Page 5 of Score on You

The strain between my shoulders multiplies. “When does she have to be out by?”

“Missed that part, hmm?” Her tone is too smug. “She has until the thirty-first to relocate.”

“That’s less than a week,” I mumble absently.

“Which doesn’t seem legal. She’s just expected to pack up and get gone,” Harper gripes.

“Has she found somewhere to go?”

“Not yet. She just got the news yesterday. I would’ve offered to let her reclaim my spare room, but that’s not an option since I surrendered my apartment to live in matrimonial bliss. Besides, she won’t share a house with a man. Callie prefers to have her own space.” Her shoulders lift in a defeated shrug.

Meanwhile, an idea is quickly forming. “How much is she paying now?”

“Five hundred, and the studio might as well be a shoebox. It barely fits her bed and dresser. Not sure how she’s survived there for over a year.”

My upper lip curls at Callie’s current living conditions, shoving this plan full-speed ahead. “The house attached to mine is available.”

Harper scoffs. “Like the other half of a duplex? She can’t afford that.”

“The rate is flexible. I’m willing to bet she can negotiate the price.”

Her hip cocks out as she leans against the sink. “And why is that?”

My gaze narrows in on a smudge. “It’s just sitting empty and collecting dust. Could she swing four hundred plus utilities?”

Her eyes bulge. “Is it a dump?”

“Do you think I’d live in a shithole?” I’m almost offended.

“No, but four hundred is crazy low.” She clucks her tongue. “As in too good to be true.”

“It’s rent-controlled,” I explain.

Her lips pucker tighter than a virginal asshole. “You just said the rate is flexible.”

“It is, but there’s a cap.”

“Set by your grandpa in the forties?”

A dull throb begins to pound at my temples. “Does it matter? Just have Callie come by and check out the place.”

Harper squints at me. “Do we need an appointment?”

“Nah, I’ll make sure it’s available whenever she’s ready.”

“Are you friends with the owner?”

“You could say that,” I hedge. Even if I wasn’t, this plan would sprout to fruition.

“Where was this magical property when I was renting?”

“Not an available option. You’re not neighbor material.” I grunt at the thought. “Behind the bar is as close quarters as I can manage, especially once Evans came back into the picture.”

She glances at her husband, who’s envisioning me as target practice, if the lethal intentions behind his glare are anything to go by. Harper’s laughter confirms my suspicion. “Touché.”

“So,” I drawl. “You’ll talk to her?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves off the brimming urgency in my voice and flings a towel over her shoulder. “When are you gonna do the honors yourself? I told you to go easy with her, but that seems like forever ago. It’s about time you break the ice, champ.”

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