Page 19 of Sweet Hate
Abs that clearly just got out of the shower, judging by all the water drops trailing down. And I’m down here perving like I’m watching Magic Mike on stage in Vegas.
Jesus Haven.
Scrambling to my feet, I grab the cupcake box like I’ve not been crouching down here staring at his cock, probably flashing him too.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“I’m so sorry, I?—”
The words die on my tongue when my eyes clash with icy blue ones.
Yep. You guessed it. Familiar ones.
I shit you not.
Grams could have mentioned who the hell lived here. We’re going to need to have words if she’s meddling. Why would she send me here? He’s a fireman, he can’t be the handyman too. Maybe he has a roommate? That’s got to be it.
“You seem to be apologizing a lot lately.” His cold, clipped tone makes my blood boil, and I steel myself to deal with his bullshit. I’m not the same girl he once knew, and while every time I’ve seen him so far, I’ve made a giant tit of myself, it doesn’t mean it has to continue. Nope.
“Well, yes. At least I know how to apologize. Unlike some.”
Yep. Nailed that.
I take a deep breath before continuing, “So, as I wassaying…I’m sorry for disturbing you. I was just wondering if your roommate’s around. Grams said he was a handyman who likes cupcakes.”
He’s looking between me and the cupcakes I just shoved into his hands with a totally blank expression on his face. That doesn't fill me with confidence.
“I live alone.”
Right. okay. Unexpected.
“Is there more than one apartment up here?”
I glance around the corridor behind me to see if I missed another front door, but there’s nothing but the stairs leading out to the parking lot.
“No.”
Jesus. He makes a wall look chatty.
Heaving out a frustrated sigh, I try to pry the box of cupcakes back out of his grip, but he’s holding on tight.
“Right, okay. Well, as riveting as this conversation has been, Verona, there’s obviously been some sort of misunderstanding. Grams told me there was a handyman living above the bakery. Maybe she’s gotten a little confused. Don’t worry, I’ll head out.”
“What do you want with him?”
Barely suppressing a sigh, I look up at him. I don’t know what games this twat is playing, but I don’t have time for them.
“Well, there’s the tiny issue of the damaged bakery below. You know, the fire you showed up too late to put out? We figured it might be best to fix that up before we try to reopen. Hence the handyman.”
He lets out a derisive snort. “What? Something your city boyfriend can’t come out and fix? I thought he loved to nail things.”
City boyfriend, nailing things, huh?. The “thing” being me…the nerve of this clown thinking he’s so clever. Clearly he’s inhaled too much smoke.
“I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but I don’thave to put up with your bullshit. It’s not your concern who nailed what. Last I checked, your specialty is running into burning buildings. not repairing them. If you know this handyman, have him call me. If not, it’s fine, I’ll track him down myself. You can keep the cupcakes. A little sugar might cheer your grumpy ass up.”
With that, I spin on my heel, satisfaction coursing through me.
I boss bitched that.
