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Apparently when one as hot as Phate focused his attention on her.
With the door closed, she could finally get her thoughts in order. Tasha wiped the sweat away from her forehead. Her hammering heart? Only distance would get that under control and distance she would give it. Tasha turned on her heels, making her way back to her apartment where no hot men were, and she could forget about making a fool of herself.
“Hey! Where are you going?” Nisha yelled at her back.
Tasha opened her door and crossed over the threshold, leaving it ajar for Nisha. “You wanted to meet them. We did. Mission accomplished.”
Entering her apartment made her feel better already. Now, she only needed to avoid her neighbors and maybe they would forget about her stammering and sweaty face. That should be easy enough. Her hours at the boutique were long.
As the sole proprietor, she worked hours before opening to make sure the place was clean, and the inventory was wrinkle free and ready. At night, she usually unpacked any shipments, tagged the items and did more inventory. She was supposed to have one day off—Sundays—but she was never truly off.
Today, she’d spent her day stuck to her computer, handling the administrative end of the business.
Nisha finally came into the apartment but didn’t take her favorite seat on the couch. Instead, she leaned a hip against the kitchen countertop, tipped her chin up and drawled, “Tasha Louise Moore.”
“Anisha Tabitha Jones,” Tasha said, matching Nisha’s chastising tone. It was a tone Nisha had gotten from her adoptive Asian mother and thought would make Tasha—or anyone else she used it on—listen to her.
Nisha hiked her thumb toward the wall separating the two apartments. “Are we seriously walking away from all that hotness next door?”
“Yes. It was easy to do. Do you know why?” Tasha plopped down onto her loveseat. The cushions immediately molded comfortably to her bottom, making her feel at home. She glanced at Nisha and raised her eyebrow. When Nisha didn’t answer, Tasha continued, “Because they slammed the door in our faces.”
Nisha waggled her finger. “Shut the door nicely.”
“Slammed,” Tasha corrected. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get back to these new orders because they sure as hell aren’t going to order themselves.”
Things had been easier when she’d first started. She’d spent the last five years growing it from an internet only operation to a small kiosk that sold scarves and jewelry on the weekends at the local mall. Now, she owned a storefront in a corner suite downtown.
“Oh, what’s that noise?” Nisha crossed the apartment to peer out the main window overlooking the parking lot and tree lined street below.
Tasha shook her head. Nisha had the attention span of a squirrel. “What is it?”
“Another moving truck.”
Tasha frowned. “Someone else is moving into the building?”
“Yeah.”
“Two new neighbors in a month? What’s going on in our little town?” Considering her building had thirty-two apartments and as of a month ago, there hadn’t been any new residents over the past two years.
* * *
MARGIE SANTANA TOOKa deep breath and tilted her head back to get a good look at the building she would be calling home for the unforeseeable future. It wasn’t one of the newer, fancier places found closer to the downtown area. This apartment building rested in the heart of the West side community comprised mostly of older adults and families.
It had a brown façade with four large front facing windows directly across the street from another apartment building. There was no chipped paint, and the lawn was tastefully manicured with colorful shrubbery.
Not something she normally would pick for herself, but her current assignment called for expediency. It wasn’t all bad though, not like her last assignment, so she was grateful for that at least.
It was the perfect place to stay if someone wanted to blend in with the locals.
Which was probably why aliens would pick this building to live in.
