This man was out of his ever-loving mind. I stood in the middle of an apartment that was identical to Anthony’s besides the decor, of course. Which shouldn’t have been a surprise since it was only two floors above his.
“I can’t afford this place. You are out of your mind.”
“The rent is taken care of.”
I stormed up to him, ready to pull every single hair out of my head. The sheer audacity of this man. I couldn’t even believe it. He’d been bossing me around from the moment I’d asked for his help, and it didn’t seem like he had any plans on stopping any time soon.
“You are not paying my rent, Anthony Jackson.”
I hadn’t depended on anyone but myself since I’d graduated college. I was a strong, independent woman. I didn’t take handouts from men.
He smiled down at me. It wasn’t a nice smile, but instead an asshole smile, but it was still sexy. God, he was pretty, damn him. Standing toe-to-toe with him, I had a pretty sweet view. He was better looking than he’d been ten years ago, and it just wasn’t fair because he’d been so handsome and breathtaking then. Why did men age so damn graciously? The slight lines around his eyes only made him look more distinguished. How did he have stubble today already, and why did it look like it needed a good lick? And damn it, but he smelled like his bedroom, and I found myself holding my breath even while wondering how he managed to make that absurd bow tie hot. I could have screamed.
“Chill, bite size. I’m not paying for anything, so put a pause on your conniption fit. I have a doctor friend in Syria who’s away with Doctors Without Borders. He’ll be gone for the next six months. He said it was cool if you stayed here.”
Did he just call me bite size? Conniption fit? The man could drive a saint to murder. “I can’t stay here.”
I couldn’t explain it, but I didn’t feel right about Anthony calling in favors for me. Besides, it was way too nice of a place. I could find a crappy studio apartment to stay in for the next couple of months. I had a little money saved up, and if I played it right I could make it work for a little while.
“You can and you will.”
“No, I can’t. I can’t even afford a portion of the rent on a place like this.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s paid for already. All you have to do is keep it clean. I know that’s asking a lot, but I think you can manage if you try really hard.”
Oh, the condescension in that sentence almost really did send me into a conniption. Asshole. I rolled my eyes. I backed up and grabbed my bag off the floor and headed toward the door. I didn’t have to stand here and listen to him despite what he thought. I only needed him in a professional capacity. Nothing more.
“Uh uh uh,” he said from behind me, lifting the bag from my shoulder filled with all of the belongings I owned, and carried it to the hallway off the living room.
“What the hell are you doing?” I knew what he was doing. He was taking my stuff to the bedroom. And I knew what I was doing because he was pissing me off so I was making a scene.
I stood at the foot of the bed with my arms crossed and looked at the bag he laid on the bed.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” His eyes met mine with a dare even as he unzipped the bag slowly, seductively like he’d unzipped the back of my dress that night so long ago, and a shiver started in my toes and slipped right to my nipples. He must have seen it because one side of his lips hitched up in an almost smile.
Damn hormones. I couldn’t be held responsible for my body’s actions. I mean, the man was wearing an ugly bow tie, for goodness’ sake. Clearly I was out of my mind.
He reached into the bag and of course found that lace bra again and held it out. “I’m helping you unpack.” He smiled at me.
I snatched the silky piece of material from his hands and quickly shoved it under my shirt. “You are doing no such thing.” It was embarrassing the first time, even more so this go around. That bra was huge and not pretty. It had been a while since a man had seen my bra, and of course it had to be a giant, ugly pregnancy bra. I moved closer to the bed and blocked his path to my bag.
His jaw ticked. “Unpack the bag, shortcake. Now,” he gritted out.
Shortcake? He was just full of all kinds of short girl nicknames, wasn’t he? I flicked that bow tie again because it was fun. And it annoyed him. “No.”
His hand shot around me and dragged my bag off the bed and onto the floor. He pulled the handle toward the dresser and opened one of the big drawers at the bottom.
Grabbing my bag off the floor and holding it in his arms, he looked at me. “I was going to do this the easy way, but since you seem to like things hard.” He paused with a smirk and a raise of the eyebrows, and I rolled my eyes at his emphasis on the word hard because even though he was a thirty-something-year-old educated man, he had the sense of humor of a thirteen-year-old boy.
I pursed my lips, and he grinned evilly before turning my bag over and dumping all the contents in the bottom of the dresser drawer. “We’re gonna do things your way, Ms. Potter.” He gave the bag a final shake. “The hard way.”
I walked quickly toward the dresser drawers, jaw slack as I looked at all my toiletries and clothes thrown in the dresser haphazardly and spilling out over the side.
He slammed the drawer closed even though half of my shit was hanging out and then looked at me. He eyed me up and down, frowning at my stomach, and then bent over, opening the drawer again before standing back up and reaching under the bottom of my shirt and snatching the bra I’d hidden down there minutes before and tossing it in the already too full dresser drawer before slamming it closed again.
He’d been too quick for me to do anything but stand here like a fool. My eyebrows smacked my hairline. “You’re insane!” I screamed two inches from his face.
He dusted his hands together and started walking to the front door. He was certifiable. He was not leaving. I was leaving.
He laid his hand on the doorknob and turned around to look at me. “I’m insane.” He halfheartedly laughed. “I’m insane? You’re the most stubborn, infuriating woman I’ve ever met in my life!”
“I’m stubborn? That’s hilarious, Doc. You’re the absolute king of stubborn.” I pushed his hand off the doorknob. I was being immature; I just couldn’t summon the will to care. The man drove me nuts.
Hands low on his hips, he turned to me. “I’m the king of a lot of things, baby, but stubborn isn’t one of them.”
“You’re not leaving. I’m leaving!” I shouted, trying my damnedest to ignore his ridiculous sexual innuendo and him calling me baby. I didn’t like it at all. Not even a little bit.
“You’re not leaving. You’re going to sit your ass on that couch and relax. Because it’s what’s best for your baby.”
He stopped, looking at me because he knew he had me.
“Doctor’s orders,” he clipped out, adjusting his stupid tie and pulling at the cufflinks under his navy-blue blazer. He opened the door, giving me a final look before closing it quietly behind him like we weren’t just having the throw down of all throw downs. And I knew a throw down when I witnessed one because I was a throwing down kind of girl.
I stood here, staring at the door, mad as hell, mostly because I hated how much I loved that blue blazer on him.
“Stupid tie, stupid blazer, stupid Dr. Anthony Jackson,” I muttered to myself as I stomped back to the bedroom and pulled my stuff out of the dresser and placed it back on the bed, folding everything neatly.
I’d teach his ass. I’d call my momma and get the hell out of here. He couldn’t tell me what to do. There were other doctors out there who could help me.
Baby girl somersaulted around in my stomach, and I smiled down at my belly despite the crazy day I’d had.
“Team Hope,” I whispered to her, rubbing my hand over my belly.
Then I thought of all the diapers, clothes, and things I’d need to care for her. I thought of all the money I’d need to buy those things. And I realized I was standing in a very nice apartment. For free. So I took all the neatly folded clothes from the bed and slipped them into the dresser drawers Anthony had thrown my belongings in earlier.
I may not have wanted Anthony’s help, but I needed it. It sucked, but I was just going to have to get the hell over it because this entire situation sucked, and I just needed to make the best of it. And that’s what Anthony was. My best bet. My arch nemesis.
After I finished putting my clothes away I texted Miranda and Ainsley my new address for the next couple of months and put my shoes on, deciding I’d need to get groceries. It took way longer than it should have, and I was huffing and puffing by the time I actually got it done. As I went to open the apartment door, I heard a knock, so I looked through the peephole to find the same teenager from yesterday there with a bag of food. I opened the door and he gave me a look like I was going to argue with him again.
Instead, I grabbed the food from his hand and grumbled out a, “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.”
I closed the door, pushed my tennis shoes off with my heels because I was done trying to bend over anymore today, and opened my food and ate out of the containers on the sofa, savage and all.
The man wasn’t going to let me do anything for myself, but I wasn’t about to turn down food. I was starving and pregnant and until you actually were growing a baby you didn’t quite understand what starving meant. Which meant I was hella hungry. All the time.
The bastard. He’d known exactly what I needed and he’d been ready to offer it up to me on a silver platter even though I didn’t want it.
Yes, Dr. Anthony Jackson had won today, but tomorrow I wouldn’t let him get me riled up. Yes, I’d be cool and I’d keep a calm head.
Tomorrow, I would win.