Disgusted with myself, notjustbecause he was a guy, but alsomuchyounger than me, I shook my head and crossed the room, unplugging the speaker.
The room fell silent, and Tristan stopped singing and dancing, turning to face me.“Oh, hey man.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”I demanded, resting my hands on my hips to stop myself from doing something rash.
Like throttling him.
His gaze dropped to the paint andthento the walls.“Um…painting?”
“I meant with the music. Did I say you could have a fucking party in my house?”
His brows lifted as the cocky smirkthathad aggravated me earlier reappeared on his face.“Dude, chill. I like a bit of music to keep me motivated. Besides, you weren’t home. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”
In four long strides, I was across the room, and if it wasn’t for the tray of paint in his hand, our chests would have been pressed together.“First of all, don’t call me dude. I’m not your friend. Secondly, don’t tell me to chill in my own fucking house,”I hissed, my anger turning nuclear.“And you thought wrong. It is a problem. I don’t want you using my electricity, blasting your shit music through my house. Don’t bring your fucking speaker here from now on.”
A flash of defiance passed through his eyes, and I silently challenged him to talk back. If he had, I would have beenstraight on the phone to the cops, telling them I’d changed my mind and wanted to press charges.
Several strained seconds ticked by when he lowered the paint roller, dropping it into the tray and putting it on the floor.“Right, yeah. Your house, your rules, of course,”he said, way too fucking cheerily for my liking.“Consider the speaker gone.”
His lack of an argument made me deflate a little. I looked away, glancing around the room to see what progress he’d made today. It wasn’t much.
The red spray-painted wordmurdererwas still written on the wall, although he’d coated it with a layer of white paint so it wasn’t quite as visible, the same with the red linethatran the length of one wall.
“Is this all you’ve done today? I expected more.”
He chuckled, and I hatedthatthe deep tone of it hit me straight in the stomach in a way I didn’t want to acknowledge.“I’ve done a bit more than paint two walls. I’ve measured up the three windowsthatwere smashed downstairs and ordered the glass.Thatwill be delivered tomorrow. Your window frames had several cracks in them, so I’ve replaced the wood, ready for the glass to go in. I’ve managed to scrub the paint off most of the kitchen counters, but the cupboard doors will need replacing; they’re practically falling apart. I’ve measured up, but I wanted to check what color and design you wanted before I ordered them.”He pulled his phone out and tapped at the screen.“If you give me your number, I can send you the link to the homeware store, and you can let me know which ones you prefer.”
The smugness in his tone rattled me, and for a second, I could only glare at him. He didn’t back down,justwaited with the smirk on his face as I clenched my teeth together. When myanger subsided enough for me to speak, I reeled my number off, and my phone beeped with an incoming message.
“There. Have a look tonight and let me know in the morning which ones you like, and I’ll get them ordered. They should arrive in time before Christmas.”
Truthfully, I didn’t give a shit what color or style my kitchen cupboards would be, but the agreement I’d made with Rob wasthatany repairs Tristan was to make had to come out of his own back pocket, so damn straight I was going to find the most expensive.
“So, have I done enough to satisfy your expectations?”Tristan said, his tone mocking as he repocketed his phone.
“For today,”I muttered.“Forgive me if I have doubtsthatyou’ll be able to maintain this level of work. After all, you can’t beverygood at your job if you didn’t have any clients lined up for the whole month.”
The dig at his work ethos didn’t land where I wanted it to. Instead, his smirk widened as he shrugged.“Actually, I’m already fully booked for work for the first four months of next year. I work all year round so I can take December off and spend it with my family. You know, getting excited for Christmas, celebrating my sisters’ birthdays. It’s my favorite time of year-”
“Spare me your life story, Bug. I didn’t ask for it, nor do I care for it,”I snapped, instantly regretting the nickname I’d had on repeat in my head all day whenever I thought of him.
His brow quirked. “Bug?”
“Yes, Bug. You annoy me, and quite frankly, I’d like nothing more than to squish you under my thumb,”I growled, my temper fraying with every passing beat of this damn conversation.
He tilted his head to the side, a devious grin spreading across his lips.“Ireallyget under your skin, don’t I?”
Unable to resist, I stepped forward, closing the gap between us nowthathe wasn’t holding the tray. Our chests pressed together, and goosebumps erupted over my skin at how close he was.“Let me make thisveryclear to you. You’renothingto me. The only reason you’re here is because your father begged me to give you a chance. I can change my mind as quickly as this—”I clicked my fingers“—and you’ll be back inthatcell, awaiting a court hearing. Fuck around,Bug, and you’ll find out.”
He didn’t reply,justcontinued grinning at me like a fucking moron. I took a step back, needing to put space between me and the scent of paint and masculine sweat, my fists clenching with the need to pummel something.“Now, by my watch, you’ve still got another thirty minutes to go until you’re done for the day. So stop prancing around like you’re in a nightclub, and get on with some work.”
I spun, storming out of my bedroom and resisting the urge to go back in there and smack the little shit in the face when his deep chuckle filtered from the room.
Tristan
Bella’s face filled the screen of my phone as I recalled what had happened the night I was arrested. Her eyes grew wider, her jaw falling open when I reached the part about my dad making an agreement with McScroodge to let me off the hook in exchange for me fixing his place up.
I didn’t tell her that the cost of repairs were coming out of my pocket; she felt guilty enough as it was.
