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He narrowed his eyes at the gangly-limbed kid with sun-kissed skin and pixie-cut blue hair. “Yeah, it’s plugged in. I have half a brain.” Just in case, he gave a quick glance at the outlet and was relieved to confirm his status as person-with-brain. For good measure, he smacked the metal wall of the appliance to see if this helped. Sam wasn’t looking forward to giving his dad, the penny pincher who owned the property, the bad news about the necessary purchase of a new second-hand dryer.
One thing he didn’t need was an audience, especially one who made it necessary to curtail colorful expletives after jamming a finger. “It’s the middle of the day. Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
Zabe rolled her eyes. “Do you not know about weekends? Besides, I bet I can learn more in half a day than you could learn in a full one.”
“That’s probably true,” Sam muttered beneath his breath. Zabe was smart. She’d probably become a senator or a lawyer instead of a twenty-nine-year-old manager/handyman of a collection of shitty apartments. “Why aren’t you inside, wasting time playing Heroes’ Calling or something and making other players cry? That has to be more fun than watching me break things.”
She tilted her head, lips scrunching together. “What’s Heroes’ Calling?”
“Are you kidding me? That game was da bomb. My brother and I used to spend our whole summer playing that on Xbox.” At the mention of Nate, an emotional rope wrapped itself around his chest and tightened. He ignored it, returning to his task with the dryer instead.
“What’sda bomb? Is that an old man saying?”
“Get out of here, youth.” Sam chucked a red grease rag at her but, with a giggle, she dodged the soft projectile, and it flew past the open laundry room door. Zabe chased after it.
“Hey, Sam?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s a girl knocking on your door. Areallypretty girl.” Zabe said this last sentence in a teasing, sing-song fashion.
“Ow. Fu—dge.” Pulling his head out from the inside of the dryer, he had banged it on the edge, knocking his hat off. He rubbed at the scalp pain before replacing the baseball cap.
“Why would a pretty girl be coming to see you?” Zabe squinted an eye as though this was the most perplexing math problem. Pretty girl plus Sam equals error. Does not compute. Please try again.
The time on his phone sent him scrambling to his feet. “Oh, shit. That has to be the prospective renter for apartment seven.”
“Ooooo. You said the s-word.”
Dammit.He had been doing so well, too.
As he patted the dirt and cobwebs from his clothes, Zabe leaned out the door with one hand gripping the door frame, keeping her anchored. She waved and hollered, “He’s coming, lady. Don’t worry. He’s just fixing his hair.”
He sighed. “Give me a break, Zabe.”
She giggled and continued waving her free hand. “He’s coming. Any minute now.”
He made his way across the yard toward his apartment/office. His right knee was bothering him today, as if someone had replaced his tendons with brand-new rubber bands. Seven years after the accident, most days he was fine but today was not one of those days. As someone who had started college with the intention of going into sports medicine, he was well aware of what exercises and stretches he could do to help the situation, but he also didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, the punishment could continue. Busted-ass knee, crap-shack apartment, no younger brother. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.
The pretty girl, as Zabe described her, had her back to him with a hand placed on one jutted hip. She was focused on the phone held in her other hand. She wore black leggings that hugged every curve on the lower half of her body. The top half was a loose gray tank top but this was partially covered by long wavy brunette locks. If the back part was this tantalizing, he couldn’t imagine what the front—
“You.” Her gaze zipped to his after turning her head.
“Lulu?”
Full, glossy lips tasting of watermelon stretched into a disapproving flat line. His taste buds still marveled at the burst of flavor that had hit his lips that morning. Sam had instantly regretted reacting so quickly, wishing he had allowed himself to relish the fruity sweetness before wiping it away. This probably made him a sad, desperate single guy but he didn’t care.
The point was he’d never met a person who’d instantly set him on edge by their very presence. How was a man supposed to prepare for this? When it came to interacting with a woman such as Lulu, his brain had to go with the worst possible options. Either he’d be a flustered, bumbling buffoon, or someone who was ready to pick a fight. There didn’t seem to be anything in between. This was not the impression he’d wanted to make but maybe his luck was changing and he was getting a second opportunity, a chance to do better with her.
Her frown hadn’t budged. “I actually prefer the name Luna. Please tell me you’re just wandering through and you don’t live here.”
His brow pressed together because his second chance wasn’t off to an encouraging start. “If I did, is it a problem?”
“Well, I’ve been spending the day assuring myself that I would never see you again, so you being here is only proving that the powers that be thought it would be hilarious to toy with me, which I don’t appreciate at all. Today has already been challenging enough.” In spite of her words, he detected a brief glint of amusement flashing across her features.
He relaxed, letting his lips curl upward. “Somehow, I’m not surprised you’ve centered yourself, even in the world of gods. You ever think that maybe they’re actually toying with me?”
Her gaze dropped, a smile appearing, and, suddenly, getting back into her good graces no longer felt insurmountable, like a fresh breeze sweeping through the area. Zabe was right. She was really pretty with her dark wavy locks and bright hazel eyes, like the personification of the first bright days of fall.
