“Please, Sean. Just make it happen. I trust you to do the job right. That’s the only reason I’ve let this project go on as long as it has, but it needs to get done.”
“I know,” I say through my teeth. “I took the week off work to make progress here.” And you threw a sexy wrench in the works with your cousin.
“Great! I really appreciate it. Now get back to work! Ha-ha. Bye!”
I punch the button to end the call and march upstairs, determined to make progress. I start tiling and notice the shower’s off above me. Josie’s singing again, but I can’t make out the tune. She’s probably on all fours, wiping down the floor tile. Hopefully dressed. Of course she’s dressed! I blast my music, tuning her out.
I’m startled later by a tap on my shoulder. I turn, irritated by the interruption, but then Josie beams her sunshine smile at me. I can’t growl at the woman who showed up here looking for safe harbor after some aggressive asshole went after her. Especially knowing Winnie’s fiancé gives her the creeps. I’m all Josie has, and I hate the fact that someone as open and friendly as she is ever felt threatened.
“Finished!” she exclaims. “Do you want to come up and see? I think you’ll like the sparkly results.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” I’ll play guard, keeping watch with my hands to myself. Probably more than normal. I stifle a groan. This is going to be torture.
She steps closer. Tendrils of red hair escaped the knot on top, still damp from her shower dance of cleaning. Naked Josie flashes through my mind, and I focus on her toes peeking out of sandals. Even her toes are cute.
“It’s great,” she says. “Except for the missing sinks, faucets, and counter. Are you sure you don’t want to check my work, boss man?”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
She gestures for me to join her. “Come see.”
“Busy.” I go back to tiling. Josie is off-limits. She wants a guard and that’s all I’ll be.
“What’s your number? I’ll take a few photos and text you. It’ll only take a sec to see.”
She’s so persistent it’s hard not to growl. I turn to her, and she looks back at me expectantly. I guess that’s the kind of persistence you need to keep auditioning in the face of rejection after rejection. I give her my number, even though it feels like another step closer. She’ll probably text me regularly now, and then I’ll have to answer so she doesn’t feel like we’re not friendly roommates. And I didn’t even want a roommate in the first place! And I definitely didn’t want a beautiful sexy naked woman as a friend.
Not naked. Stop. She’s fully dressed, adding me to her phone contacts, but I can see her body in my mind. Even fully dressed she’s a sight. Her full breasts under her green T-shirt with its peekaboo hem that keeps giving me glimpses of her abs. The black yoga pants hugging her curvy hips and toned legs.
She turns and heads upstairs. Sweet curve of her ass.
Dammit.
Chapter Four
Josie
I do believe I’ve proved my worth as a renovation helper. Whatever Sean’s working on, I’m right there to hand him a tool, a tile, or a drink of water. I tried adding compound to the tile ahead of time for him to set it in place, but that didn’t go over well at all. Apparently, the compound goes on the wall, not the tile, and only he can touch that stuff. In any case, I’ve made a thorough study of him at work. Who knows, maybe I’ll play a construction worker one day in a movie.
We’re in the third-floor bathroom, as usual. Actually, I’m standing outside it on his orders while he does the floor. Okay, I may have exaggerated a teensy bit on Sean accepting me as his helper. I get the feeling he barely tolerates me sometimes, even though I’ve made myself indispensable all week. Like right now, I have a glass of water for him in one hand and a handful of plastic spacers in the other, which I hand him when he needs one. On top of my usefulness in the renovation, I set a place for dinner for him every night and serve up the takeout I order for us, so he can sit down to a nice dinner with me. We eat at the kitchen island, sitting on two wooden stools. I clean up afterward too. Anything to lighten his load.
It’s now Thursday and, despite all the great progress we’ve made in this bathroom, he’s even more grumpy and tense than ever. He only answers my attempts at conversation with a single curt word. Sometimes just a monosyllable. It almost takes away from his sweaty muscled gorgeousness. Almost.
I watch as he carries a large tile to the edge of the room. He oozes raw masculine power in his sweat-dampened black T-shirt, jeans, and work boots. His dark brown hair is sexily tousled from where he shoved his hand through it. And he has the most gorgeous piercing blue eyes, scruffy square jaw, and strong corded neck. I’ve studied his neck from all angles, and there’s something so masculine and sexy about it. So, yeah, I’ve done my fair share of ogling in the name of unrequited lust. It’s kinda fun when I don’t have to worry he’ll reciprocate. If he was actually interested in me, he’d at least smile once in a while. Besides, Winnie would not appreciate me going for her ex. It’s, like, there’s a million guys in the world and you have to choose my ex? Awkward, tense, maybe a little jealousy stabbing through. I’ve imagined the whole scenario and concluded, all things considered, he’s my fantasy man.
“How did you and Winnie meet?” I ask.
“Fundraiser.” Single curt word.
Still, I’m intrigued. “Let me guess, she won you in a bachelor auction and brought you home.”
His brows lift, but he keeps his eyes on his work. “No.” Monosyllable.
“C’mon, that’s a great how-we-met story.”
He keeps tiling.
Not even a monosyllable this time, and I’m dying to know. “Okay, I’ll bite. What was the fundraiser for? How did you connect?”
He doesn’t bother to look up. “Why does it matter?”
“I’m curious. You just seem like an unusual pairing. She’s so cultured and sophisticated—”
“And I’m not,” he says flatly.
“You’re grounded and practical.”
He doesn’t disagree, just walks out to get another large tile. The moment he gets back, I follow up. “Was it a fundraiser for the art gallery?”
He heaves a manly sigh. “It was a fundraiser for Habitat for Humanity. I’ve been helping them build houses for years, and the director asked if I could help with fundraising. So I did. I met her at a restaurant fundraiser here in Park Slope.”
“What’s a restaurant fundraiser?”
“The restaurant owner agrees to host a dinner on what’s normally a slow night. I draw in customers, and a portion of the night’s profits go to Habitat for Humanity. It works really well. People like to get out for a good cause, and the restaurant owner appreciates a full house on a slow night. It’s good for follow-on business for the restaurant too. I’ve done a bunch of them.”
“So Winnie was in the neighborhood and decided to show up?”
He starts tiling again. “Yup.”
I smile a little, imagining how it went down. “You were probably dressed up, smiling your most charming smile, wowing her with your gentleman manners, and she was overcome.”
He barks out a laugh. Score! My first laugh from him. His blue eyes sparkle as he lifts his head. “Ya nailed it. She said I was a charming gentleman. Maybe I liked playing the part.”
“But it’s not who you are, deep down, which is ultimately why you broke up.”
He stops smiling. “We broke up because she walked out the door to live with another guy.”
I suck in air. “She cheated on you.”
His expression closes, his voice even. “She said it was an affair of the heart, not the body.”
“Same difference! Oh, Sean, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”
He goes back to work. “I don’t wanna talk about her.”
I’m actually really surprised Winnie would do that. She’s a genuinely sweet person. Colin must’ve swept her off her feet. Love works in mysterious ways, I guess. Has
n’t happened for me yet, but I’m young, so there’s plenty of time. Plus, I was born on Valentine’s Day, which means I was made for something dazzlingly romantic one day. Pretty sure.
I take in the tense set of his jaw. Now I feel bad for bringing up a sore subject with Winnie. I keep quiet, watching him work. It’s pretty amazing the way he perfectly places everything. It would be easy to make a mess of it. He has to cut a lot of tile just right to fit this space.
I cheer when he sets the last corner tile. “Ta-dah! Floor is done!”
He looks over his shoulder at me from the floor. “No.” Crap. Back to monosyllables.
“What do you still have to do?”
He gets to his feet. “Grout.” Another monosyllable.
“Then what?” There’s no way he can answer that in a monosyllable.
He plants his hands on his hips, arching his back. “Do I really need to run the schedule by ya?”
My skill at drawing out more words is slightly dampened by his grouchiness.
“I’m your renovation helper.”
He looks skeptical like he always does when I say that.
“And I’m looking at this as an acting intensive for the character of uber-skilled construction worker.”
He turns away to open the window, but not before I catch the tiniest lift of his lips. He likes that I complimented him. I always zero in on micro-expressions, the tiniest change that could indicate an emotion. All part of my acting toolbox. The close-up captures just those kinds of nuanced expressions.
“Well?” I ask in a teasing voice. “What’s next, boss man?” I noticed he talks more when I call him that.
He exhales sharply. “After the grout dries, I paint the walls, and then I put in the toilet, vanities, lighting fixtures, and towel bars. Then I arrange for the counters to be installed. Two separate vanities in this one.”
“Fantastic! So when do we demo the kitchen?”
He scowls. “We don’t demo. We don’t do anything. I demo this weekend.”
“I can swing a hammer. I saw regular people do it on one of those home renovation shows.”
“Don’t ya have anything better to do than shadow me?” he barks.
I stiffen because he hasn’t barked at me like that since I first surprised him by moving in. He’s been very even-toned, though monosyllabic for the most part. “You know, if I were working on a tight deadline to renovate a house, I’d want all hands on deck. I’m free labor and all you do is grump at me.”
“I’m the free labor. You’re the uninvited couch crasher.”
“I was invited.” I set the spacers and glass of water down in the hallway and walk away. If he’s going to be so ungrateful, then he can forget having me as his renovation helper and all-around useful, friendly roomie. We’ll be like two ships never passing in the night.
“Josie.”
I whirl. He’s standing in the hallway. Not friendly looking, exactly, but definitely not scowling. Maybe he’ll even apologize for barking at me. “Yes?”
“I’m demo’ing the kitchen Saturday morning. Pick a room on the top floor to sleep in tomorrow night.”
His tone is even, like we’re back to being roomies, not irritating people stuck with each other, which is exactly how I’m starting to feel. He’s the irritating one. I’ve never been more helpful in my life.
I salute him jauntily. I don’t want to fight with my irritating roomie/fantasy man/unofficial guard. “Serve up your own dinner tonight. I’m going to the city for my improv class.”
His brows lift. “What time will ya be back?”
“Why? Do I have a curfew?”
“I just don’t wanna be surprised by a bump in the night.”
“Relax. Class ends at eight thirty. I won’t be back that late.”
I head toward the stairs.
His deep voice sounds close behind me, startling me. The man moves like a ninja. “Text me if you want me to meet you at the subway stop and walk you home.”
I turn, surprised at the kind offer. “Thanks, but it’s only a few blocks. I’ve got the fast New Yorker stride down.”
“Where’re ya from?”
It’s the first personal question he’s asked since we met four days ago. Maybe he’s warming up to me. “I grew up all over the world, traveling with my mom’s career. She’s an opera singer. But I went to NYU for college, so I’m used to the mean city streets.” I laugh.
He mutters, “Later,” before heading back to work.
Guess he didn’t warm up that much, but I do appreciate his concern for my safety. He really is an excellent unofficial guard. I’ve slept soundly ever since I got here. There’s something so nice about knowing his big muscled body is right upstairs. For safety reasons.
And a few fantasies.
~ ~ ~
Sean
I’m strangely out of sorts, and I don’t know why. I finished the grout in time to call it quits for a late dinner, so I’m right on the schedule I assigned myself. I should be feeling good, eating leftover Thai food at the kitchen island, and watching the Yankees on my laptop. I’ve accomplished a lot under extremely difficult circumstances. It’s not easy to focus on work while Josie hovers nearby, all sexy good cheer. I scrub a hand over my face. Hell. Do I actually miss her? She’s joined me for dinner every night this week right here at this island, sharing about auditions and all the different kinds of acting classes she’s been to. I didn’t have anything to add, it’s all new to me, but that never seems to bother her. She smiles at me a lot. It makes her blue eyes sparkle, her cheeks pinken, a warm energy radiating out from her, brightening the whole day.
What is wrong with me? I finally get a break from her, and I’m sitting here imagining her smile.
I shake my head at myself and finish up dinner, banishing thoughts of Josie from my mind. After I clear my dish and toss the take-out box, I head to the couch I haven’t gotten to relax on since she moved in. This is my spot. Her pink fleece blanket and pillow are neatly folded on one end. I take a seat on the opposite end and stretch out to watch the game on my laptop.
Time passes slowly, and I realize I’m listening for her. It’s nine fifteen. She said her class ended at eight thirty, so she should be back around nine thirty or ten, depending where her class is in the city. We’re only forty minutes from midtown here.
The Yankees win in extra innings, and she’s still not home. It’s ten thirty. I check my phone. No text from her. She doesn’t text me a lot since she’s always in my face, but every night she texts me that dinner is ready. It’s weirdly domestic, considering she doesn’t cook. All she does is set the takeout on plates for us. It’s really not a big deal.
Where is she? Should I text her?
The last thing I want is to look like I’m worried about her. She said she’s used to the city. Surely she can find her way back to Brooklyn safely. She doesn’t need me going overprotective guard dog on her. That’s the only reason I let her hang around when I work, even though she’s a huge distraction. She just seems more relaxed when she’s near me, and I think it’s because she feels safe.
I set the laptop aside and head out the front door, looking down the street for her. Nothing. Should I take a walk to the subway stop?
Okay, I’m taking a short walk. It doesn’t mean I’m worried. I’m allowed to take a walk if I feel like it. Lots of people walking around here. I keep checking, but none of them are the red-haired beauty I usually ignore.
I go back home after my walk to the subway and settle back on the couch, only this time I can’t relax. It’s well past ten thirty. She should’ve been home by now. I’m going to text her. I set the laptop aside and pull out my phone. Hold up. Do I really want to cross this line? She’ll think I actually thought about her when she wasn’t here. That implies something more than just roommates. Women always read into these things.
I glance at the door. Fuck it.
Thought you’d be home by now. Where are you? I delete that. Too worried sounding.
&nb
sp; Where’s your improv class? Delete. Stalkerish.
Hey, did the subway break down? My finger hovers over the send button. Casual enough? The door opens, and I immediately delete the text.
She steps inside, her color high. She’s in a frilly light purple blouse, tight jeans, and black heels. Her red hair is down, smooth with a slight wave, pink lips, tiny silver hoop earrings, and her blue eyes are lined with dark color that gives them a dramatic striking look. I see her so much in just a casual T-shirt and yoga pants with no makeup I can’t help but notice every detail. She’s casually glamorous, a future movie star that I can’t stop thinking about. “Hello, boss man!”
I fucking love it when she calls me that. I don’t know why. Maybe being second born, being passed over for CEO in favor of my older brother, I was never top dog. And every instinct in me wants to be. Be cool. Distance. “You’re late.”
She sets my laptop on the deep bay window ledge behind the couch and flops down next to me. “We went out for drinks after. Class was so fun. How was your night?”
I sound like an overprotective ass, but I can’t seem to help myself. “I’m tired, and I wanted to go to bed, but I couldn’t relax when you were so much later than you said you’d be.”
Her eyes widen. “You are really harshing my martini mellow. What gives?”
“You said class ends at eight thirty. I thought you’d be home an hour ago.”
She leans her shoulder against me. “Aww, did my guard dog worry?”
“Hell yes, I worried. You have no street smarts, just smiling, open and friendly with everyone, making your way home alone late at night.”
She smiles up at me in her warm sunshiny way, her blue eyes dancing with good humor. “Ridiculous. I think you can go ahead and admit it now. I grew on you. You actually care about me.”
Rogue Gentleman (The Rourkes, Book 8) Page 4