpinned his tone—he made her name sound like an invitation. Her feminine intake of breath was an all too eager reply.
Brady swallowed hard as his gaze darted to Jeremy. The other man watched the two of them with eyes that saw too much and Brady thought for sure he’d cop a fist to the face. He’d damn well deserve it too.
Instead, Jeremy gestured to him with one arm. “I think you should come inside, Brady,” he said. “The night is young and I’m making us all coffee. It would be rude if you didn’t drink it.” Without waiting for an answer, he headed around the corner to the nearby kitchen.
Brady shook his head, took a single step backward. “I shouldn’t.” If he’d thought meeting the other tenants was painful, coming face-to-face with these two was an exercise in torture. It was like God and the Devil conspired to create the perfect incarnation of everything he was running away from, and threw them in his face. He already had to live beside them. If he started spending time with them he may implode.
Trina watched him in silence as he stood there staring at her like the indecisive git he was. “You’re welcome to join us,” she told him. “But we’ll understand if you have other things you need to do.”
She was giving him an out, just like Uncle Ben had when he left him this place. He could take it. Go into his apartment and close the door behind him. He could pretend he’d gotten used to being alone, that the darkness he’d hidden in this past year hadn’t become oppressive.
Or he could join his new neighbours for a cup of coffee—and not be alone for a while.
He took a tentative step forward. “Coffee sounds good.”
Chapter 6
Trina sank onto the lumpy brown couch beside Brady as Jeremy moved around the kitchen. An awkward silence had fallen the moment she closed the front door and Brady didn’t seem inclined to break it. Instead, he sat perched on the edge of the couch cushion, his hands clasped in a death grip in front of him. She had no idea why he would be so uptight about a simple cup of coffee. It was possible Jeremy’s flirting had spooked him, not every man could handle that sort of attention. But then again, if it really bothered him he would have refused the offer and gone home.
“When did you move in next door?” she asked. His tense silence was disconcerting, and she figured making conversation was the best way to break him out of it.
“Early last week.” He inclined his head in her direction, but kept his eyes focused on his hands.
“Wow. You’re really quiet.” Trina gestured to the wall on the far side of the living room. “We share a wall, but Jeremy and I didn’t even realise you were there.”
“That was the idea.” He grimaced as soon as he said the words, as if they’d popped out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I mean, I didn’t want to announce my presence until I was settled in.”
“I get that,” she said. “Who knew how many broken toilets and other assorted complaints were waiting for you?”
He lifted a dismissive shoulder. “The work doesn’t bother me.”
But people do. Trina heard the words he didn’t add, clear as day. She wondered what, or who, had made him into such a loner. Honestly, he was too handsome to be closeted away from the world.
“Well, you officially announced your presence when you knocked on our door. There’s no escaping us now.”
“I’ll second that,” Jeremy said as he deposited two steaming mugs of coffee on the table before them. “And now we have you in our clutches, Brady, I must ask you a personal question.”
Brady nodded his thanks as he picked up his cup and took a sip of the hot liquid before he replied, “Can’t guarantee I’ll answer, but go ahead and ask.”
“Excellent, because this is important.” Jeremy retraced the few steps to the kitchen to collect his own mug, bringing a plate heaped with chocolate biscuits back with him. He took his time settling into the room’s single armchair before levelling Brady with a piercing gaze. “Are you going to be the kind of landlord who yells at us when we have a party?”
Brady’s shoulders dropped at least five centimetres and a grin appeared as he shook his head. “No.”
“And you’re not going to watch our every move?”
Trina felt a little shiver of pleasure go through her at the thought of Brady watching her with those dark, brooding eyes and she gave a mental cringe. Ten minutes ago, she’d been plastered against a nearby wall with Jeremy’s tongue halfway down her throat and his hands wandering her body like his own personal playground. Now she was turned on by the thought of the hot new neighbour keeping a lustful eye on her from next door. Sleazy much?
“You pay the rent on time,” Brady said. “If something breaks I’ll fix it. That’s it. I won’t bother you about petty bullshit, and you won’t see me unless you need to.”
Jeremy seemed to ponder the notion. “This place is in pretty good repair so we probably won’t need you often,” he said. “But what if we want you?”
Brady’s mug froze halfway to his mouth and his gaze snapped up to Jeremy’s face. Trina’s lips parted as she watched Jeremy and Brady stare at each other. The air between them grew heavy with understanding. Her imagination, insp
ired by Jeremy’s words, rushed to provide visuals of Jeremy and Brady wanting each other—and her. Her nether regions pulsed in encouragement and she closed her eyes, pushing the offending images away. She was supposed to be fixing her life, basing her actions on logic and common sense. Indulging in sexual fantasies about whomever happened to take her fancy was not in any way logical.
“What if we want to see you, I mean,” Jeremy clarified when the silence lengthened, though a wicked half-smile curved his lips as he spoke. “Because I’m pretty sure we’d both like to see more of you. Wouldn’t you agree, Trina?”
Both sets of eyes turned to her and she tried not to whimper. “Of course we’ll see more of you.” She stretched her mouth into a smile she hoped was completely devoid of innuendo. Jeremy was using enough of that for both of them. “You are our neighbour now, after all.”
Brady frowned, glancing back and forth between them as if they presented a complex problem he had to figure out. “How long have you two been together?”
“Together?” Her eyes widened as she realised what he meant. “Oh, we’re not a couple.” She gestured to herself and Jeremy with one hand as she spoke. “We’re just friends… and flatmates. Isn’t that right, Jer?”
“I don’t think there’s any ‘just’ about it.” He winked at her and she was duly reminded if Brady hadn’t knocked on the door, she and Jeremy would likely be having sex right about now. Incredibly hot sex, if their make out session was any indication. Her body still hummed with unfulfilled promises of pleasure at the thought.
She couldn’t help but be grateful, though, for Brady’s timely arrival. She was pretty sure nothing else would have given her the strength to pull herself from Jeremy’s arms, and the thought of living with her gay lover while actively hunting for her future husband was too complicated to wrap her mind around.
“Don’t mind Trina,” she heard Jeremy say, as if she wasn’t sitting right freaking there. “She’s cranky tonight because I kissed her.”
She threw her arms in the air in sudden aggravation. “You’re gay, Jeremy! I’m not supposed to get hit on by my gay flatmate.” Brady watched them both with avid curiosity and she dropped her face into her hands as she groaned in embarrassment. “I have a right to be surprised.” She refused to use the word cranky, it implied she was being unreasonable, which she most definitely wasn’t.
Brady nodded before turning to Jeremy. “Why did you kiss her?”
Jeremy’s mouth curved into that crooked grin that got to Trina every time. “You’re kidding, right? Look at her.”
Brady looked at her—sideways and from beneath lowered lashes—before clearing his throat. “Point taken.”
“Exactly,” Jeremy replied with a low chuckle. “Fuck man, I’m not that gay.”
Trina flushed in discomfort, and something else she preferred not to name but which kept her nether regions warm and achy.
“What about you, Brady?” Jeremy asked.
Brady took another sip of his coffee before he replied. “What about me?”
“Which way do you roll? What team do you play for?”
Eyes wide, Trina cut him off before he could come up with another variation of his question. “Jer, we just met this man. Do you really think this interrogation is appropriate?”
“What? I’m making conversation.” He shrugged, as if he had no clue as to what she could possibly be complaining about. “No one here had a problem discussing my sexuality. I’m merely returning the favour.”
“It’s okay,” Brady interrupted, shaking his head. “I’m um… straight.”
There was silence as they all acknowledged the ‘big enough to drive a truck through it’ hesitation that had sprung up in the middle of Brady’s response. She could only hope Jeremy wouldn’t make a big deal of it.
Hope died when she saw his brows lower in speculation. “Straight as an arrow?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Trina muttered, rolling her eyes. Jeremy always had been straight to the point about everything—except the part where he wanted to have sex with her—but this was ridiculous.
Brady was silent for a long moment, his fingers flexing around his mug as he fought some kind of internal battle. Trina wondered if he’d ever had this sort of conversation before. If he had, it clearly hadn’t gone well. One side appeared to win when Brady looked Jeremy in the eyes and said, “As a kind of bent arrow.”
A slow smile inched its way across Jeremy’s face and Trina decided it was time to lend a hand. No one should have to face Jeremy’s directness without backup. “So, you’re not gay, but you’re not completely straight either.”
“Yes.” Brady released a long, slow breath. “A bent arrow is still an arrow.”
“Even if it occasionally likes dick?” Jeremy asked, tossing all use of metaphors aside.
Trina whacked herself in the forehead with one hand. “You’re not helping, Jer.”
Jeremy gave a dramatic sigh, his gaze never leaving Brady’s face. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to tease.”
Brady dropped his head between his shoulders and rubbed a hand over his face. A short laugh sounded as his body visibly relaxed. “Don’t worry about it.” He tossed back the last of his coffee in a way that made Trina think he wished it was something stronger.
“Right then,” Jeremy said, “you’re mostly straight. I’m mostly gay. And Trina is?”
Trina fell back against the arm of the couch with a loud groan as all eyes landed on her once more. “We can’t all be naturally flexible, you know. I can appreciate a beautiful woman as much as the next man, but it doesn’t mean I want to have sex with her.”
“Never, Trina?” It was Brady who asked the question this time, his voice barely above a murmur. It was the first time he’d been the one to tease. She liked it.
“Maybe one time,” she admitted, before dissolving into giggles.
Jeremy broke into a loud applause, whooping in delight.
Trina’s laughter died in her throat when she realised how closely Brady watched her, an enigmatic expression on his face. And when she met his gaze, there was something there between them, just as there had been something between him and Jeremy. Just as there was something between Jeremy and her. Holy crap, her life was officially fucked.
Chapter 7
Brady was bailed up against the garage wall when Trina came down the stairs with a basket full of clean laundry. She could see another basket at the far end of the building’s communal washing line. A single pair of jeans was pegged onto it. Brady must have just started the same task Trina was about to begin, when he fell prey to the local cougar.
“It’s my little way of saying welcome to the building,” Mrs Adams said as she pressed a plastic container full of blueberry muffins into Brady’s hands. “You do like baked goods, don’t you, Brady?”
“Yes.” He took hold of the box, keeping it firmly in place between them. “Thank you.”
Mrs Adams licked her lips as she raked his body with her gaze. “You don’t say much, do you?”
Brady cleared his throat. “Not really.”
A light giggle tinkled through the air. “I bet I could get you to make some noise.”
Rolling her eyes, Trina allowed her footfalls to land heavier than usual as she descended the stairs. The soles of her shoes made a solid thwacking sound on each of the metal steps. “Good afternoon, Mrs Adams,” she called out as she crossed the concrete.
Brady started at the sound of her voice. Mrs Adams, on the other hand, simply frowned at the unwanted interruption.
“Hello, Brady,” Trina continued with a cheery smile. “How are you today?”
“Fine,” he replied with a curt nod before he turned back to the older woman. “Thank you again for the muffins, Mrs Adams.”
“Come now, Brady,” she cooed, “call me Belinda.” She reached out, intent on trailing one manicured hand down Brady’s arm, but caught only air when he sidestepped away from her. The movement wasn’t pronounced enough to be rude, but it s
eemed to get the point across, if the look on Mrs Adams face was any indication. “I’ll see you later,” she added before stalking away in a huff.
Trina managed to hold out until the door to Number One slammed shut, then she burst out laughing.
“What the hell was that about?” Brady asked as he joined her, the muffin container clutched in one hand.
Dropping her basket at the far end of the line from his, Trina picked up a wet shirt and gave it a shake before pegging it on the line. “I don’t know what you mean?”
With a murmur of disbelief, Brady returned to his own basket and placed the container beside it. Grabbing a pair of jeans from the top of his pile, he gestured in the direction Mrs Adams had taken when she left. “Does she really give muffins to everyone who moves into the building?”
“Sort of.” Trina hung a dress over the line. “Let’s just say, no woman has ever received such a warm welcome.”
Brady paused to look at her. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m dead serious.” She hoped he didn’t notice her slipping her red lace, g-string on the line behind the dress. “Those muffins have a strict penis requirement.”
A frustrated groan sounded and Trina had to hold in more laughter. “Don’t worry. Once she realises you’re not interested she’ll back off. One word of advice though,” she paused to make sure he was paying attention before she continued in as serious a tone as she could muster. “Don’t go alone when you return the container. She may answer the door in her underwear.”
Brady’s eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know?”
“I took back the container she gave Jeremy. Which was sweet of me considering he ate every last muffin before I had a chance to try one.” He’d declared them so good he’d be tempted to take the older woman up on any other offers if it meant he could have more muffins. Not about to let that happen, Trina had taken the stupid container back to its owner at the first opportunity. When Mrs Adams had answered the door, her satin dressing gown parted down the front to reveal a little black lace and a lot of skin, they’d both gotten a nasty shock. “You should have seen her face when I told her Jeremy’s gay,” she said, chortling at the memory.
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