by Tara Brown
I felt sick. My whole plan was taking a huge turn down a road I hadn’t been prepared for.
The cop shook his head. “It’s as much hers as it is yours—in our eyes.”
One of the other cops motioned for the guy to come over. “Lochlan, can I get you to sign this?”
Why didn’t he want my signature? I was the one who called? Maybe it was a witness statement for his defense, and I didn’t need one ‘cause I had called. I hugged myself and paced the living room.
The sobbing girl ran and grabbed her shirt from the bedroom. When she got back, she slapped the dark-haired guy and ran from the apartment.
The guy took the hit, staring daggers at me. “Guess there’ll be no prize with my happy meal.” I noticed the red was starting to lighten in his eyes, flashing dark-blue hatred at me. I hadn’t noticed his eyes were blue before. They had looked black—with hate. The way he furrowed his brow took away all the light from his eyes.
The cop laughed with the guy and pocketed the thing he had signed. “This is pretty funny. You have to admit. You being you and whatever.”
The guy didn’t look like he felt like laughing. He looked savage. I didn’t feel like laughing. I hugged myself and dialed the property manager’s office . . . again. When I got the answering machine, I felt homicidal.
The guy pointed to the door. “Well, now that we’ve determined this place is both of ours, can y’all leave and let me and her figure it out before we get evicted? And I’d like to get my shirt on.” He dried his dark hair with a tea towel. His ripped and tattooed body had droplets of water running down it. I tried not to look, but he was incredible to look at, like watching athletes or seeing a celebrity.
He caught me staring at him. I quickly changed my look of awe to annoyance. He gave me a half-assed grin, shaking his head.
The cop nodded at me. “You guys okay, alone together?” he almost joked, as if he was implying something. I ignored his weird comment and clutched my mace in my hands. I looked at the tall, angry guy next to me and sighed, realizing that there was no way out of it. I nodded. “I’m fine.” The guy left the room and came back with a shirt on. He rubbed his eyes. “My eyes are still fucking burning.”
The cops laughed again and left us standing in the living room, staring at each other. There was a darkness about him that scared me, like he might not be able to control it. His murderous stare didn’t lessen when he lifted one side of his lips into a cocky grin. “You want a beer?” He sounded annoyed still, but I caught something—a twang in the way he said beer. I could still see the hostility in his beyond-expressive eyes but his voice was calm and joking.
I nodded and sat on the couch. Angering him further wouldn’t help the situation. I pinched the bridge of my nose and took deep breaths. When I felt better, I looked up at him. “Since it’s your house too, I’m really sorry for spraying you with mace.” I really wasn’t though. The girl looked like a hooker. I didn’t want hookers in my house. The thought of it made me want to clean everything. Yuck. My mother would have had a fit.
He gave me the same cocky half smile and pointed at me. “I call bullshit on that. I’m gonna bet you feel pretty good about hosing me with it. You seemed to enjoy it.”
I bit my lip and nodded. “I probably saved you from paying for whatever that was going to cost you, and whatever STDs you would have gotten. We could call it even?”
He brought me a beer and sat across from me on the white couch against the opposite wall. “Funny. So where you from?”
I frowned. “Not here, obviously.” I wanted to unpack, clean my room, and make everything feel like home. I didn’t want to be having small talk with a sleazy, tattooed stranger, beautiful or not.
“You here for school?”
I nodded and took a sip of the beer, tapping my finger against the bottle. “So, you rented from T&N Property Managers as well then?” He nodded and took a long pull from his beer.
I ran my fingers through my hair and had a small sip of the beer. I processed it all as I wiped my mouth. “Who was the guy you spoke to? Tom?”
He shook his head. “Lady named Leslie.”
“So we spoke to two different people about renting the same place? Clearly a miscommunication.” I crossed my arms and sat back.
He gave me a look. “Obviously.”
I laughed. “Sorry, I have to say it out loud. It helps me figure it out. How much did you pay?”
“Fifteen hundred a month—all in—except my own cable and phone. But everything else is included.”
Tapping my fingers against the bottle, I contemplated it all. “Me too.”
“Clearly this is a mistake. I’m sure they’ll find you a nice place somewhere else.” He winked at me.
A frown crept across my brow. “Why do you assume I’ll leave?”
“Because my lease agreement was signed before yours.” He drank till it was empty and then sighed like he was refreshed.
I had no argument for what he’d said. Technically, his contract would be the one that was valid. A sickening feeling was creeping around inside of me, when my phone rang.
“Hello?” I snapped it up fast.
“Hi, Erin. It’s Tom Banks at T&N. I got your message. We definitely have an issue. We don’t have anything in that neighborhood or anything that is that nice.” His voice was annoying, or maybe it was his words.
I winced. “Can I put you on speaker? The other tenant is here as well.”
“Sure thing.”
I pressed speaker and held it out. He cleared his throat. “Like I said, Erin, we don’t have anything for rent that would compare. Can you two hang tight for a couple weeks until something comes up? It’s a two bedroom, no different than having a roommate.”
My eyes shot up at the dark-haired guy. He shrugged, but I shook my head. “You can’t expect me to live with a stranger?”
The dark-haired guy smirked. “My name’s Lochlan, Lochlan Barlow.” He said it like I might know him.
I scowled at him and sat upright. “Tom, you have to fix this. I came all the way from North Dakota. That’s a long way to come for this level of unprofessionalism. I signed a lease for a two-bedroom apartment, overlooking the park. I signed for this specific apartment. You can’t possibly think that we can just live together.” My heart was racing. “He could be a pervert. I can’t share a house with him. He’s already had some strange woman here. I think she was a hooker. He’s probably on drugs or something.”
Lochlan’s dark eyebrows went up. “Whoa now. Hold on. I don’t need some prissy little girl calling me a pervert, Tom. That hooker-looking girl happened to be a very friendly server at Cappy’s.” He gave me a cold stare, but I caught the slightest bit of amusement in it. “Now, I signed the lease before she did. I rented this before her. If she’s gonna be calling me names and shit, or macing me again, well then, I think she has to leave.”
Tom sighed loudly. “Look, you two, it’s the start of the new semester. We never have anything for this time of year. I am very sorry. We will throw in this half month for free—and next month. So August and September will be free. If you can just adjust and be okay with a couple weeks together, we are bound to find a few suitable places. I will reimburse the rent you’ve paid for August and September. Then, starting in October, you will only have to pay half of your rent for each of the months that you’re together. Surely a compromise is possible. Act like adults for God’s sake. I’ll send over new contracts for this month and we will go month to month from there, until you’re comfortable signing a full-year lease together or we find another apartment. Lochlan, your lease will supersede hers still, though. I’ll have something added that if you forfeit on the new leases, the old ones are reinstated. I don’t know what else to suggest.”
I was about to lose it, so I stood and paced. “This is unacceptable. I’m a law student; I don’t need some hood rat bringing home women. I paid the money, and we have a contract. I could sue you—”
Lochlan cut me off. “I’m in.
I want my rent back—I’m in for sure. I’ve always liked having a roommate. Least this one’s easy on the eyes, Tom.”
Tom chuckled into the phone. “Well, good luck with that, Lochlan, not that you’ll need it. Goodbye Erin, let me know what you decide.” With that he hung up.
I stood there staring at the phone, wondering what in the hell had just happened.
I dropped back onto the couch. “This can’t be happening.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s alright, princess. You’ll get by. It’s six—maybe eight weeks tops, like the man said. How hard can it be? Surely you had roommates in North Dakota.”
I felt a loss of control. I didn’t like that feeling. I stood up abruptly and walked to the doorway to get my bags, snarling at him, “I guess I’ll take the other room, since you already had a friend sleep over.”
He put his hands up but never stopped smiling. “Hey, I got here today too. She wasn’t my friend, and she didn’t sleep over. She was my waitress. Now, since you ran her off, I’d be more than happy to let you take her place. You can pay me back for macing me.” He winked and gave me a one-sided smile.
I growled and lifted the mace again. He put his hands in the air. “It was a joke, princess.”
I made a guttural noise. “Stop calling me that. I’m not a princess.” I turned and dragged my crap to my room. When I closed the door, I felt like everything was spinning out of control.
How had this become my reality?
I plunked onto my bed and texted my brother.
‘I have an issue.’
He didn’t respond. I felt my lower lip creeping out as the pout took over. Instead of being a baby and letting it get me down, I started unpacking. I could control this space. This was mine.
I set up everything and checked the bed to ensure it was actually clean. Part of the payment of the damage deposit had been professional cleaners and fresh linens. It had been the ideal place to rent. I sat on the bed and sighed. Everything had been perfect for five whole seconds. But now I couldn’t let myself get too comfortable. The blue-eyed devil with the cocky grin was no doubt getting this place. I would be packing and moving all over again.
A knock startled me. I looked at the door confused. Did he want us to talk and be friends . . . like he wasn’t stealing my home? “What?”
He opened the door. “Come with me,” he said it expectantly.
I felt myself pulling backwards, farther onto the bed. “What?” I asked disgustedly.
He put a huge hand out. I noticed the callouses on the tips of his fingers. “Come with me. I have an idea.”
I looked at his hand, like he was holding something dangerous out for me to look at. I stood but didn’t move toward the door. He laughed and stepped back so I could walk out. When I got into the hallway, he just looked down on me, like he was studying me. Being close to him in the hallway made me clutch my mace and force my brain to ignore how hot he was. Goddamned, he was hot.
His look turned shady as his eyes traveled every contour of my face. I sneered, making him smile. “Hmm,” he made a sound and walked away. I followed him to the front door with my key in my pocket and mace in my hand, in case he got any funny ideas. But he left first and locked it when I stepped out.
I walked in his shadow and tried to ignore how tall and big he was or how good he smelled.
He was the enemy. The sexy enemy. Why did he have to be so attractive?
I grinned bitterly. “You know the gentlemanly thing to do would be to let me stay.”
He looked back and winked. “I know. That’s why I am.”
I hated him, even if he smelled good and looked like sex on a stick. He was tall—six foot two maybe, with a thickness to him that made his tee shirt tight in the chest and arms. But he wasn’t bulky. He was lean and strong looking. His dark hair was cut and styled in a fohawk, with some of it hanging in the back, almost like a mullet, but somehow on his cocky, sexy body, it was hot. I noticed a huge sun tattoo at the base of his neck, sticking out the top of his shirt. His back flexed as he walked. I mentally slapped myself. It was hot in the stairwell, and I hadn’t had sex in a while. That’s all it was. I didn’t sleep around, and not with guys who had already done it once that day with someone else. I shuddered, imagining it.
We walked down the street, not talking. It was awkward and annoying. He slowed down when I fell behind, waiting for me. “You hungry?”
I shrugged and walked next to him. I had wanted to be done my run and drinking a smoothie, or whatever cool dinner I had made myself. He was messing with my plan. For some reason, I didn’t mind as much as I was protesting and acting like I did. I felt protected being with him. He was capable. I let him lead me around. It was like being with my brother and his friends. There was a secure feeling with him. Apart from the fact I wanted to take his clothes off, he was comfortable and safe. Like Mick had been. Only I was ridiculously attracted to Lochlan. It was an odd new experience, and I didn’t even know why I was letting it happen. I rationalized that we needed to get to know each other, but I knew I didn’t care about that. I tried to tell myself that he was too close to me, smelling good and hovering, but I liked it. I could rationalize the devil out of it, but something about him made me want to take my shirt off and then his shirt off, and from there it got very X-rated. He was exactly like that song about it getting hot and everyone taking their clothes off. I tugged at the neckline of my tee shirt and exhaled sexual frustrations I never even knew I had.
He stopped at a dingy restaurant and opened the door for me. Cool air blasted from inside. I scrunched up my nose and stepped in. He walked ahead of me, when I stopped and stared at the décor. I followed him, gazing all around me, stunned at the smells and scary-looking people.
I looked around as we neared a table. “We just seat ourselves?” I asked, a little confused. He laughed and plunked into the booth. I sat down slowly, trying to see if I was sitting in anything. It wasn’t my kind of place. I wasn’t a total snob; my favorite foods were vendor-style truck foods like on the show Eat Street, but this was like a truck stop. The greasy-haired people seemed seedy, and I felt like I stuck out.
“Relax, princess. They won’t bite you.”
I gave him a look. He winked. “I might though.”
We were interrupted by a waitress with big boobs and huge blonde hair. She was instantly sexing him up with her stare. He enchanted every inch of her too. Some people had behavioral ticks—Lochlan’s was sex appeal, a charm that made me want to touch him or be near him. The waitress noticed it, ladies on the street noticed it. Shit, half the guys on the street noticed it.
He played with the saltshakers, glancing up at her through his thick lashes. “We’ll have two mugs of amber pale ale and,” he paused and looked at me. “You eat meat?”
I nodded, feeling completely confused by him.
“And two of the house burgers with fries, please.”
She giggled and left. “Sure thing.”
He held my stare for a minute and then sat back confidently, like he was taking me in. “What’s your deal?”
I thought I misheard him for a second. I was still waiting for my menu. I looked at the back of the waitress and then him, and shook my head like I was losing my mind. “Did you seriously just order for me?”
He folded his arms and tilted his head, licking his lips. He didn’t answer.
I leaned in. “Are you insane? Who just orders a stranger food?”
He blinked his long, dark lashes at me flatly. “My name is Lochlan Barlow. I’m from Tennessee. I’m a Scorpio, and I don’t really like long walks on the beach or romantic movies or anything like that. I like to shoot pool, hang with my friends and drink beer.” His voice dropped. “You wanna know a secret? I find gardening therapeutic, and chess with my grandpa, but he’s passed away now.”
I had no response for his mocking me. He was clearly insane and a sarcastic, entitled asshole to boot.
He waited for me to respond but I had nothing, so I looked arou
nd the restaurant—if you could call it that. I smiled at the waitress when she brought the beers. “Thank you.” She ignored me and grinned at him. “You aren’t really Lochlan Barlow from Thin Ice, are you?”
He nodded his head once. “I am.” He said it like he might toss his fohawk about at any second. She looked like she might pay him to do it. Thin Ice? I racked my brain, but I didn’t know what it was. Was it a show? Was he a movie star? He looked like one.
Her eyes widened, like she was going to have a heart attack. She gushed, sliding a napkin at him. “Can you sign this?” Her voice was a squeak.
He chuckled. “What’s your name, darlin’?” He was very Tennessee when he said darling.
She batted her chunky, black lashes at him. “Darla.”
He gave her a subtle smile. It was sweet and sexy as hell. “Darla—that’s pretty darn close to darling.”
She giggled and I watched in horror as he took the pen and scrawled some kind of chicken scratch on the napkin.
I drank my beer, shaking my head slowly at the spectacle. His cocky, shit attitude was somehow appealing to this woman for whatever Thin Ice was. She hugged it to her chest and ran to the back of the restaurant.
His charm shut off when he looked at me. I could see a difference in the way he spoke to me and looked at me, compared to her. He nodded. “What’s your deal?” He was almost rude to me.
I shook my head. I was completely confused, gripping my beer for fear I would throw it in his face.
He flashed me a sarcastic smile and leaned forward. “This is not going well, I mean, as far as first dates go. I mean, I don’t really date. I’m more of a get-down-to-business sort of guy. Get in and get out, ya know?”
I shook my head. I honestly didn’t want to know.
“You seem really tense. Maybe we should have a couple shots first.” He waved the waitress back over. “Two shots of Jack. Make `em doubles.”
She winked at him. I had thought he was being charming to me, but after seeing him lay it on thick, I realized the way he was with me was his natural state. With her, he seemed to be trying at it.