A few seconds go by without an answer. I glance around, trying to decide if I should just move on with my day. I don’t even know why I’m here. If she opens the door right now, I have no clue what will come out of my mouth. I’d like to saywhat the fuck were you thinking, painting the house pink, but I can’t do that.
Then a crash sounds inside, and I don’t even think. I open the door, stepping through the foyer to find out what just happened. I’ll add leaving her door unlocked to my list of grievances.
“Shit. Crap. This is not good.”
The muffled words come from the back of the house, so I head straight there. The sight I walk in on leaves me speechless.
Until I’m suddenly not. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Farrah gasps, her arms windmilling before she catches herself against the wall. The ladder she’s standing on is leaning sideways against her kitchen cabinets, while she’s precariously balanced over the edge of it.
Yellow paint is splashed across the floor, and a paintbrush is next to the puddle.
“You scared the shit out of me,” Farrah grumbles.
I step around the paint on the floor and reach out to grab her around the waist. A part of my brain registers that my fingers almost touch, and I can feel her ribs without having to squeeze.
Oh, holy fuck. I’m touching her bare skin. She’s got overalls and a tight, cropped T-shirt on. What kind of idiot wears scraps of fabric to work in?
“What are you doing?” she squeals. “Put me down.”
“I’m saving you from breaking your neck, Princess. Would you like me to drop you into the paint or take you across the kitchen where it’s safe?” I look at her and realize my mistake immediately.
Farrah’s nose is inches from mine. Her brown eyes are spitting anger, and her full mouth is curled up in a sneer.
Fuck, she’s pretty.
I shake that thought away and move to set her down in the paint.
“Wait.” Farrah grips my arms as if that’s going to keep me from moving. It does, but only because I’m not that big of an asshole. Her tiny hands don’t fit all the way around me. I hate that I’m noticing our size difference right now. I make a lot of people seem small when I stand next to them, but Farrah is like a pixie in comparison.
“Put me down by the sink.”
I follow her directions, gently placing her on her feet. She looks up at me, her head barely coming to my chest. I’m stuck in her dark brown gaze. It makes me think of fresh-tilled earth and the smell of summer on the wind.
I suddenly feel like a monster hovering over her, even if I take a sick amount of pleasure in knowing she’s not afraid of me.
A meow echoes in the room, breaking the spell. A ginormous grey cat comes sauntering into the room. It weaves its body around my legs, and I bend over to give it a couple of scratches on its head. My gaze snags on the wonky ladder again.
I straighten to look at Farrah, only to find her watching me with a curious gaze. It makes something in my stomach flip and immediately pisses me off. “What the fuck were you thinking, getting on a ladder like that by yourself?”
Her glare comes back in full force. “Oh, I don’t know. I was definitely hoping my ladder would break and I would come crashing down on my head. It was the top thing on my to-do list today.” Her snark makes me grit my teeth. Mostly because I have a weird compulsion to laugh.
“Buy a better ladder next time.” I don’t know why I say that. It’s like the equivalent of saying,I know you are, but what am I?
Farrah scoffs. “Sure thing. I’ll go use all the extra money I have and buy the most expensive ladder I can find. Oh, wait! I did buy a brand-new ladder. It still broke.”
Her words filter through my annoyance, and I finally look at the ladder in question. The metal is still shiny, except for the yellow paint splattered on its legs. That’s when I see the pin that should hold the ladder in place when raised is also on the floor.
Now the lopsided ladder makes sense.
I sigh, running my hands through my hair. “I’ll return it and make sure you get a full refund.”
“What?”
I look back over at her. “I’ll return the ladder for you. I know the guys at the hardware store. They’ve got fragile egos and would never believe it broke. They’ll think you did something wrong.”
“But I?—”
