Page 22 of Necessary Roughness

“Same here.” Barb took Jordan’s purse, her laptop bag, and the rolling suitcase and stashed them in the open elevator. “You can take them downstairs later. Let’s talk about how this is going to work.”

Barb led Jordan into an airy, open kitchen with a center island and a breakfast bar.

“This is gorgeous,” Jordan said.

“It is,” Barb said. “Would you like something to drink? There’s water and ice in the front of the fridge. The glasses are in the first cabinet on your right.” She sat down at the wooden kitchen table.

“Would you like some too?” Jordan said. Barb nodded. It was a little weird that Barb thought Jordan was in the house to wait on her, but maybe that was part of the discussion Barb wanted to have.

The old-fashioned round table and high-backed chairs were made of wood and painted a glossy cider color. Jordan was surprised to note a blue-checked cotton tablecloth. Most guys (in her experience) didn’t care about stuff like tablecloths. She filled two glasses with ice water and put one down in front of Barb.

Jordan sank into the chair across from Barb.

“I’m here five days a week,” Barb said. “I don’t clean. I don’t cook. I don’t do his laundry. I’m not here to wait on him.”

“Got it,” Jordan said.

“I have to make sure he doesn’t kill himself in the shower, but I don’t sleep with him. Are you planning on sleeping with him?”

Jordan spent a few seconds pondering exactly what Barb meant by “make sure he didn’t kill himself in the shower,” but it finally dawned on her that she’d been insulted. “What?” popped out before she could stop herself from speaking.

“I’m not dealing with the bullshit that goes along with it if you’re making a play for him. If that’s your plan, you need to leave right now.” Barb looked across the table at Jordan. “Do I make myself clear?”

“I’m not interested in him,” Jordan said. “Why would you think I was?”

“You were quick enough to decide to move in here.”

“It wasn’t my idea. He still can’t drive—”

“Doesn’t matter.” Barb waved one hand in the air. “You’ll have to work the cooking and cleaning out with him, in any case. Good luck with that.” She chugged the rest of her water, got up from the table, and walked out of the kitchen without another word.

Jordan stood up and reached out for the glass of half-melted ice Barb had left behind. She wasn’t going to spend the next couple of months cooking for and cleaning up after two other people, either. Barb’s behavior was weird. Come to think of it, the entire situation was weird, and she was obviously missing something. She glanced out the window and noted Harrison’s car was gone too. Maybe she should text him and ask what the hell was going on.

Jordan dumped the leftover ice into the sink and put the glasses into the top shelf of the dishwasher. Somebody was doing housework around here; the house was too clean for a guy who had spent the past six months hanging out on the couch, according to him. She reached out to open the refrigerator door. It was full of fresh fruit and vegetables. No science projects anywhere.

Speaking of science projects, she heard the unmistakable sound of someone walking with crutches and heading toward the kitchen. There wasn’t anywhere to hide. He’d see her if she dashed down the hall past him. Best to get this over with.

Tanner appeared in the doorway with a pillowcase crease on one cheek. His hair was a tousled mess, and he gave her a somewhat dazed smile. “You’re still here.”

“I’m thinking I should leave.”

He lowered himself into one of the kitchen chairs and leaned the crutches against the table. “Why?” He nodded at the chair across from him. “Have a seat.”

She’d rather poke herself in the eye, but she approached the table once more and pulled out a chair to sit in. Silence fell as Jordan folded her hands on the kitchen table. Tanner leaned back in the kitchen chair.

“What’s up?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t believe I agreed to do this,” she said. “I should go home. Barb can take care of you, and I’ll see you at physical therapy.”

“Chickening out already? I thought you were tougher than that.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at the same time. She couldn’t figure out why he got under her skin so badly. He was annoying. He was also handsome, which made the annoying part even worse. She’d never had a client like him before. She was confused, somewhat dazzled, and wishing he came with an FAQ or whatever.

“What’s the problem, then?” he said. She was a bit shocked to see him attempting to look pitiful. The slight pout he currently wore was sexy on him. Any other guy would look pathetic. “You’ll have a captive audience too.”

“Didn’t you have a driver? I thought that’s how you got to your appointments.”

“He listened to country music in my Highlander.”

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