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I gape at her.
“Well?”
Entitled little shit. I stare down my nose at her, mustering my most arrogant look. “I don’t have time to run around following little girls.”
Her face grows red, her light blue eyes conveying outrage. “I am not a little girl!”
Ignoring her, I walk past her, my gym bag slung over my shoulder.
She trails after me, exclaiming, indignantly, “I’ll have you know that I’m twenty-two years old.”
This comes as a surprise to me, not that I show it on my face. She looks like she’s barely out of her teens!
I make my way to the locker room and turn around to see her standing right there, a scowl on her face.
Annoyed, I slam the door in her face.
I hear her huffing something outside and I feel satisfaction at somehow managing to get the last word.
Stuffing my wallet into the locker along with my shoes, I change into my workout shoes, and step out, only to find that the girl is now using the elliptical. She looks my way and snorts before flipping her short hair over her shoulder.
What a little brat!
Fuming, I step on the treadmill, deliberately putting my back to her. She’s just a rude little runt. I shouldn’t let her get to me like this. Pervert, my ass! Putting on my headphones, I ignore her existence.
Losing myself in my workout, it’s the vibration of my phone which is pressed against my thigh telling me my laundry is done.
Getting up, I turn around and see that I’m alone in the gym once again. The girl is gone.
I grab my stuff and head down to the laundry room. My basket is still on top of the machine and I start taking out the clothes. Hearing the scrape of a shoe behind me, I look over my shoulder and stiffen.
What the hell?
She’s changed out of her workout clothes and is now wearing an oversized soft pink shirt and tiny shorts, leaving nothing to the imagination. Her hair is freshly washed and there are shades of gold in the red, which makes me think it might not be her natural hair color. Her lips are full and pouty, her eyes big on her face.
Some would call her features exotic and her body sexy.
I just call her annoying.
She’s holding an empty laundry basket in her hand and she stares at me, her mouth twisting into a sneer.
Just what is her problem?
I don’t say anything, just turning my back to her and folding the dried clothing, calmly, as if I wasn’t fighting the urge to turn around and pick a fight with this new neighbor of mine who seems to have left her manners in the gutter somewhere.
After a few long seconds, I hear the scraping of her shoe again and then she steps into my peripheral vision, as she moves tight in right next to me and starts empty the washing machine.
I see her sneaking suspicious glances at me, which I do my best to ignore. God knows what she’s cooking in that strange brain of hers.
As I lose myself in the mindless task of folding clothes, I muse that she really is a lovely little thing. Terrible personality, but very attractive.
Before I know it, my hands are empty, and without a second glance at the brat standing next to me, I pick up my basket and leave, determined to avoid her over this weekend.
By Monday, I’m pretty pleased I didn’t manage to run into her even once.
So, when I walk into the office, my jaw drops to the floor, as I see the same red-headed girl sitting in the lobby.
It takes me a moment to register the man sitting next to her and my eyes drift to him as Raymond gets up and greets me with a smile, “Jace. Morning. I’d like you to meet my niece, Halley Cooper.”
