Shoot, I forgot he was there.
I force a smile. “Nothing. Thank you so much for bringing this down to me… Uh…”
“Xander Savage.”
Of course, even his name is hot.
“Right. Thank you, Xander. I’m Quinn. Quinn Summers. You probably already knew that, though.”
He narrows his gaze slightly, his jaw twitching again. “Of course it is.”
Xander shakes his head, scowling as he turns to leave. My heart starts to race as I stare at his broad, muscled back.
“Wait!” I say louder than I intend. “Wait. Please, let me feed you to say thank you. Are you hungry? I just made dinner.”
What the hell am I doing? I made noodles, for fuck’s sake. They are barely even a step up from ramen. Well, that’s not true. I can make anything taste delicious. Spices are a poor girl’s best friend.
Xander stops and turns to look at me again, his stony eyes moving over me from head to toe. Suddenly, I wish I had something more on than a tiny pair of shorts and a loose crop top. Is he getting grossed out by my thighs? Meanwhile, I’m practically panting like a dog in heat while I gaze at him.
Rather than letting him turn me down, like he should, I pad over to him and grab his arm, then tug him inside. He didn’t have to bring me my check. He could have thrown it away. But he took the time to come here personally. The least I can do is cook for him.
Or I could just say thank you and let him leave.
Instead, I close the door, shutting us both in my apartment together… alone.
CHAPTER 3
Xander
A RAY OF FUCKING SUNSHINE
Earlier…
Light filtersthrough the bedroom windows, but it’s fading as I open my eyes. My gaze lands on my nightstand, where my phone rests. After reaching for it, I check the time. Damn, almost four in the afternoon. I slept all day, but I still feel like shit.
I scan my messages, seeing that Shirley texted me at seven this morning to tell me her daughter was in labor and that she’d be off for the next week. It’s not a total surprise since we discussed her taking time off when she told me about being an expectant grandma. At least she’s prepared me a bunch of meals and stuck them in the freezer so I won’t starve to death while she’s away. Apparently, she thinks I can’t fend for myself. I can make toast. I would need her to tell me where the bread and butter are. And the toaster. I can handle finding a knife. Though I’m not sure if I’m supposed to use a certain one for toast. Eh. Fuck it. I can order takeout. I’ll be fine.
One thing I do need is some fucking aspirin. I push myself up and get out of bed, then trudge to the bathroom. Is it too soon to start drinking?
When I locate an unopened bottle of pain reliever, I swallow it dry, then turn on the shower and start to strip. This will bring me back to life. Then food. Then a drink and work.
As soon as I step under the hot spray, my muscles slowly begin to relax. I let my head fall forward, stretching my neck as far as I can. It feels amazing, and by the time I step out and wrap a towel around my waist, I’m halfway human again.
I spend the next few minutes in front of the steamed-up mirror, trimming my beard, glaring at the few silver hairs starting to appear at my temples.
Fuck.
Cash will have a fucking field day if he notices me getting gray before him. He keeps making comments about his wife keeping him young. Probably by dyeing his hair for him. Asshole.
Once I slick my hair back, I dress in a pair of clean slacks, a fresh dark gray button-down shirt, and a pair of shiny Italian dress shoes. Then, I take a minute to pick out a watch from my collection before I head toward the kitchen to find something to heat up. Eating will help. As I pass one of the gleaming black counters, I notice the check I left for Shirley to take to the right apartment. Shit. She won’t be here for a week or so.
I can drop it off at the front desk when I leave for work. They’ll get it to the right box. It’s been on the foyer table for days already. What’s a few more?
Except it’s a check. And it was supposed to be delivered to the fourth floor. This money might be urgent for whoever is supposed to receive it.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
With the paper in my hand, I stride out of my apartment to the general elevator and jab the button, irritation prickling at the back of my neck. I never should have insisted that Shirley take a full week off for the arrival of her new grandchild. Then she’d behere and could deal with this. The last thing I want right now is to deal with anyone. I’m already in a foul mood, and after Cash’s visit this morning, I don’t want to have to talk to people.
