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“Great,” she said, lacing the word with enough sarcasm to kill a small animal.
I smiled anyway. “And thank you, Mr. Stones–er–Mr. Stone. I really appreciate the opportunity, and I promise I won’t let you down.”
He poured himself another glass and held my gaze. His eyes were practically smoldering. Something between the time we’d left his office and now had seriously pissed him off, but I had a feeling it would be a bad idea to pry for information.
“So…” I said. Don’t be nosy. Don’t pry. Just walk out of the room.
I made it a few steps toward the elevator before my curiosity threatened to choke me out if I didn’t at least try. I looked back toward Mr. Stone, who was pouring himself some kind of liquor. “What’s wrong? You look like you just found out your dog chewed the crotch out of your favorite underwear.”
Max and Christian turned slowly to stare at me.
Max shook her head. “Lady, you really have to stop using super personal examples like that. It tells people way more about you then you really want them to know.”
“Nothing is wrong, Miss Thorn. And I’ll kindly remind you that your job here is to tutor and look after my niece while you’re in the office. My well-being is none of your damn business. Now you may go.”
I left the room with my cheeks burning and my ego more than a little bruised. I very much liked to be upbeat, happy, and easy-going. But how the hell was I going to manage that if this was the man I had to work with? And why did he have to be so damn hot, too?
8
LOLA
I took my early release from the Stone Tower as an opportunity to go apartment hunting. Paisley, Cassie, and probably every other person in the building seemed to think I was doomed to be let go. I was choosing to believe I’d not only survive Mr. Stone’s niece; I’d make Max like me and enjoy learning. Maybe I could even manage to squeeze a smile or two out of old Stone Face while I was at it.
Termite plodded along with me while we walked ourselves all over Fairhope for most of the afternoon. There were a few available rentals, but the prices were prohibitively high. I ended up finding an apartment complex on the edge of town as the sun was preparing to set behind the mountains.
I lifted Termite and held her under my arm. “This place looks nice, doesn’t it?”
She sniffed the air a few times, then made a little grunting sound. Unimpressed.
“Well, too bad. It’s probably the only thing we can afford for now.”
I headed inside to a little office area marked “Leasing.” The building smelled vaguely of boiled cabbage and something else I couldn’t put my finger on, but I decided not to focus on that. It would be a roof over my head until I figured something else out. It didn’t need to be perfect.
The man at the leasing desk was actually chewing on a long piece of straw. I stared a few seconds, not sure if I was seeing things. He had on overalls, a checkered flannel shirt, and thick boots that looked brand new. He might’ve been in his late thirties and he had a chubby face with nearly perfect, smooth skin. It wasn’t the face of a farmer, but every other indication said this man had come straight from slinging cow patties–or whatever it was farmers did besides grow food.
“Um, hi,” I said, knocking on the open door as I stepped in with Termite. “I was hoping to find out if you had any available apartments.”
The man narrowed his eyes and pulled the straw out of his mouth, then put it back in with what looked like a practiced gesture. He leaned back, folding his hands over his belly and smirking. “You want an apartment?” he had a southern accent and squeezed about twenty syllables into the four simple words.
I bit my lip, grinning. “Yes, I would.”
He stood, hooking his thumbs in his overalls dramatically. “Welp. S’pose we should show you unit thirteen, shouldn’t we?”
“S’pose we should?” I ventured.
He spit his little piece of straw in the trash and lifted the lid on a glass jar. He pulled a pristine strand of straw from the jar and stuck it in his mouth, gave me a wink, and jerked his head for Termite and I to follow him outside.
I bulged my eyes at Termite once he was gone, trying not to laugh.
We headed up a flight of stairs, passed a few doors, and stopped outside a lime green door that was crusted with a few years’ worth of bugs at the corners.
“I didn’t get your name, by the way. I’m Lola.”
“Rusty,” he drawled.
He tried the key and had to give it a little shake, a push, and then finally a small slam of his shoulder before the door groaned open. A wave of unpleasant odor blasted into us and I couldn’t help coughing and waving at my face. “Jesus. What is that?”
