My breath caught as I stared into his hazel eyes. I could smell the mint on his breath as though he'd just finished brushing his teeth. His lips looked soft next to the scruff on his face.
"I don't think I can move. Why don't you try again tomorrow?"
I closed my eyes, and lay there, appreciating his scent and his weight leaning on my bed. I was afraid if I opened my eyes, I was going to lean forward and plant a kiss on those lips.
My bed shifted as he stood back up.
I kept my eyes closed.
"Well, I, for one, couldn't live with myself if you got murdered in your sleep."
"I appreciate that, Barty."
Something hard latched around my hips, and I yelped as he jerked me off the bed.
"What are—"
Bane spun me around and dipped down, wrapping an arm around my legs and tossing me over his shoulder.
"This is not funny, Bert."
"Do you hear me laughing?"
I pressed my hands into his back, trying to gain some leverage to push myself back up. I smacked the back of his head. He reached up and pinched my butt, then carried me out of the room and across the house.
Hard shoulders are not comfortable. I'd never known how uncomfortable they could be. In all the movies (and romance novels I'd recently read), it always sounded romantic when the heroine was swept off by the hero over his shoulder.
The movies lied. Bane's shoulder bone dug into my hip bones, and any time I smacked his back, he pinched me.
Finally, he tossed me onto something soft—the master suite's bed.
I jumped up, standing in the middle of the bed. "What are you doing?"
He placed a hand on his hip. "Protecting you."
"You can't go around carrying people! And—and—and pinching them!"
The corner of his mouth twitched. It was too much. The last of my resolve went out the window.
I picked up a pillow and smacked him in the face with it.
"Nola," his serious voice barked.
I smacked him again. "I wasn't going to be murdered in my bed, you overbearing oaf."
"Nola!"
I smacked him in the stomach. He probably didn't even feel it with those abs. "I'm not a child!"
"Well, you're sure acting like one!"
As fast as a snake, he struck out, sweeping my legs out from under me. I landed on my back on the bed as he wrenched the pillow from my hands.
He pointed a finger at me. "We are going to talk about this tomorrow. After you've had some sleep and some time to think about it."
"Where are you going to sleep?"
He shrugged. "On the floor."
He headed to the bedroom door, shutting and locking it before he disappeared into the master bathroom.
I lay there, staring at the bathroom door, breathing heavily. One would have thought I was the one who carried him all the way across the house, not vice versa.
"Oh, by the way, all your laundry is in the laundry room still," Bane's voice called through the wood. "You should probably think about folding it sometime."
"Go eat lemon."
"Nah, thanks, I got my fill of that tonight already."
I groaned in frustration. How could someone that attractive be so frustrating one moment and so kissable the next?
One moment, I was telling myself that I should ruin things by kissing his nice lips, then the next, I was hoping I could smother him with a pillow.
A couple of minutes later, he stepped out of the bathroom and stood there staring at me. He still wore the charcoal sweats, but his shirt was gone.
The scenery was improving.
"You're seriously going to sleep on the floor?"
He shrugged. "I don't trust that guy. He's not what he pretends to be. I want you to stay where I can keep you safe."
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. He wasn't necessarily wrong. "Well, you can't sleep on the floor. It just doesn't make sense."
"How so?"
"I remember you saying that you slept on the right side of the bed."
He smirked. "And I remember you saying that you slept in the middle."
"Well, I could get used to the left side. Besides, have you seen this thing? It's giant. I can't even touch the edges when I sprawl across it." I demonstrated by flopping backwards across the bed.
"Fine. You get the left side; I get the right side. Are you a light sleeper?"
"Nope."
"Okay, well, I'll wake you up if Sally decides to murder us in our sleep."
"Actually, you know, if that happens, I think I'd rather keep sleeping."
Bane flipped off the lights and came to sit on the bed next to me. He grasped my shoulder and pushed me over to my side of the bed.
"You don’t like to snuggle?" I teased.
"Not with you." He fell back against his pillows.
Ouch. Nothing like a leading suggestion only to be shot down. I was glad it was dark, otherwise he would have seen the embarrassment on my face. I wasn't really trying to make a move on him, I simply wanted to break the ice.
Make it less weird that we were lying in bed together.
Make it less weird that he'd carried me through the house.
Less weird that I could feel him breathing next to me.
Well, now he'd made it weird.
I sat up and snagged the extra pillow from behind his head with a jerk. I laid it on the bed between us.
"In case you get any ideas." I flopped onto my side, facing away from him.
"You think a pillow will stop me? And you wonder why I was worried about you sleeping on that end of the house with a strange man," he muttered.
"Oh, shut up."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Homeowners Association Rule #28:
You must keep the HOA up to date with a current list of residents in your home.
It was a long sleepless night with Nola in my bed. She tossed and turned. Still, I’d made the right decision to have her stay with me. That man, Sally...there was something different about him. He was hiding something. The jolly, neighborly routine seemed too forced. With that loud of a voice, I would have recognized him if he’d been a fourth-floor dweller. And then there was the fact that his country twang mysteriously disappeared as the evening rolled along. His sharp green eyes didn't miss a thing. It made me automatically suspicious.
I left Nola sleeping in the bed while I made my way into the kitchen and started the coffee. Sunday mornings were my favorite. Lazy days, I tried to do as little work as possible on Sundays. I needed the time to regroup and think about things other than the office. It was also high time to call my parents.
Once the coffee pot finished, I poured myself a mug then headed outside to the patio so I wouldn't risk waking anyone up.
I sat down in the hammock and pulled out my phone, dialing my mom.
"Hello, sweetie!"
"Hey mom, how are you?"
"We're doing great! How are you, baby? I've been so worried about you. Have you been taking your vitamins? Have you been sleeping okay? What about the office? You're not overworking yourself, are you?"
I smiled as she listed her questions. No conversation with my mother could happen without her worrying about me.
"Everything's great mom. Work is taking off, and I feel like I'm starting to hit my stride in the office."
The grass was still crisp from the early morning cold. Oregon summer mornings were deceivingly brisk. It would easily be in the eighties or nineties later that day, but at the moment, it felt like a cold fall morning. Goosebumps lined my arms, making me wish I'd grabbed a sweatshirt before I came outside.
"Are you going to be able to go on the cruise with us?" Mom asked, hopefully.
Mom’s excitement at a new adventure was always contagious. It was something I loved as a child. But the excitement ran out when the bill for the fun came due. Some things never changed. Mom and Dad were already in debt as high as they could go. Unless they won that cruise in a sweepstakes, they were onl
y going to be adding more stress to their lives.
I held off on answering a beat too long.
"Oh, I see." My mom sighed.
"I'd like to, Mom, I really would, but I've just got a lot going on here. Otherwise, I'd like to go on the cruise with you. How are you and Dad doing?"
"We're doing great, honey. We're hoping to spend more time with you. Dad bought an RV last week so we can drive down there and visit you way more often."
My groan sounded more like a whimper. "A brand-new RV?"
"Yes..."
The back door opened, and Sally stepped onto the deck with a cup of coffee in his hand.
"Hey, I’ve got to go," I told Mom.
"Okay, dear. I love you."
"Love you too." I ended the call and looked at Sally.
"Your girlfriend?" His expression was hard when he gestured to my phone.
I shook my head. "Mom."
He nodded once.
"Can we be honest with each other?" I asked.
He jerked his chin once. I was taking it as assent.
"You're not Nola's neighbor. I don't know what hold you have over her; but leave her alone. You don't have to lie to me. We're all in this mess together now, but I can make your life a living hell if you're planning on hurting Nola in any way."
Sally sat there unmoving. Unblinking.
Finally, he tapped a hand against the arm of the chair he sat in. "Fair enough."
"So who are you, really?"
The silence stretched. I could practically hear the dew melting as the morning sun grew warmer as Sally sat there studying the cement stamped pattern on the patio.
"I'm Sebastian Mercier—"
I leaned forward, pushing the hammock back. "What?"
"—partner," he finished.
"What did you say?"
"I’m Sebastian Mercier’s partner."
I couldn’t have heard that correctly. "You’re Sebastian Mercier’s partner?"
"Yes," he drawled.
I swallowed the softball-sized lump in my throat. This was it. This was the end of my career. This was the end of living in this house. This was the end of Nola and me—not that we’d really ever gotten started.
There was a sparkle in Sally’s eye. "You’re looking a little green, Bane."
"Why are you here at this house?"
"The owner is a friend."
"And has Mercier decided if he’s going to rethink his luxury apartments?"
Sally shook his head. "I’m here to look into some things. We kept getting emails from a Bartholomew Fox."
He raised his eyebrows at me.
"I never heard back from the office. I assumed they weren’t willing to look into it."
"Well, here I am. You got our attention."
Nola stepped outside, still wearing the baggy sweatshirt and shorts from the night before. The sweatshirt hid the shorts from view. Her hands wrapped around a pink mug as she eyed the two of us warily.
"You don’t have to pretend I’m your neighbor anymore. Bane got the truth out of me." Nola’s eyes widened comically before Sally continued. "I explained about me being Sebastian Mercier’s partner, and that we have a mutual friend."
"So that's what brought you here?"
Sally nodded at her, then continued. "Of course, we also kept getting long, scathing emails from Nola."
"I like to do my part." Nola waggled her eyebrows at him. "I’m assuming you explained everything to him?"
Sally frowned at her. "I was trying to, but I seem to be the only one here who doesn’t know what’s going on. Now why don’t you tell me about the eviction. I’d like to know everything I can before I go speak with Chippy."
Nola spoke first. "There’s not much to tell. We all received the eviction notice on the same day. Since it was a condemnation notice, we were expected to leave right away. Chippy already had all of his boxes packed. I ended up staying there until the demo crew came. Your real estate agent was there overseeing things with Chippy."
"You mean Sterling?" I asked, glancing between Nola and Sally.
Nola waved a hand at me. "That man from the grocery store."
"We don’t have a realtor," Sally cut in.
"Well he was there at the site and later told Bane and me that he was working for Mercier."
I swung the hammock back and forth. "Sterling is notorious for lying to build a better reputation. He could simply be telling everyone that so that he’ll feel important."
Sally nodded. "I’ll start looking into it today. Do you have his contact information?"
I nodded. "I’ll give it to you after breakfast."
The next few days, the three of us settled into some sort of routine. I still didn’t trust Sally, but he was an interesting man to talk with. I still wasn’t sure I trusted him completely.
But I didn’t have too much time to dwell on it. He spent his days hunting up leads on the missing deposits, while Nola and I spent our days at work. We were all getting home at different times at night, and I was busy dealing with HOA problems.
Nola was still sleeping in my room every night. I didn’t like the idea of her being unprotected in the house. Too bad having her close was killing me right now. I wanted to pursue a relationship with her, but the timing didn’t seem right.
Ever since we kissed at our barbecue, it had felt as though the internal barrier between us was high. How did I break them down—especially now that we had a new roommate to complicate matters?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Homeowners Association Rule #81:
Quiet hours between 9pm and 7am.
CRASH.
I sat up in bed with a scream in my throat. A hand slapped over my mouth.
Murdered in my bed. I had always wanted to go more peacefully. Like maybe an angel would come down and personally deliver me to heaven. Being murdered sounded so abrupt—and painful.
"Shh, Nola, it's me." Bane.
The hand moved away from my mouth. I latched onto his arm. "What was that sound?"
"I think someone's out there. I'm going to go check." He squeezed my hand gently, then pulled away.
"Are you crazy? You could get killed! Why don't you call Harold?"
"How much good do you really think he would be? Besides, I already sent him a text. That was the second sound I heard."
I sighed. "We might as well call the police while we hide in the closet."
CRUNCH.
"No time. Get under the bed." Bane shoved me off the bed, and I landed on the carpeted floor with a soft thud.
"Under the bed? That's the first place they'll look!"
Bane ran to the window and pulled down the wrought iron curtain rod. The navy curtain fell to the ground. He rested the curtain rod against his shoulder. "Go lock yourself in the bathroom then. Don't come out until I tell you it's safe."
"Why do I feel like you had a plan in mind for if you heard an intruder?"
He looked away from me and stared at the sliding glass door.
"You have! Do you have a contingency plan for everything? 'Hey, someone's breaking into the house, time to grab the curtain rod.'"
"First of all, you’re horrible at voice imitation. Second, would you rather I wasn’t prepared?"
With a sigh, I picked myself up off the ground and made my way towards the bathroom. "Why don't I just turn the porch lights on and call 911?"
"I want to find out who it is. If they get scared off, we might not catch them. They might come back."
He headed toward the sliding door; his shoulders tensed in the moonlight as he reached for the lock.
"What if they're waiting for you around the corner?"
"It'll be fine." He slid the door open a fraction. "I hope. Now go lock yourself in the bathroom. Now."
He turned to watch until I walked inside the bathroom and closed the door.
All was quiet on the other side, so I waited. Listening. Holding my breath.
No sound. I wasn’t sure if he’d even opened the sliding door yet.<
br />
Him and his curtain rod. As if that was an adequate means of defense. What if there was more than one prowler?
I couldn't take it. Bane was about to be murdered, and I was hiding in the bathroom. He was too good to die. I looked around the bathroom for anything I could use as a weapon. I opened the door to the laundry room and found nothing.
Bane was far more resourceful than me. He’d probably look around the same room and come up with fifteen different weapon options.
Finally, I picked up the most formidable thing I could find.
Next, I unlocked the bathroom door and opened the sliding door as quietly as possible. Bane was only ten feet away, peering around the corner of the house.
I tip toed behind him and rested my hand on his back. He gasped then spun around, curtain rod held high.
Reflexively, I held up my own weapon, ready to block the strike.
"A plunger?" he asked incredulously. "You chose a plunger to defend yourself?"
"We can't all be Captain Bane, okay?" I whispered back.
Something thumped behind Bane. He spun around while simultaneously shoving me behind him.
Thump.
Creak.
Crash.
Bane leapt around the corner. "Stop right there!"
"Put your hands in the air, or I'll shoot!" a high-pitched voice replied.
I ran around the corner, plunger raised, ready to defend Bane, when a big white blur came at me from the corner of my eye.
Before I knew what happened, I was lying on my back in the grass. Something large and furry lay on top of me, licking my face.
"Put your weapon down!" the screechy voice yelled.
"Harold!" Bane yelled. "It's me, Bane Fox!"
Harold.
Apparently he'd decided to answer the call for help. Maybe he was earning that salary of his after all.
"Bane? I don't know a Bane!"
Bane groaned, and I coughed as the big, white dog licked my face again. "Bartholomew Fox!" I yelled.
"Oh! Well, why didn't you say so?" Harold screeched again.
"I did," Bane practically cried. Couldn't say that I blamed him. Harold wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box. The backyard was fairly well lit—he should have clearly recognized Bane on sight. Apparently, he didn’t operate well under stress. "Nola, are you all right?"
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