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“I don't think so. I live in #1.”
She’s trying to act tough. It’s not really working. She crosses her arms over her chest, which plumps her breasts up nicely, but doesn’t make her look any tougher, if that is what she is after. “It's a two-bedroom. I don't have many personal items. Anymore.”
I lean down, get in her space. “I see. You’re going to move intomyapartment. Live withme. A man you don’t know.”
“Should I be afraid of you, Nash?”
Well, I was going to try to intimidate her, but that would be a dick move. Of course she shouldn’t be afraid of me. But for fuck’s sake. She can’t just move in with me.
“I think I'll spend the day settling in to the apartment, and tomorrow we can go over some numbers.”
“Listen, lady...” I’m interrupted by the beer distributor and when I look up, my dad is handing her a key from the drawer under the bar. “Dad, no.”
She smiles sweetly at him and waves at me before she goes through the door to my house.
Chapter Three
Tru
ICANNOT BELIEVE Ijust pulled that off. I go upstairs after being assured by Mr. McKendrick, who told me to call him Pops, that Nash would be happy to bring my things up when he was done getting the delivery.
I am sure happy is not the right word for it, but I gave Pops the Popstar my car keys.
The apartment is surprisingly clean, and it’s easy to pick out which bedroom belongs to Nash and which is, conveniently for me, already a guest room. Nash’s room smells like him. Robust, spicy, a little dark. The guest room smells like Pledge.
I open Fifi’s carrier and let her explore the apartment while I try to catch my breath and calm my racing heart.
I have never spoken so decisively to a man before as I did with Nash. I have never just said, “This is what I want and this is how it is, deal with it.” But now that my adrenaline is evaporating, I realize I now live with a man. A stranger. A very sexy could-be-dangerous stranger.
I couldn’t have imagined the woman I have become two months ago. I’m surprised every day that I’m still here. Still breathing, still fighting, still feeding my dog and breathing air and just living. Nothing in my life experience has prepared me to be broke or deal with business or even people I don’t know. I’ve never stood up to anyone before. I never had to. Now I just barged into this man’s life and moved into his house. I am making a pot of coffee in his, our, kitchen, when I hear him enter the apartment and drop my things on the floor.
He stares at me like he didn’t expect me to really be here. “The dog has to go.”
I shake my head. “Fifi is all I have left.”
His eyes soften, but I don’t want his pity. “Listen, Gertrude...”
