AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I didn’t need the lecture from a man I had met only hours before.
“I have survived pretty well until now. Plus, any intruder would have to get through the door downstairs before getting up here. I have cameras, and no one knows where I live apart from Steph and Elliott.”
“Seriously?” He said with disbelief.
“Yeah, I deal with less than desirable types. Want no one to know where I live. I know how to kick a man’s arse if I have to defend myself.”
“Why do you have to deal with less than desirable people? Are you into illegal stuff, because if you are, then I can find another flat to live in.”
He looked to the interior door down to the shop for a moment. I didn’t want him to bolt out of here.
“Don’t be ridiculous, nothing illegal, but I broker deals on behalf of my clients. While they are not all legit, my business is. I find rare magazines and comics for my clients.”
He’s still standing in my doorway, holding the bags, eyeing me with interest. I had no idea what he thought I did for a living but this was not it.
“That’s cool. It explains the shop but not why it’s empty.”
He shifted past me into the corridor of my flat enough for me to close and bolt the door. Once he was satisfied the door is secure, he marches towards my kitchen. I follow, checking out his physique. I’m tall for a woman, but he still has six inches on me. The familiarity is still there, the smile I’m wearing is not just because he has a fine arse. I like him. I like him being bossy and protective. It’s a strange feeling for a stranger to care.
Callum placed the shopping bags on the kitchen counter, making sure they didn't spill over onto the floor. He caught a runaway tomato just in time. He grinned as he saw my curiosity at the bags.
“Let me look at that eye,” he said cupping my cheeks. He examined the eyelid and nodded. “It shouldn’t bruise.”
Unloading the contents, one by one, my eyes widened. When the herb plant came out, I was convinced these bags belonged to Mary Poppins. The appearance of fresh ingredients told me he knew how to cook. My stomach rumbled in appreciation.
“I’m going to take a shower. Your flat is as tidy as I could make it for now. The paint is out on the veranda, and I can make a start tomorrow.”
Barging past me in the kitchen, he exited through the French doors and out of sight. It didn’t take long for him to reappear.
“You didn’t have to do all of that, me and Scottie could have made a start on that tomorrow. Don’t do anymore, I’ll take care of it,” he ordered.
He stood in the entrance way where my French windows were open with his hands on his narrow hips. His foot tapped waiting for me to answer.
“What did you expect me to do?” I said. “I would not let you rent the flat as it was. All I did was throw out the old stuff. It’s no big deal, look over there.” I pointed to the wall. He turned and took a quick look at the skip to see that it was filling up with broken furniture.
“You did that this afternoon?”
“I don't know why you're so grumpy,” I said. “It's not like I haven't had to do that before with previous tenants. It's just the last one was a complete arsehole.”
“All the more reason to keep your doors locked. What did the scumbag do?”
“He was an arrogant bastard who ran out on me without paying the rent. Anything else you'd like to know?”
If he heard the sarcasm, he didn’t react to it. To my surprise, my answers flowed as he asked the questions. At this early stage, I would normally have told a tenant to go fuck himself after the second question. He was leaning against the wall with his hip, his arms folded across his broad chest. I mirrored his stance, concentrating on his mouth. His face was turned to the skip so I couldn’t quite see his lips.
“I’d like to know his name, so I can track him down and give him a few choice words.” He repeated when he stopped looking at my yard.
“Well, that will not happen, it's not your problem to solve. It's my problem to solve. I've thrown out all Jeff’s stuff. It's by the side of the skip he's got until the end of the week to come and get it otherwise just going in the skip. I haven't seen him in a few months, he doesn't answer phone calls, and I don't care anymore.”
“Will you let me know if and when Jeff comes back? I might have a few words.”
Damn, I’d already told him his first name.
“It’s unlikely, I can take care of it without a knight in shining armour coming to my rescue.”
“I like the thought of being your knight in shining armour,” he said. I wasn’t supposed to hear, and I didn’t, but I read his lips.
He wandered off into the kitchen and left me gazing at the skip for a few more minutes. Jeff charmed me with his humour when we met in The Nelson pub. He bought drinks and moved in the next day. For a year, everything was fine. He was a party animal, dragging me along with him on many weekends. We’d stagger home in the dawn light, oblivious to the stares from the commuters on their way to work. Then, six months ago he stepped up his high from alcohol to drugs which brought a whole new set of people to party with. A set of people I didn’t like or trust. I made excuses for not going out, telling him I had to hunt down leads for my latest customer. He promised me better customers in the exclusive clubs he went to, but I wasn’t interested. I’d see a glimpse of his back as he slipped into his flat once in a while after I declined his offer. Three months ago, I stopped seeing him altogether. By the looks of his flat, he must have sold everything he owned and the rest he destroyed, or someone else did. The relief of finding his flat empty sagged my shoulders. It was only after a day I wondered if he was ok and not face down in his own vomit. I assumed that if any harm had come to him, I would see the police at my door.
