floor with no shirt on, and her obviously-fake boobs holding her up in the air, like she was doing ‘upward dog’ without hands.
I looked at my watch, it was 5:00, I wasn’t on schedule, the way I wanted to be. I wanted to be running and unpacked by 5:30.
Chapter Two
Roomies
I felt considerably worse when the tattooed guy produced a lease agreement, identical to mine, from a cupboard. He ranted and pointed at me, cussing up a storm when the cops removed the cuffs from him and the girl. They tried to calm him down, shaking their heads and muttering, “This is a civil issue. You need to hunt down the property-management people.”
The guy rinsed his eyes at the sink in the island and pointed his middle finger at me, with water dripping from his red face, “This is bullshit. I want her escorted off the property. Use the cuffs.”
I felt sick. My whole plan was taking a huge turn down a road I hadn’t been prepared for.
The cop shook his head, “It’s as much hers as it yours—in our eyes.”
One of the other cops motioned for the guy to come over, “Lochlan, can I get you to sign this?”
Why didn’t he want my signature? I was the one who called? Maybe it was a witness statement for his defense, and I didn’t need one ‘cause I had called. I hugged myself and paced the living room.
The sobbing girl ran and grabbed her shirt. She slapped the dark-haired guy when she left.
The guy took the hit, staring daggers at me, “Guess there’ll be no happy ending at the end of that meal.” I noticed the red was starting to lighten in his eyes, flashing dark-blue hatred at me. I hadn’t noticed his eyes were blue before. They had looked black—with hate. The way he furrowed his brow, took away all the light from his eyes.
The cop laughed with the guy and pocketed the thing he signed, “This is pretty funny. You have to admit. You being you and whatever.”
The guy didn’t look like he felt like laughing. He looked savage. I didn’t feel like laughing. I hugged myself and dialed the property manager’s office… again. When I got the answering machine, I felt homicidal.
The guy pointed to the door, “Well, now that we’ve determined this is both our place, can y’all leave and let me and her figure it out, before we get evicted? And I’d like to get my shirt on.” He dried his dark hair with a tea towel. His ripped and tattooed body had droplets of water running down it. I tried not to look, but he was incredible to look at, like watching athletes or seeing a celebrity. He had a rough edge but there was so much beauty.
He caught me staring at him. I quickly changed my look of awe to annoyance. He gave me a half-assed grin, shaking his head.
The cop nodded at me, “You guys okay, alone together?” he almost joked, as if he was implying something. I ignored his weird comment and clutched my mace in my hands. I looked at the tall, angry guy next to me and sighed, realizing there was no way out of it. I nodded, “I’m fine.” The guy left the room and came back with a shirt on. He rubbed his eyes, “My eyes are still fucking burning.”
The cops laughed again and left us standing in the living room, staring at each other. There was a darkness about him that scared me. He was stunningly beautiful but looked angry, like he might not be able to control it.
His murderous stare didn’t lessen when he lifted one side of his lips into a cocky grin, “You want a beer?” He sounded annoyed still but I caught something, a twang in the way he said beer. I could still see the hostility in his eyes. They were beyond expressive.
I nodded and sat on the couch. Angering him wouldn’t help the situation. I pinched the bridge of my nose and took deep breaths. When I felt better, I looked up at him, “Since it’s your house too, I’m really sorry for spraying you with mace.” I really wasn’t though. The girl looked like a hooker. I didn’t want hookers in my house. The thought of it made me want to clean everything. Yuck. My mother would have had a fit.
He gave me the same cocky half smile and pointed at me, “I call bullshit on that. I’m gonna bet you