Page 12 of Bad Boy Next Door
“You did all that for me?” He smiled as he leaned one arm against the fridge. He was so big I expected the appliance, the whole building, to shift.
“I wanted to make up for being rude.” I stepped over a pizza box to get to the island-style counter that separated the kitchen from the main room, and put the plate down.
Standing this close to the man—and he was all man—something stirred deep inside me.
I stilled it. Clearly it had been way too long since I’d had sex if I was contemplating the act with this moose—more like grizzly bear. Still, there was something about him, something animalistic and raw that called out to that same part inside me.
“So what’s this about you owing me?” He turned to lean both arms against the counter, his biceps bulging.
“Yes, well. Let me know if there’s ever anything I can do for you. Frank, my dad, he told me you’re the one I have to thank for getting me this apartment.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Look, I don’t want to contradict anyone’s dad, but—”
I held up a hand. “Please, can you give me a break here? I came over to apologize.”
“And yet I haven’t heard you say sorry.”
“The brownies?” I cocked my head to the side. “Look, I’m not saying I don’t deserve to take a little shit from you right now, but you’re making this way harder by pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.Keep Nick happy. That’s part of the deal, right?” I rolled my eyes. “So here I am, making sure you know I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you happy. Okay?”
“O-kay.”
His expression confused me. He seemed amused—amused by me—and that felt patronizing given the circumstances, and I never did well with patronizing. Resisting the instinct to lash out, I drew a deep breath, vowing to keep myself in check. I needed to suck it up—suck up to him—if I wanted to live here. Plus, this deal was supposed to come with a great job at a downtown restaurant.
“Also”—I traced a finger through the grout on the tiled counter—“my dad said something about you lining up a job? Forgive me if I’m being pushy, but when do I start, and where?”
“A job?” He leaned forward. “Doing what, exactly?”
“I think my dad gave you a list of chefs I’d love to work under.”
He ran his hand through this thick dark hair. “How about you work under me?”
I backed up, stumbled over a beer bottle, and nearly lost my footing. “You expect me tofuckyou, is that it? Fucking you is the price of a cheap apartment and a new job?”
Pushing abruptly off the counter, he looked down, shaking his head, clearly ashamed. “No, I, ah… That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, good.” I squared my shoulders. “Because when I said I’d do anything to show my gratitude… Sex—that’s where I draw the line.”
His composure and power reappeared in a flash, and he shot me a heated look. “We’ll see about that. I’m not an easy man to keep happy.”
Wanting to tell him where he could shove his expectations, I bit my tongue. I’d made a horrible first impression, and my second one wasn’t going much better.
But I’d drawn my line. He’d seen it. Now didn’t seem the best time to dig that line deeper.
“Seriously. I’d like to make up for my rudeness,” I said. “Can I do anything?” I gestured around the room. “Maybe tidy up a little?”
He glanced around, looking slightly embarrassed. “Are you calling me a slob?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m sorry, I—” This guy seemed to enjoy giving me a hard time. “I like cleaning. It’s kind of an obsession.”
“Okay…” He shook his head as if trying to figure me out. “Come back in an hour. Give me a chance to check in about your job.”
