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His shoulders drop. “Yeah.”
“I’m not going to have sex with you.”
There’s a tiny catch of his breath when I say the word “sex,” but Des hides it with a nod. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“While we’re confessing our darkest sins, I might as well tell you mine. I don’t have enough money for rent next month. I’m going to be late. I’ll pay the barbershop rent, but I can’t make the rent on the apartment. I’ll get you your money eventually, but I might be a couple of days late. I would…appreciate it if you gave me some grace.”
His eyes are unreadable as they search mine, inky pools in the darkness of the night. He says nothing, but I sense anger from him. I see it in the sudden tension of his shoulders and the clench of his jaw.
After all that—his big song and dance about thinking I’m the hottest thing since a country bonfire—he’s still angry he’s not going to get his money. Figures.
I try to brush it off, but the realization that I’m just a dollar sign to him hurts more than I’d like to admit.
With nothing else to say, and a desperate need to get away, I unlock my car and slip inside. I feel his eyes on me the whole way out of the parking lot, and I don’t take a full breath until I’m safely behind my own apartment door.
What a freaking disaster.
The disaster continues an hour later, after I’ve ordered way too much Chinese food and I hear a knock on the door. Thinking it’s my food, I open the door without checking the peephole.
Desmond is standing on my welcome mat, holding my bag of takeout. “I ran into the delivery guy in the lobby,” he explains.
“Oh. How much do I owe you?” I grab the bag from him and peek at the foil and cardboard containers inside. They gave me three sets of plastic utensils, which is hilarious.
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I squint at him, not understanding.
“Can I come in?”
Hmm, let me think about that. Having the guy who lied to me, led me on, then gave me the kiss of a lifetime after revealing his secret identity enter my home while I’m here alone. How about: “No.”
Des nods, like he was expecting it. “I have a proposition for you.”
Shock rips through me, quickly followed by outrage. “Aproposition?”
“Not that,” Desmond hurries to say. “It’s something else. Look, I know I raised your rent pretty steeply.”
“Pretty steeply?” I arch a brow. “Try exorbitantly.”
His jaw tightens. “Do you remember the old property manager my grandparents used?”
“How could I forget,” I deadpan. “He was the worst.”
“He stole tens of thousands of dollars from my grandparents.”
I blink. “Oh. I had no idea.”
“No one knows. Even my grandparents don’t know the extent of it. He pocketed all the money for maintenance, took an extra-large cut of commission, and screwed so many tenants out of their damage deposit. He took almost all the profits from the Airbnb he convinced them to run. He was pond scum.”
Understanding dawns. “You’re cleaning up the mess.”
“On paper, raising your rent made sense. The new rate is in line with the market, and you hadn’t had a rent increase since you moved in. We needed cash to get the two condos ready for sale, and the plan was to raise the rents to market value on the two commercial properties, sell this place”—he waves a hand to the apartment behind me—“and try to get the books back in order.”
I chew my lip. I should have known something was going on with the old property manager. And as much as I hate to admit it, I know I was getting an amazing deal on my rent. Maude and Arthur have been charging me a decade-old rate for the barbershop, and nothing at all for the two-bedroom apartment out back. The rent increase is a shock, and I can’t exactly afford it, but it’s not that bad for Heart’s Cove. With all the increased tourism, the town’s been getting more and more expensive these past few years.
“I should have talked to you first,” Desmond says. “But I walked into your barbershop, and…” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Look. I want to make it right. I need a favor, and in exchange, we can talk about a rent discount.”
My eyes narrow. “What kind of favor?”
