And that was that. They’d been best friends in college, roommates since graduation, and even though she’d been preparing herself for it since Bridget and Max announced their engagement, saying goodbye was proving harder than she’d thought.
She was jerked out of her maudlin thoughts when the phone clicked in her ear. She opened her mouth to speak when she realized an answering machine had picked up.
“It’s Nate, I can’t talk. You know what to do.”
She was caught completely off guard by the beep, and fumbled for words. “Hi. Um…I’m calling about the apartment for rent? I’d really like to come by and see it, maybe this afternoon if possible. You can reach me—”
She broke off with a wince as the machine suddenly screeched in her ear. She heard a clatter, a burst of static, and then as clear as if he were standing beside her, a rough male voice.
“Wait, I’m here.”
“Uh…hi.”
“Yeah?”
Rude, Lily thought, but resolutely plowed ahead. “I’m calling about the apartment.”
“How’d you hear about it?”
“Yes, I’d— What?”
“How did you hear about it?” he asked again, deliberately slowing his words, and she added mentally added obnoxious to her assessment of him.
“You put up a flier in the drugstore,” she retorted, not bothering to keep the chill of annoyance from her voice.
He chuckled, the sound coming over the line to dance along her nerve endings like fingers fluttering down her spine. She squirmed before she could stop herself.
“Right, last night.” His voice took on a hollow quality and she pictured him tucking the phone into his shoulder. “You want the apartment?”
“I—” She floundered for a moment before setting her teeth with a snap. “I’d like to see it first and find out what you want to charge for rent.”
“Sure, we can talk about that,” he said agreeably, and for some reason his easy manner made her want to grind her teeth. “You wanna come by and take a look this afternoon?”
“Yes, I would,” Lily said, her voice going prim as her annoyance escalated. She couldn’t say why, but this guy was getting on her nerves. “Would four thirty be all right?”
“Sure, I’ll be around. Three-fourteen Ivy Lane. If I don’t answer the bell, just go on around the house to the garage. The stairway to the second floor is enclosed, just look for the blue door on the side. Feel free to take a look around. I’ll catch up with you sooner or later.”
“If four thirty isn’t a good time,” Lily began, but he cut her off.
“Four thirty’s fine. You got a name?”
Rude, obnoxious and completely without manners, she decided. “Lily,” she said, forcing her jaw to unclench to form the words. “Lily Michaels.”
“See you at four thirty, Lily Michaels.” And the dial tone sounded in her ear.
“What a jerk,” she muttered.
* * * * *
“What a tight-ass,” Nate MacIntyre said, and grinned at his companion. “Sounded hot though. That slight hint of an English accent. I couldn’t really hear it until she started to get pissed. The accent comes out with the temper.”
Beau rolled his expressive brown eyes and shook his head.
“Yeah, I know I was a little rude. I couldn’t help it, that prim little tone got under my skin. She sounded a lot more interesting once she got mad.” Nate leaned forward, his hands dangling between his spread knees as he spoke. “I bet she’s the corporate type, proper and strict with sensible shoes. But underneath she’s full of surprises, all soft, sweet-smelling skin and naughty lingerie.”
Beau just grunted and rolled over.
“Well, I guess we’ll find out at four thirty.” Nate got to his feet and stretched, feeling loose and rested. He’d finished the last of the carpentry work in the apartment late last night. Riding on the energy of it, he’d grabbed a piece of bright paper left behind by one of his nieces and drawn up a quick flier. He hadn’t expected any calls on it today; after all, he’d only posted the one flier at the first drugstore he’d come across. But if it rented right away, so much the better.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, grimacing at the scratch of rough beard. He tended to let the details like grooming get away from him when he was immersed in a project. A quick glance in the mirror over the den fireplace confirmed that he needed a haircut too; the long strands tickled his collar, or would have if he was wearing a collar. He wondered how the proper-sounding Ms. Michaels would react to five days’ growth of beard and a stained Grateful Dead T-shirt.
Maybe he’d shower and shave before she came, just to be on the safe side. No sense in making a bad impression on purpose. But the last week of eighteen-hour days hadn’t left much time for recreation, and since he had a good hour and a half before he had to play landlord, he wanted a game of Frisbee in the park with his best pal.
“Beau,” he whispered, and watched the big brown eyes roll toward him. “Frisbee?”
Beau’s head snapped up, his wrinkled face creased in a wide grin, and Nate found himself pinned to the wall and his face bathed in kisses.
“Okay, okay!” he laughed, and swiped at his face. “Come on, buddy. Let’s roll.”
* * * * *
At four thirty on the nose, Charles pulled his orange VW Bug to the curb at 314 Ivy Lane, turned off the ignition and looked at the house. “God, it’s so cute!”
Lily was forced to agree. It was gorgeous, a two-story brick colonial with ivy climbing the exterior and cheerful gardens out front. A long driveway snaked past the side of the house, leading, she assumed, to the garage. It was lovely, she realized, and her heart sank.
“It’s gorgeous,” she sighed. “It’s going to be too much rent.”
“Oh, cheer up. Maybe the place is a dump!”
Lily rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Charles, that’s very helpful.”
Charles just grinned and opened his door. “This guy’s meeting us?”
Lily followed suit and stood at the end of the drive. “He said if he didn’t answer the bell to go ahead and take a look.”
Charles arched his neck to peer up the empty driveway. “I don’t see a car, so maybe he’s not home. Want to just go up?”
“Yeah. That way if it’s a dump, I don’t have to talk to the guy. He sounded like a jerk.”
Charles chuckled as he started up the drive with her. “Let me guess, he wasn’t up to your exacting standards of phone etiquette.”
“There’s just no reason to be rude,” she muttered, getting irritated all over again. “He didn’t even say goodbye, he just hung up.”
“Yeah, that’d drive you nuts,” Charles decided as they turned the curve. He stopped short as the building came into view. “I don’t think it’s going to be a dump, sweetie.”
“Probably not,” she agreed, and kissed her hope that this apartment would be at all affordable goodbye.
The garage, if such an elegant old building could be termed such a mundane thing, was built of the same gorgeous brick as the house, and the same ivy climbed the walls. It looked as though it had once been an old carriage house, more at home on some East Coast estate than a small college town in Colorado. The wide bay doors were painted a bright white and covered almost the entire lower front of the building, with small windows across the top. Lily walked up and stood on her toes to peek in, but curtains shielded the view.
She dropped back to her heels and turned to Charles. “You think he actually uses this place as a garage?”
Charles had his hands on his hips, surveying the structure. “Doubt it,” he said absently. He looked up. “Wow, check out those windows.”
Lily tiled her head back and felt her jaw drop. “Wow,” she echoed. Windows took up the entire facing wall of the second floor, sparkling in the late-afternoon sun. “Talk about natural light.”
“No shit.” Charles had walked around the right side of the building. “They wrap all the way around the side.”
“There’s no way I’m going to be able to afford the rent,” Lily muttered, “unless the place is rat infested and drafty.”
“That’s what I love about you, Lil.” Charles wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “You’re such an optimist.”
Lily sighed. “I know, think positive.”
“That’s my girl,” he encouraged. “Where’s the door we’re supposed to look for?”
“He said the blue door around the side,” she said, and together they followed the path around the left side of the building.
“Blue door,” she said, and gave the knob a twist. It opened smoothly under her hand, swinging wide to reveal an enclosed stairwell, with another door on the opposite wall.
“That probably goes to the main space,” Charles decided, giving the door a soft thump. “Second floor, right?”
“That’s what the landlord said,” Lily replied, and started up the stairs with Charles behind her.
“It’ll be a pain in the ass to walk up stairs every day,” Charles commented.
“Yeah, but they’re nice and wide,” Lily countered. “And they look brand new. See the sawdust in the corners?” She pointed. “I think he must have just had the staircase added. The exterior wall is original brick, but the inside wall looks like new drywall.”
She stepped up onto a generous landing awash in light from the wide window set in the brick wall. “Nice wide landing, good light.” She looked at Charles. “The landlord said to just go on in.”
“Then let’s go on in,” he replied, and pushed open the door.
They stood for a moment in the doorway then moved as a unit into the space. The wide, light-filled, high-ceilinged, wood-floored space.
“Well.” Lily looked at Charles. “I’m hoping the landlord is insane.”
Charles didn’t look at her, he was too busy gaping. “Why?”
“Because that is the only way the rent is going to be low enough for me to afford it. And even if I can’t afford it, I may move in anyway.”
“I may move in with you,” Charles answered. “Will you look at this place?”
“I’m looking, I’m looking.”
The apartment was laid out like a loft, living space flowing into dining space, and dining into kitchen. The main living area was long, almost half the length of the building. The wall of windows they’d noticed outside provided ample light and a view of the park across the street. There was a wide ledge under the windows, almost wide enough to do double duty as a window seat, and Lily fairly salivated at the thought.
The room was divided by the kitchen island, a bar-height slab of granite with two high stools tucked under it on the living room side. Lily crossed over to the kitchen side and found more granite, the work surface slightly lower than the counter, with a dishwasher so new it still had plastic wrap on it snug amongst the cabinetry.
“I think these cabinets are cherry,” Charles said, running a hand along the satiny edge of a glass-fronted door. They lined the room, making the most of the space in the small kitchen. More granite stretched beneath them, broken up only by the gas stove with spider burners, the built-in microwave, and the stainless steel side-by-side refrigerator.
“This is unreal,” Charles said, his voice hushed with awe.
“Let’s see the rest of it,” Lily said, and led the way down the short hall.
Moving quickly, as though the apartment might evaporate around her if she didn’t, she pushed open what she assumed to be the bathroom door. She heard Charles whimper in delight as they took in the gleaming black-and-white tiled floor, and the garden tub tucked neatly under a window of glass brick that would let in ample light while still preserving privacy. There was a separate glass-enclosed shower, and when Charles pushed open the door, she wasn’t surprised to see a state-of-the-art shower system, with a rain shower overhead fixture and multiple spray heads coming out of the tiles.
Charles couldn’t even speak, his mouth working as he struggled for words. She left him gaping at the shower and stepped into the bedroom.
Almost as big as the main living room, it stretched the width of the building and had the same multipaned windows with the wide ledge on two sides, and the exposed brick of the exterior wall along the back. She turned to look at the interior wall and found built-in bookshelves lining the wall and a door, that when opened yielded a walk-in closet. A walk-in cedar closet.
“Of course it is,” she sighed.
Charles walked into the closet behind her and stopped dead, his mouth still hanging open. When he finally found his voice, he said, “If you don’t rent this apartment, I’m going to.”
“You own your house, Charles.”
“I’ll sell it,” he said. “This is a great fucking place, Lil. You gotta take it.”
“I know,” she said. “Do you think he’d let me paint in here?”
“You want to paint the brick?” Charles asked, horrified.
“Don’t be daft, that brick is gorgeous. And I wouldn’t want to paint the built-ins, all that wood is just too stunning to cover up. But the interior walls in the living room, and the bathroom.”
“Probably,” Charles mused. “Most places will let you as long as you paint it back when you move out. What are you thinking?”
“Something strong, like red or an apple green. Maybe periwinkle for the bathroom.”
“It’ll look great with the tile,” Charles agreed.
“It really will.” Lily took one last look around before heading for the door. “Let’s go find the landlord.”
Charles trotted after her as she strode through the living room. “Where is he supposed to be?”
“He lives here, I assume, in the front house.” She trotted down the stairs and pushed out the door. Gravel crunched as she hurried along the path as fast as her three-inch heels would let her. She looked over her shoulder and frowned. “Charles, are you coming?” she called.
“Yes, hold your—” He looked past her, and suddenly his eyes went wide and hands fluttered in useless panic. “Look out!”
Lily whipped her head around and barely had time to squeak in surprise before a great furry mass launched itself at her.
She went down in a heap, her head snapping back to collide with the ground. She managed to swallow the instinctive curse as stars exploded across her vision but wasn’t so successful when the furry whatever-it-was landed on her chest.
“Fuck!” exploded out of her with the rest of her breath, and when she managed to focus again, she found herself staring into the soulful brown eyes of a very large dog of indeterminate breeding. He apparently thought she wasn’t moving because she was playing dead, and tried to gain her participation in the game by swiping a giant paw at her head.
“Nice doggy,” she managed, and was rewarded with a delighted yip and a slurping kiss.
“Wow,” Charles said, and she looked up to see him standing over her, hands braced on his knees, staring at her new friend. “That’s a big dog.”
“No kidding,” she muttered, dodging more kisses. She wriggled one of her arms out from where it was pinned against her chest and tried to push the dog’s face away from hers. “Little help here?”
Charles merely grinned at her. “You said fuck.”
“I’ll say it again if you don’t help get this monster off me,” she grunted. “He must weigh a hundred and fifty pounds.”
Charles inclined his head toward the end of the driveway. “I’ll let him help,” he decided, and Lily heard running footsteps.
“Beau! Off!”
She thought the command was firmly given in a deep voice that commanded respect, but it didn’t have any discernable effect on the dog, who just grinned and licked Lily’s face again. Despite her increasing discomfort—the ground was hard, and the dog was no Chihuahua—she felt her lips tug into a reluctant grin. “Obviously you’re a highly trained, intelligent animal,” she told him breathlessly, and could’ve sworn he grinned back at her.
“Sorry, he got away from me
.” Still hidden behind the sheer mass of his pet, all Lily saw was a masculine hand as it hooked into the dog’s collar. She drew in a shaky breath as the weight was lifted off her chest.
“Thanks,” she wheezed, and got a good look at her rescuer.
Holy Mother Mary, she thought, and mentally apologized to her Italian Catholic grandmother for taking the Blessed Mother’s name in vain. But given the circumstances, she thought Gran would understand.
He was scruffy, but she’d expected that. He’d sounded scruffy over the phone. What she didn’t expect was how good scruffy would look.
He was occupied with trying to wrest the dog under control, who apparently thought the scolding he was receiving was part of the game, so Lily got to look her fill.
He was wearing ragged cutoff shorts that should’ve made him look like an extra in an episode of Magnum PI, but instead made his legs look long and strong and yummy. The ratty T-shirt had faded lettering stretching across a firm chest and frayed sleeves showing off very nice arms. Spectacular arms, really, muscles flexing and bulging as he struggled with the dog in a way that made her head go slightly fuzzy. She had a weakness for biceps.
She shook off a little shiver and let her gaze drift up. Dark brown hair with hints of red and gold floated around his shoulders in loose waves that lent a roguish air to the beach-bum attire. The organized, logical part of her mind noted that he needed a trim. Every other part of her sighed in feminine longing at the thought of tangling her fingers in that thick silk.
Her mind held on to that image even as she hurried to take in the rest of him. His jaw was strong and shadowed with several days’ growth of beard, his mouth was firm, his eyes a pale, almost translucent green, and his face would have been almost unbearably pretty if it hadn’t been for the nose. Obviously broken at least once before, it technically should’ve made him look…well, ugly. It didn’t. Instead it gave his pretty face character and charm. And let’s face it, she thought, some serious hubba-hubba.
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