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I push off the wall and tap her door with my knuckle. “Get settled. I work tonight, but if you need anything, call or come down. The kitchen, both here and in the bar, is open if you’re hungry.”
“I need to run more errands, and then I’ll be back.”
“Sounds good.”
“I might come keep you company tonight.”
“I have no problem with that.”
Sierra doesn’t show during my shift, and when I go upstairs after closing, her bedroom door is open. She’s lying horizontally on the bed, sleeping, and the TV is on. I hesitate, unsure if I should wake her. I don’t. Instead, I snag the blanket off the couch and drape it over her.
9
Sierra
“I hopeyou don’t mind. I’m a stress-cleaner.”
That’s what I tell Maliki when he strolls into the kitchen to find me scrubbing the counters. I’ve already organized the closet and cleaned the guest bedroom and bathroom, and I’m finishing the kitchen. If he hadn’t been sleeping, I’d have already dragged the vacuum out.
Stress-cleaning is a gift passed down from my mother. She cleaned when she was worried—a constant occurrence—and my brothers would hardly pick up their dirty laundry, so I helped. Now, I get the same relief from a deep scrubbing.
I glance at the time. It’s one in the afternoon, and Maliki is just waking up. That’s not a shocker though, given his job requires him to stay up all night.
I drink in the sight of him standing in front of me, shirtless. He’s wearing gray sweatshorts that hang low on his waist. His hair is a wild mess, and his eyes are still half-asleep.
“You’ll get no complaints from me,” he says.
“Although I’m disappointed there wasn’t much to clean. I’ve never seen a guy’s house so spotless.”
He drags out a stool from under the island and sits. “One of the waitresses likes the extra cash and cleans the place once a week.”
I slowly nod, uncertain of how I feel about someone else up in my space.
“I’ll tell her to steer clear of your bedroom.”
“No,” I rush out. “Totally unnecessary.”
“Your face dropped at the mention of her. Either you don’t want her around your shit or her in the apartment. Which one?”
“Both.” I perk up. “How about this? I’ll clean for the both of us. I’m not paying rent. It’s the least I can do.”
“All right, but let me know if you change your mind.”
I jerk my thumb toward my chest. “Stress-cleaner, remember?”
He frowns. “I hope living here won’t cause you any stress,solet me know if you change your mind.”
“I will.”I won’t.
The three waitresses who work at the pub are gorgeous, and I’ve seen them flirt with my new roomie aplenty. I’m the only one allowed to do that in this apartment now.
At least, that’s what I want.
Oh my God.
I’m jealous.
Jesus.
