Her shoulders are rigid, and her hands are balled into tight fists.
“I’m sure you can take off one night.”
She whirls, her eyes flashing. “Don’t assume that being my landlord means you can tell me what to do in my private life.”
Is she mental?
“Jesus. Don’t overact over a simple invitation. You don’t want to go, fine by me.”
Moving past her, I go in search of another box. As soon as we’re done bringing them in, I’m getting the hell out of here. When her grandpa asked for my help, I figured I’d be moving furniture all day. Turns out she sold most of her stuff before she moved.
From what I gathered, some new furniture is being delivered in the next day or so. I’m not even going to ask what she’s sleeping on tonight because if I do she’ll probably bite my head off.
I’ve unloaded a couple more boxes when I hear her behind me.
“I’m sorry. I’m stressed and I’m taking it out on you.”
There are bags under her eyes, evidence of the stress she mentioned.
”Apology accepted.”
Her face brightens. “I was going to order a pizza. Want some?”
A pizza peace offering. “Sure.”
I linger in the room waiting to see if she’ll say anything else. It’s not a long wait.
“What kind do you like? Pizza, I mean.”
She’s holding her cell phone with both hands. If it were a cloth, she’d be wringing it.
“Works or supreme, but if it’s pizza I’m not choosy, I’ll eat anything.”
“Okay, cool. A couple of different places came up in the search. Is Oscar’s any good?”
“It’s great pizza. They’re huge, unless you plan on eating pizza for a week, get a medium.”
The corners of her mouth lift in a halfhearted smile. “Thanks.”
It’s not much, but I’ll take it.
Hell, I’m like a dog begging for scraps here. I can’t fault her attitude or distance.
Even I get breakups suck. She was with her man long enough for it to suck significantly more than an average breakup.
While she orders the pizza, I finish unloading my truck.
I’m setting the last box in her bedroom when I hear her clear her throat behind me. A glance over my shoulder confirms it.
“It should be here in twenty minutes.”
I turn, and point to the box. “That was the last one. Did you need me to make another run from your grandpa’s?”
Her eyes widen. “Really, the last one?”
Giving her a slow nod, I step toward her. “Do you have anything besides water that’s cold to drink?”
She jumps and practically speed walks to the kitchen. I take my time joining her.
Standing in front of the open fridge, she starts rattling off options. “I have Sprite, orange juice, and iced tea.”
Asking if she’d look again for a beer is on the tip of my tongue but I decide to settle with what she has. “I’ll take a Sprite please.”
She pours some into a red solo cup and passes it to me. “I need to buy new glasses.”
I look around the kitchen, it dawning on me there weren’t many boxes labeled to come in here. “You sure sold a lot.”
Setting out another cup, she pours a drink for herself. “I don’t get overly attached to things. Plus, it makes moving a lot easier.”
“That’s the truth. This is by far the easiest move I’ve ever helped with.”
She smiles and pats herself on the back. “I try. This move may have been my fastest. I feel bad you carried in most of the boxes.”
I lean against the cabinet, grateful I was able to finish the kitchen before she moved in. “Don’t worry about it. You’re paying me back in pizza.”
“Those are awesome rates.”
“I’m pretty sure the high school kid across the street would have done it for a smile.”
She chokes on her drink.
I keep going. “I should have kept that to myself so you’d keep on thinking you got a good deal.”
She nods. “That’s right. Geez, how will I go on knowing what I’m paying is highway robbery in comparison to the competition.”
“I’m a killer of dreams, it’s what I do.”
She shakes her head. “You’re something all right.”
Pushing away from the cabinet, I straighten. “Was that a compliment?”
She waves her hands furiously. “Only you would assume that. You must be the most self-confident man on the planet.”
I return to my lean. “Is that why you are hell-bent on bringing me down a peg or two?”
At this she blushes. “Have I really been that mean?”
Resting my hand on my chest, I fist my t-shirt. “The pain.”
She reaches into an open box and throws a dish towel at me. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
Hunching over, I fake sob into the towel.
“You are ridiculous,” she says, coming to stand in front of me as she tries to pull the towel away from me.
After a few tugs, I let go, making her take a step back.
Moving past her, I peer into the box. “Want help unpacking the kitchen while we wait for the pizza to show up?”
Bumping me aside with her hip, she claims the box by putting her hands on either side of it. “This one is mine. You can start another one if you want.”
There are three boxes total to be unpacked in here. “Any one in particular, or whichever one I want?”
She laughs, which was my goal. “I don’t know, there are so many.”
Making an executive decision, I go for the closest one. “This box appears to be superior. I will unpack this one.”
She gives my box a once over before nodding in approval. “That’s a good looking box.”
We stare at each other, both trying so hard not to laugh. She folds first, bending at the middle and holding her sides as she laughs loudly. Her laughs set me off.
Every time we stop laughing, one look at the other sets us off again. We only stop when the doorbell rings.
While she pays, I dig paper plates out of her box and pull out two.
She joins me a minute later, holding the box while she deeply inhales. “I hope it’s as good as it smells.”
I take the box from her. “It’s better.”
We’re about to start eating when her phone starts ringing. Her easygoing expression disappears when she looks at the display.
Setting her plate down, she grabs her phone and walks out of the room. “I’m sorry. I have to take this.”
Before I can tell her not to worry about it, she’s already halfway down the hall to her bedroom.
Even after I hear the door shut, I can still hear what she says.
“Thanks for finally returning my call.”
It’s the anger in her voice and the way she stresses the word finally that has me setting down my own plate to listen.
“What?”
Her one-word question is coated in surprise.
“You don’t seriously think I’d make this up, do you?”
I have to lean toward the hall to listen when her voice lowers. The surprise is still there, now joined with sadness.
Her breath hitches. “I’d never do that to you.”
The urge to go to her, to pull her into my arms and hold her is overwhelming.
“You don’t know what to believe? I can tell you, you believe in me.”
She can only be talking to her ex, the jerk who was here one minute and dissolved into midair the next. Doesn’t she realize how much better off she is without a guy like that? Why does it sound like she’s trying to reconcile?
There’s a sob. “You don’t mean that.”
The pain in what she says, the rawness to it, hits me like a punch in the gut.
I’m torn between staying in the kitchen and going to her. The only thing stopping me is the likelihood she’d push me away and tell me to mind my own business.
My hands ball into fi
sts as I tell myself to calm down.
“I never wanted you to leave but this isn’t some ploy to get you back.”
I take one step toward the hall.
“Don’t you even think about blaming this on me.”
The anger in her voice has returned. I can handle her sounding pissed off at her ex a lot more than I can handle her sounding sad.
“If that’s how you want it, I guess I don’t have much choice in the matter.”
How quickly she went from angry to resigned.
“I guess I’m an idiot for thinking this call would go differently.”
This isn’t resigned, this is what defeated sounds like.
Screw it, I’m going in.
I do nothing to quiet my approach. The last thing I want to do is startle her.
With no pictures on the walls, there’s an echo to my steps as I near the master. The door is shut but not locked. I slowly push it open and find her right there, phone to her ear, stains from her tears lining her cheeks.
Her eyes widen before my arms envelop her. She’s stiff, her back ramrod straight. Then, with a little hiccup sigh, she relaxes against me, her forehead hitting my chest.
“I guess there’s nothing left to say.”
I can hear when he replies, just not what he says. Whatever it is, makes her suck in a breath.
“I can’t believe you. I feel like I never even knew you.”
Though the words aren’t clear, the bite of his response is unmistakable.
She pulls the phone away and ends the call. Wordlessly, I loosen my grip enough for her arm to fall down to her side. Her arms stay at her sides. She’s letting me hold her but there’s no mistake, she isn’t holding me back.
If the embrace were romantic I’d care. My only concern right now is her and how brutal that call sounded.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
She shakes her head which doesn’t surprise me.
“You might not want to now, but if you change your mind, let me know.”
“Thank you.”
Her voice is small, her tone is tired but somehow also formal. It makes me want to shake her for bottling whatever she’s going through up.
Eli is notorious for doing the same thing and it never works out for him. No, when he blows there’s always a ring of carnage around him.
“If you don’t talk to me, can you promise you’ll talk to someone?”
She turns her head so that her cheek and not her forehead now rests on my chest. “My friend Rissa will be here in a couple days.”
“Good.”
It’s not long, maybe two minutes, before she pulls away to go wash her face.
All I want to do is follow her and kiss her until she forgets him. That’s what I want. What she wants is a friend so that’s what I’ll be for her right now.
Back in the kitchen, I decide it’s time for a subject change. “Tell me about Rissa.”
For the first time since she answered her phone, she smiles. “Rissa is the best and fair warning, she’s probably going to flirt with you.”
I wish she would flirt with me. “How did you two meet?”
She holds up her hand for me to wait and hurries into the living room. Since it’s an open floor plan, I watch as she begins digging through a box in there. It doesn’t take her long to find what she was looking for, and she returns, holding a book.
“She’s an author and I narrate her books. This is the first book I narrated for her.”
She passes it to me. There’s a shirtless man with a pack of wolves on the cover.
“That’s cool. I’ve never met an author before. What’s it about?”
Her face lights up as she points to the guy on the cover. “His name is Kaze and he’s a shifter. Sometimes he’s a man, sometimes he’s a wolf. He falls in love with Macy and all hell breaks loose because she’s already betrothed to a tiger shifter.”
My eyes widen as I flip the book over to read the back. “How does that work, exactly?”
Her sweet laugh makes my stomach feel weird. “Oh trust me, it works. Her books are amazing and I’m not just saying that because we’re friends.”
“Will your new furniture be here in time?”
She nods. “The beds and sofa should be, but if it isn’t, Abby said I could borrow the furniture she sometimes uses to stage houses.”
“What about dressers, tables, and chairs?”
Squaring her shoulders, she looks past me into the open living space. “I want the opportunity to discover pieces. After my audio session tomorrow, I want to check out some second-hand shops.”
I’ve been curious about her setup and had meant to ask about it. “Are you going to record from here?”
With a nod and a tilt of her head, she motions for me to follow her. It doesn’t surprise me when she leads me to the bonus room since it’s the only room I haven’t moved any boxes into today.
The difference from the last time I was in this room is surprising. Though, since she needs her equipment set up to work, it shouldn’t be a shock she made it a priority.
The bonus room is long, her equipment all set up at the far end of it. Halfway into the space, sound muting panels hang from the walls.
“How did you mount these?” I ask, my finger tracing the edge of one.
She holds up her hands in surrender. “I swear I didn’t hurt the walls. The panels are light so I used peal away Velcro strips. They’ll come right off when I take them down.”
“That’s cool.”
I spin around, taking it in. “I like how they’re white so they blend right in with the rest of the room.”
She lowers her hands with an expression of relief. “I like bright spaces. I was so happy when I learned the skylights were thick enough to block out noise so I could make this my studio.”
Looking at her face, it’s plain to see she belongs here. This room was made for her.
As unsure as I was about renting to her, this moment right here is what tells me I made the right decision.
I move closer to her recording setup. “Wow, I can’t lie, it kinda feels like the cockpit of a jet with all of these controls.”
She moves beside me and sinks down into her chair, her hands moving over it. “Best career investment I ever made.”
“How so?”
She spins her chair to face me and counts on her fingers. “I don’t have to pay studio fees, and deal with booking a space, my schedule is completely up to me so if I feel like recording in the middle of the night I can, and since I know how to edit, I’m my own one-woman shop.”
“Other than not being able to work in the middle of the night, those are a lot of the reasons I started my own business.”
She tilts her head to the side, her gaze roaming over my face. “I’ve never thought about it like that, and you aren’t lying about the middle of the night part. The sun was up and I still wanted to throttle you for waking me up.”
I shrug. “I’ve gotten used to annoying people.”
10
Lucy
Rissa pushes the curtain aside to stare after Gideon. “You need to forget all about that asshole Derek and get with the fine ass man right there,” she gushes. “I know, Thanksgiving is in two weeks. Why don’t you invite him over?”
My best friend in the whole world is here. Between helping me unpack, and shop for odds and ends, she’s been dishing out some serious life advice. “First off, I’m not interested in him. Second, even if I was, he has a big family and will probably want to spend Thanksgiving with them. Third, anything between us beyond friends is a big giant nope.”
Dropping the curtain, she twists to face me. “Why the hell not?”
Breaking down the box I just emptied, I set it beside me. “Oh I don’t know, maybe because I’m pregnant with another man’s baby.” I cringe at my own words and cover my face. “Even saying that makes me feel like I belong on one of those daytime talk shows for their promiscuous unwed Mom segment.”
Si
nking gracefully into a cross-legged position beside me, she giggles. “If you’re promiscuous for considering a man, I wonder what I am.”
“I’m not considering him.”
Her gaze shifts to the window. “Why the hell not?”
Shifting onto my back I look up at the ceiling. “He’s not into commitment and I don’t think he’ll be interested in me once he finds out I’m pregnant.”
She lies down as well. “He’s interested, trust me.”
“Well, I’m not. My life is already complicated enough. I don’t need to add him to the mix.”
“I’ll give you your life being complicated but I’m still curious why you think he’s not into commitment?”
“It seems he has quite the ladies’ man reputation in Woodlake. Granted, from what I hear he’s not a one night stand kind of guy, more like a one week or weekend stand guy.”
She sits back up and looks down at me. “His reputation. Lordy, Lulu, don’t you go casting him into one of my romance novels.”
It’s my turn to sit up. “Please don’t. I’m not sure I could handle narrating a Gideon based on him.”
She points at me. “See, you are interested. There’s no point arguing with me.”
Shifting to my feet, I carry the flattened box over to a pile of more flattened boxes. “It’s not like that. Things are so crazy right now. My focus is on my doctor’s appointment and the fact that Derek handled me telling him we’re pregnant by telling me it was my decision to stay here therefore I’m on my own on this.”
She hugs her knees. “I still can’t believe he turned out to be such a gigantic asshole. You need to go after him for child support or something. So what if he doesn’t want to deal with a baby you both created? He doesn’t get to decide that.”
My skin starts to get itchy at the thought. “No, all I want is him to sign away his rights. Screw him. I don’t want him to show up in a couple years suddenly wanting to be a dad.”
Rissa stands, and pushes her long black hair off of her shoulder. “You’re letting him off too easy.”
I shake my head, chilled at the memory of our call and rub at the goosebumps that form on my arms. “No, I don’t want to ever speak to him again.”
My Perfect Fix (The Fix Book 4) Page 9