Page 4 of Bad Boy Next Door
“Very funny. Put my stuff down, asshole.” In the shadows, the man’s silhouette looked impossibly large, inhuman, as he set down my boxes.
“Just trying to help.”
“Did I ask for help?”
He raised his hands in surrender.
“Just don’t touch my stuff, okay?” I was being stubborn. And rude. I knew that. But Shady Oaks had a reputation, and even if this guy wasn’t out to rob me, I was tired and cranky, plus I didn’t like the idea of being in anyone’s debt. Anyone else’s.
“Got something illegal in here?” He tapped his big boot on the lower box.
“Of course not.” I turned from him and returned to the stairs, racing down to make sure no one had messed with the rest of my things.
I carried all I could at once, taking the stairs to the third floor in stages. On the landing between the second and third floors, I strapped on the weighted backpack, then pulled both suitcases behind me, straining as they thumped against each stair.
When I got to the top, the huge dude was hulking near my door, a half grin on his face as I staggered under the weight of my belongings. Even if he planned to kill me, I refused to be intimidated.
“Diamonds?”
“What?” I dug into the front pocket of my denim shorts to find my key, not at all happy that this guy was lurking.
“Gold bars?
“What are you talking about?”
“Since you wouldn’t let me touch them, must be something valuable in those boxes. A hoard of cash from your last bank job? Bricks of heroin?”
“None of your business.” I leaned the suitcases against the wall and shrugged off the backpack, which thumped to the broken-tiled hallway behind me. I took a deep breath and glared at him, making it clear that there was no chance I was opening my apartment door until he left me alone.
“If you don’t mind?” I said.
“Mind what?”
I lifted my chin to prove Jade Cuoco was not easily intimidated. “I’ve got mace. Don’t make me use it.” I didn’t have mace, or a weapon of any kind, unless you counted my cast-iron frying pan, currently buried in a box, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Wow.” He stepped back, lifting his hands. “Just trying to be friendly.”
“What makes you think I’d befriend a gorilla?”
His jaw tightened.
Good. I’d found the right button to push. Even though he was a few feet away, I felt boxed in.
He was so big—like his body might not fit through the door once it was opened—but under his jeans and black T-shirt, I couldn’t detect an ounce of fat. The man was a wall of muscle, and that wall had planted itself so close to me I was finding it hard to breathe.
“Get the fuck away from my door.”
“Wow.” He shook his head. “Just wow.”
“Look,” I said. “I’m really tired. Your intimidation thing might work on most people, but my security deposit and rent are paid in full”—so I’d been told—“and you can’t extort me into paying more. Whatever your game is, give it up. And stop lurking!”
“Lurking?” He shook his head. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that? Ilivehere.” He pointed to the door not three feet from my own. “Standing in the hall outside my apartment is not lurking. I have as much of a right to be here as you.”
He had a point, but that didn’t make me less uncomfortable.
I squared my stance. “For all I know, the second I open my door you’ll force your way in.”
He shifted back like I’d punched him and raised his palms toward me. “Whoa.”
