“Great. Just freaking great.”
I walked up closer and to the side, waving my arm hoping to get his attention. He pushed the wood through the saw and finally stood up and flipped a switch. The ear-splitting screeching sound came to a halt.
“Hey!” I shouted again.
He moved, and as he did, all my earlier frustration, all my anger and irritation at being constantly woken up so early and dealing with this man earlier in the week came to a full-blown boil.
Oh God. It washim.Mr. Jerkface. And he had the nerve to look even better than he had the other day.
I walked to him, slamming my hands to my hips. He would not demean me in front of a student and then have the audacity to wake me up every freaking weekend.
“Noah!” I shouted again. He must have heard me because his head jerked toward the house, and he lifted the headphones off one ear. I called his name again and his head swiveled toward me.
And good Lord. The man was beautiful. Once again in jeans and a plain short sleeve shirt, his sleeves were so tight around his biceps they were at risk of tearing if he so much as flexed. How did a lawyer get such a damn good body?
Andhewas the guy waking me up every day? Fitting. He had as little respect for neighbors as he did his niece’s teacher. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I still stood there gaping at him.
A smirk lit up his face and he tugged off the headphones, draping them around his neck. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Miss Frazier?” he asked, removing his protective eye gear and tossing them to the bench.
He made pleasure sound like poison and I fought a cringe at his surly tone.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
I was pissed. Rattled. The way he stared at me was unnerving as he languidly dropped his gaze from my face to my shirt, to my legs.
His smirk turned to a scowl and he moved toward me. Still staring at my legs.
“You’re bleeding. Badly.”
“What?” I glanced down and sure enough, blood trickled down my thighs and shins. “Oh. Well, the trees are thick.” I jerked my thumb in the direction from where I came. “And you’re my neighbor apparently.”
His eyes went wide, thick caramel colored brows furrowed. He stared at me like I spoke Greek, still moving toward me and wrapped his hand around my bicep.
“Hey!” I tried to shake him off and failed as he hauled me toward his house. “What are you doing?”
“You’re bleeding.”
Duh. “It’s no big deal. I’ll take care of it when I get homeafteryou promise to stop waking me up so gosh darn early every stinking morning.”
He said nothing, but flung open the sliding door to his house and pulled me toward a folding table smack dab in the middle of what I assumed was his living room. Hard to tell since the majority of his house was ripped apart. Counters didn’t exist, just appliances. The wood floor was nothing more than subfloor with rugs set beneath furniture, dark brown leather couches that held a gentle coat of dust.
“Sit,” he commanded and let go of my bicep only to point to a chair.
My hackles rose. “I am not a dog. And I don’t need your help. Just promise me you’ll stop waking me up before eight on the weekends and I’ll get out of here.”
His nostrils flared, eyes narrowed. A vein was at risk of exploding at his temple. “Sit down.” He turned on his heel toward a hallway and I struggled with what to do.
My hands balled into fists and my teeth ached from clenching them. I would leave when he responded in some way that he understood what I was saying. I took in his open living and dining space where everything was essentially ripped apart down to the barest bones possible. He had Riley living here? It was a construction zone and there wasn’t a hint of any kid’s toys. Not a single child-related thing in sight and a corner of my lip curled. Where did she play?
A door opened and closed down the hall and footsteps tapped on the floor as he returned. I spun in his direction, intent on giving him a piece of my mind at not only his rudeness by putting his hands on me and pulling me around, commanding me like I was some pet and not his niece’s teacher, along with being a horrible neighbor when my eyes popped at what he carried in his hand.
At his side swung a heavy-duty case that looked larger than any toolbox my father ever owned. The thing was massive, and my jaw dropped as Noah walked right to me, in my personal space, the box at his side, and his eyes narrowed with displeasure.
“Sit down, Miss Frazier, so I can clean up your blood before you lose it all over my floor.”
That time it was my nostrils that flared. He spoke my name like I was some viper and what in the hell had I ever done to him. My shoulders rose and fell with every angry breath I took, fighting for control of my temper. Which I rarely had to do. It took a lot to make me upset, but apparently this man in front of me, staring me down and standing so close I could almost feel his breath just did it for me.
He wanted to clean up my scrapes? Fine. Perhaps if I let him win this battle, he’d finally act like he’d heard me.