Chapter 8
THE GOOD PART
LEVI
Hitting “Call” on Fawn’s number, I step out of my apartment, pulling the door closed behind me while listening to the phone ring as I head across the hall.
“Levi,” her sweet, soft voice answers, causing something in my chest to shift at the sound of my name leaving her mouth.
“Come to the door.” I need to see her; I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since I got called out this morning.
“Pardon?” she asks, and through the phone I hear her moving, then realize that her parents might still be staying with her, which would fuck up my plans for the evening unless I can convince her to come sleep at my place.
“Are your parents gone?”
“Yeah, they left this evening around six,” she says after a long pause.
Thank fuck.
“I’m at the door.”
“My door?” she asks, sounding adorably confused, and I smile.
“Yeah, baby, at your door.”
“Oh.” I hear more movement over the phone, and then I hear the sound of her feet on the wood floors getting closer. The sound of the locks clicking sounds right before she swings the door open. “Hey.” She smiles her beautiful smile up at me, and that shit in my chest shifts once more. “You showered,” she accuses, looking me over as her smile slides into a frown, making me grin. I know I shouldn’t get off on her attitude, but she is seriously cute when she’s pissed or flustered or aggravated with me.
“I did,” I agree, leaving out the fact that I had to shower to wash away the stench of death that had seeped through my clothes and into my pores. Placing my hand against her soft stomach, I nudge her back into the apartment, then turn to close and lock the door.
“I thought you were going to call when you got home.” Pulling my eyes from Muffin, who has forced her head under my hand, I lift my head to look at Fawn, feeling my mouth run dry when I finally take her all in. Christ, she’s gorgeous. Her blonde hair is in wild curls down around her shoulders, her big blue-gray eyes are soft with sleep, and her cheeks are a sweet shade of pink. Running my eyes down her body, I fight back a groan. She looks like a living wet dream in a pair of plain cotton panties, her nipples visible through a thin tank. Fucking breathtaking.
“I was going to call, but I needed to see you.” I take a step toward her without telling my feet to move, watching her eyes flare as my hand wraps around her hip.
“You needed to see me?” she repeats, sounding breathless.
“Yeah, I needed to see you,” I say, gently rubbing my thumb over the exposed skin of her stomach where her tank has ridden up. “Were you sleeping?”
“No, I was waiting for you to call,” she says, then ducks her head, taking her eyes from me—something she does often, something I honestly find adorable but frustrating as hell.
“Don’t hide from me.” I pull her into me until we’re pressed together from hip to chest, then wrap my free hand around her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “I want you to care,” I say, then drop my voice. “I want you to think about me as much as I think about you.”
“You think about me?”
“More than is healthy,” I tell her honestly, since from the moment she literally ran into me she’s been a constant thought in the back of my mind.
“Oh.” She swallows, melting into me. Jesus, this woman is going to do me in. I don’t know what to do with her kind of sweet, but I do know I’d a be fool not to try to figure it out.
“Come on.” I take her hand and lead her to the door, where I turn out the light before tugging her back across her living room.
“Um . . . Levi, what are you doing?” she asks nervously as we walk through her bedroom door.
“We’re going to bed.”
“We’re going to bed,” she repeats on a whisper, sounding even more nervous than she did seconds ago.
“Yeah, baby, we’re going to bed.”
“You’re . . . you’re going to sleep in my bed with me?” she asks, and I flip on the light, needing to see her face.
“Is that okay?”
“I have my period,” she blurts, then covers her mouth as her cheeks darken.
Fighting back a smile that I know she won’t appreciate, I duck my face closer to hers so she’s forced to look at me. “Baby, I just want to hold you, and like I told you before, we are not having sex until I know you fully understand exactly what that means,” I say, and she blinks.
“What it means?”
“What it means,” I confirm. “Get in, babe,” I mutter while lifting my chin toward the bed. There is nothing I want more than to feel her wet heat strangling my cock, to hear her moaning my name as she comes with her nails digging into my back. There is nothing I want more than her under me, but until I break down her walls and know she understands me having her in that way will make her completely mine, I won’t take us there.
“My bed’s only a double. I don’t know if you’ll fit,” she informs me, and I watch her ass as she climbs across the bed, scooting over as far as she can possibly go without falling off the edge.
“Oh, I’ll definitely fit,” I mutter to myself, kicking off my sneakers and stripping off clothes, watching her bite her lip as her eyes scan over my chest and abs. Hitting the light, I get into bed, then listen to her squeak as I grab her wrist and drag her across until she’s half on top of me with her arm over my gut. She lets out a whoosh of breath against my pec as I wrap my hand around the back of her knee and pull up until she’s straddling my hip.
“Are you going to be comfortable like this?” she asks, holding herself stiff against me.
“Oh yeah.” I run my fingers down the smooth skin of her thigh, loving the way her breath comes out in small pants every time I touch her. “How was your visit with your parents?” I ask, and her muscles tense as she tries to pull away, but there is no way I’m letting her go—not when I’ve got her exactly where I want her.
Giving up with a growl of frustration a second later, she finally answers. “It’s always good to see them, but . . .” She pauses, and I feel her shake her head. “I’m so, so sorry about how crazy everyone acted.”
“Baby”—I kiss the top of her head—“I swear once you meet my family, yours will look tame.”
“No one could possibly be worse than my mom,” she mutters, and I try to fight it, but I can’t. “Are you laughing?” she asks in disbelief as my chest shakes with silent laughter.
“A little,” I admit through a chuckle.
“My mom is so embarrassing,” she groans, and I smile, kissing the top of her head once more.
“Does she always suggest you get knocked up by the guys you’re dating?”
“No, you are the first,” she sighs, burying her face against my chest, and I grin.
“I’m gonna take it as a compliment,” I say, giving her a squeeze.
“It was a compliment.” She pauses, then lets out a breath. “A weird one, but a compliment all the same.” I laugh, feeling her body relax completely against mine as her cheek moves, letting me know she’s smiling.
“Sleep, gorgeous,” I whisper, tilting her chin up so I can touch my mouth to hers softly.
“Okay,” she agrees, resting her cheek against my chest and pulling the blanket up around us. “Night, Levi,” she says quietly, turning her head to kiss my chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Jesus.” I hold her tighter, closing my eyes and wondering how the fuck this happened. It’s been forever since I’ve been even remotely interested in being in a relationship. I haven’t wanted to feel obligated to someone, but every second I spend with Fawn makes me want those things with a ferocity I would have thought impossible. I want her to need me, and that fact alone should scare the shit out of me, but it only makes me feel more determined.
“Night, baby,” I whisper, listening to her breathing even out as she falls off to sleep against me.
“No, Muffin.” Hearing that and feeling Fawn’s ass shift against my hard-on and thighs, I open one eye, then the other, finding the room lit with the morning sun coming in through the closed blinds covering the window. “Muffin, I said no,” Fawn growls, sounding frustrated, and I watch her up on an elbow with her hand on Muffin’s chest, trying to push her off the bed where she’s standing with both paws on the mattress.
“Ruff.” Muffin barks loudly, attempting to push forward against her palm.
“There’s no room you,” Fawn cries as Muffin reaches her goal of getting all four paws on the bed and lies down. “I swear, you are the most stubborn dog in the whole world,” she huffs, falling to her back, and I pull her against me, kissing her shoulder and feeling her shiver.
“Does she normally sleep in the bed with you?” I ask, and her eyes come to me over her shoulder. Her tongue comes out to touch her bottom lip, making my cock—which has been hard since last night—throb painfully.
“Not always. Some nights she’ll sleep on the couch.” Nodding, I run my fingers down her creamy-smooth cheek, watching her eyes as they fill with something soft.
“Tonight we’ll sleep in my bed. She can have the couch, and I’ll shut the bedroom door.”
“Your bed?”
“Yeah.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight,” I confirm, then lean back as she rolls over to face me.
“That would be three nights in row we’ve slept in the same bed,” she says, holding up three fingers between us.
“I wasn’t keeping count, but you’re right,” I agree, then drop my eyes to her mouth when her bottom lip disappears between her teeth. Something she does when she’s overthinking, something she does normally right before she blurts something out that either makes me laugh, pisses me off, or leaves me frustrated.
“I’ve . . . I . . .” She closes her eyes, then shakes her head. “I’ve never spent the night with anyone I’m not in a relationship with.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” She looks up at me. “So I don’t think we should be spending the night together until we are in a relationship.” Staring at her for a long moment in disbelief, I tilt my head back toward the ceiling and beg for patience.
“What exactly do you think is happening between us?” I ask after a moment, dropping my eyes back down to her.
“We’re seeing how things go?” she says quietly with a shrug, and I nod, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
“We’re seeing how things go, but while we’re doing that, you’re mine and I’m yours. We are in a relationship, Fawn—you’re my woman.” I watch her lips part and form a soft O. “Jesus, you have the ability to make me insane.”
“What?”
“Baby, you wanna know how many women I’ve spent the night with?”
“Not really.” Her face scrunches up, and her brows pull together tightly. If I wasn’t so annoyed, I’d find her expression adorable.
“The answer would be none. I’ve never spent the night with a woman I’m not in a relationship with—not even after being intimate with her.”
“Well, that’s rude.”
“That’s honest. I don’t play games, and I don’t lead women on.” I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close, then duck my face until it’s an inch from hers. “I’m gonna say it one more time and pray to god this shit finally sinks in. I like you. I like spending time with you. I want this thing with you to work out even though you are frustrating as fuck.”
“How was I supposed to know?” she asks, forcing me to my back and glaring down at me. “Obviously you haven’t dated recently,” she huffs, tossing her leg over my hip and pointing in my face once she’s straddling me. “The whole dating scene is a mess. You never know when a guy is really interested; you never know what the hell is going on, and you’re constantly left questioning every single thing that happens,” she growls, sliding off me and the bed and beginning to pace across her room.
Watching her breasts bounce with each step and the way her hair moves over her shoulders as she tosses her head, I fight my own growl. “So sorry for not assuming that we’re in a relationship.” Her eyes narrow on mine as she plants her hands on her hips, tossing her head to the side. “And stop checking me out and making me all dizzy when I’m annoyed with you.”
“I make you dizzy?” I smile smugly, and she huffs, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. “I can’t help it, baby. Swear to god, you’re adorable when you’re flustered, but when you’re pissed, you’re fucking exquisite,” I tell her honestly, and she tosses her arms in the air.
“You think I’m frustrating?” She points at me. “You’re the one who’s frustrating.” She moves across the room to the closet and pushes it open, grabbing a sweatshirt and pulling it on over her head before bending over and giving me a view of her ass, right before it’s covered with a pair of sweats, that has my teeth clenching together.
Watching her start to stomp past me to the bathroom, I grab hold of her wrist and drag her to stand between my spread thighs. “Are you done being mad?” I ask, grabbing her hips. She rolls her eyes.
“I’m not mad, I’m annoyed.”
“Why are you annoyed?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“I don’t know, I just am,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. I fight back a grin.
“All right, then, where are you going?”
“I have to take Muffin out.” She shrugs, then softly moves her fingers through my hair like she’s already forgotten she’s annoyed with me.
“I’ll take her. It’s cold out, baby.” While she shakes her head, her face softens.
“It’s okay. I want to go to Gino’s and get a bagel with smoked-salmon cream cheese while I’m out.”
“All right, I’ll go with you.” I stand, forcing her back a step, then wrap my hand around her jaw, tilting her head back. Leaning down, I press a quick kiss to her upturned lips, then tap her bottom. “Go on—we’ll have to stop at my place so I can clean up.” I send her on her way to the bathroom. Putting on the clothes I wore over last night, I sit down to put on my sneakers, then stand when she comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later.
“Time to get up,” she says toward the bed, where Muffin has now sprawled out across the entire surface. Lifting her fur-covered head, she looks at Fawn, tips her head to the side studying her, then lays it back down on her paws with a huff.
“Baby, seriously, she needs some training, at least enough that she’ll listen to you. It’s not safe. She’s as big as you are, and I know for a fact she can drag you around.”
“I know, I signed us up for doggie classes after the park incident,” she says, taking a seat on the edge of her bed to slip on a pair of sneakers. “Our first class is soon.”
“Good. Has she ever done that before?”
“No, but once when I took her out, I literally had to carry her home two blocks because she refused to walk home.”
“How big was she then?” I ask, looking at Muffin, who probably weighs as much as Fawn does soaking wet.
“Just about seventy pounds. That’s not even the worst part—it was pouring rain, so by the time we got home, I smelled like a wet dog. I didn’t even have time to shower before I had to get to work.”
“Jesus.”
“I know. Thankfully, that only happened once, but it was so bad I don’t ever want it to happen again,” she says, then looks at Muffin as she stands.
“Come on, girl, let’s go outside.” With a groan Muffin rolls over and stands on the bed before hopping off and walking to my side, leaning her weight into me. “You know most dogs like going outside?” I tell her, giving her head a rub.
“Yeah, but she’s not like most dogs, if you haven’t noticed. I’m pretty sure she’s a human trapped in a dog’s body,” she says to my back as I leave the bedroom and head for the kitchen.
“She is stubborn. Then again, so is her owner.” I smile over my shoulder at Fawn as I grab Muffin’s leash from the counter.
“Ha-ha-ha.” She rolls her eyes, and I grin, stopping at the door and wrapping my fist in her hoodie to pull her closer. I drop my mouth to hers in a quick touch before opening the door. Taking her hand, I lead her across the hall to my place, where I leave her in the living room with Muffin as I head for the bathroom to brush my teeth and take care of business. Stopping in my room on the way back to the living room, I grab a hoodie from my closet and holster my gun from the safe near my bed.
“Ready?” I ask, finding Fawn studying me and the gun holstered under my arm before I put on my hoodie and down vest over it.
“Yep.” She stands, and Muffin looks at her, then me, and lets out a huff before getting off the couch, obviously annoyed that she has to go somewhere else.
“Are you expecting trouble while we’re out?” she asks softly as I open the door, letting her out ahead of me.
“No, I always carry. Leaving my gun is like leaving my arm behind—impossible.”
“Really?” she asks, sounding surprised. “You didn’t have a gun on you on Halloween.”
“I did.”
“You did? I didn’t notice.” She frowns while I attach Muffin’s leash to her collar.
“You were flustered, baby.”
I grin, and she mutters, “This is true,” stopping behind me while I lock up my apartment.
“How do you feel about guns?” I ask, taking her hand in one of mine while holding Muffin’s leash with the other. After seeing the way Muffin was able to drag Fawn across the park, I worry about her walking her on her own.
“I grew up in a house with guns.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid of them.”
“I guess you’re right. When I was fifteen, my dad took me to the shooting range. He wanted me to get comfortable holding and shooting one. I can’t say I will ever buy a gun myself, but because of that experience, I’m not fearful of them.”
“Your dad’s a smart man.”
“He is,” she agrees with a small smile as we push out of the building and step onto the sidewalk.
“What way are we heading?” I ask, and she looks up at me, smiling.
“The day we met, you asked me when we left the building at the same time what way I was heading. I asked what way you were going so that I could head the opposite direction to get away from you.”
“I know.” I smile, watching her face soften.
“I knew then that there was something about you,” she says quietly, leaning up to kiss the underside of my jaw. “I just didn’t know I was going to like you as much as I do.”
“Don’t say shit like that to me when we’re outside, baby.”
“What?” She blinks, stepping back, but I don’t let her get far. I tug her hand, forcing her back into my space so I can get my arms around her.
“When we’re outside”—I duck my head and nip her ear—“I can’t kiss you like I want to.”
“Oh.” She nibbles her bottom lip, then smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Thanks, gorgeous.” I lean back. “Now, what way are we heading?”
“To the left.” Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, we head down the sidewalk side by side. As soon as we reach the bagel shop, I pull a twenty from my wallet.
“I’ll wait out here with Muffin. Can you get me a plain bagel with cream cheese and a coffee?”
“Yes, but I have money.” She frowns at the twenty in my hand, and I shake my head. “I’m paying.”
“No, you’re not,” I deny with a shake of my head, and she takes a step toward the door.
“I am.”
“Fawn,” I growl, and she shrugs.
“You can’t stop me.”
“Dammit,” I hiss as she walks into the shop, leaving me no choice but to stay out front with Muffin.
Coming out a few minutes later with a paper bag and two cups of coffee, she hands me one, lowering her voice. “Don’t be mad.”
“Baby, if we’re out, I pay for you and me, not the other way around.”
“Is that some kind of rule?”
“Yes.”
“Why? That’s stupid. I can pay for our breakfast.”
“I’m a man and—”
“This isn’t 1950,” she cuts me off. “If we are in a relationship, paying for things goes both ways.”
“I don’t know what kind of men you have dated in the past—and I don’t want to know about the men you’ve dated,” I add quickly when it looks like she’s about to tell me about them. I know that would piss me off. “I’m the kind of man who takes care of a woman when I’m with her.”
“Whatever. Can we go?”
“Yeah, we can go once you tell me you won’t do that again.”
“Fine,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes. Giving up for now, I take her hand and head across the street to the dog park, where we find a bench to sit on inside the closed-off area and unleash Muffin to play.
“Miss Reed.” I hear a shout and turn my head to watch a girl, probably ten or eleven, running up to us in an oversize coat with her curly hair bouncing around her smiling face.
“Hey, honey,” Fawn says, surprised, as she stands and greets the girl with a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“We came to the park to hang out for a while,” the girl says with a shy shrug, then looks over her shoulder when a man yells her name. “Sorry, I have to go.”
“Is your mom here with you?” Fawn asks softly.
The girl nods, then adds, “Yes, and Juan.”
“Oh,” Fawn says, looking across the park. “Tell your mom I said hello.”
“I will,” she agrees before taking off at a run across the grass toward a woman who’s not dressed for the cold but wearing a skimpy dress and short leather jacket and a man wearing a dark suit and wool overcoat. Studying the guy, I realize why he looks familiar. Juan Varges is the main suspect in the murder of the prostitute that happened Halloween night. He’s also a well-known pimp and all-around piece of shit.
“Fuck.” My eyes meet his across the distance. I lift my chin toward him, letting him know I see him. He smirks, then lifts his chin in return before taking the girl’s shoulder and turning her away from us.
“Who’s the girl?” I ask Fawn’s back as she stares off across the park, watching the couple and child as they walk away.
“Tamara—she’s one of my students.”
“Is that her dad?”
“No, her mom’s new boyfriend,” she whispers, and I watch her hands ball into fists at her side. “I don’t like him.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Do you know him?” she asks quietly, turning around to look at me.
“Come here.” I pat the bench next to me and wait until she’s seated, then wrap my arm around her shoulder. “He’s not a good guy. He’s also a pimp.”
“Oh no,” she breathes, looking toward where the couple disappeared. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Baby.” I hold her tighter when it looks like she’s about to bolt.
“He’s around her, he picks her up from school almost every day . . . What if he—”
“Calm,” I command, cutting her off when I see she’s working herself up. “How long has her mom been with him?”
“I don’t know, maybe a couple months.” She closes her eyes, dropping her forehead to my shoulder. Fuck. I press a kiss to the top of her head, fighting the urge to tell her that I’m investigating him. I can’t—I don’t want her involved any more than she already is, and if she accidentally slips up and mentions it to someone, it could blow my whole case. “It will be okay.”
I rub her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her while raging inside. Men like Juan Varges believe they are above the law. They have the means and the power to control the people around them and will do whatever’s necessary to stay out of jail. This case isn’t the first one Juan has been a suspect in. One other woman from his stable has been murdered in the last year that we know of. And I say know of because most women who work in the sex industry are forgotten by their families. So if they go missing, no one realizes it until it’s too late.
“Can we go?” she asks, and my arm tightens.
“Yeah, baby.” I stand, bringing her with me. Taking her hand, I lead her to a garbage can near the edge of the sidewalk and dump our trash before walking toward the dog area where Muffin is being chased by a small Yorkie. Putting my fingers in my mouth, I whistle, then shout, “Muffin.” Her head swings my way, and her tongue lolls out of her mouth before she starts to trot in our direction.
“Did you have fun, girl?” Fawn asks, opening the gate and attaching the leash to Muffin’s collar before handing it to me. She bends down and sticks her hand through one of the slats in the fence to pet the Yorkie that followed Muffin across the play area. “Toby, you’ve gotten so big, look at you,” she coos to the small dog as he licks her fingers.
“Fawn,” a man calls behind us, and she stands and turns with me to face a guy with messy hair and glasses. He’s wearing a pair of jeans, a tee that has paint on the front of it, and a black jacket. Watching his eyes scan her as he gets close to us, I fight the urge to growl mine.
“Hey, Hank.” She smiles warmly, leaning up to give him a one-armed hug, since there is no fucking way I’m letting go of her hand. “How have you been?”
“Good, and you?” he asks, dropping his eyes to her hand in mine before he lifts his gaze my way.
“Hank, this is my . . .”
“Her man.” I stick out my free hand in his direction, and he takes it, squeezing a little too tight for someone who’s just a friend. “Levi,” I mutter, letting him go.
“I didn’t know you were dating someone. I thought you said you were taking a break from dating?” Hank says, studying Fawn in a way that says she obviously told him that and he was disappointed by the news.
“Oh.” She laughs, shaking her head. “I was . . . I mean, Levi and I, we live next door to each other, and this just kind of happened.” She raises our hands, laughing.
“Hmm.” His eyes slide to me briefly. “Did you get the invitation I e-mailed you last week?” She nods.
“Yeah, I’m going to see if Mac and Libby want to come to your showing with me.”
“Good.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, then runs his hand through his shaggy hair. “I’d love to see you there.”
“Hank is an artist, and he has a showcase in SoHo after Thanksgiving,” she explains, tilting her head back to look at me. “He’s really very talented.”
“Really. Maybe I’ll go with you to check it out,” I say, wondering where the fuck that statement came from. I’d rather pull my teeth out one by one than go to an art show.
“It’s invite only,” Hank huffs, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.
Fawn frowns, then mutters, “Oh.” Smiling at that, I drop her hand and tuck her under my arm. My woman seriously has no fucking idea when a man is interested. “Well, we were just getting ready to leave. It was nice to see you, Hank.”
“You, too.” He steps forward like he’s going to give her a hug, but Muffin steps in front of her to block the move. Hank’s eyes drop to the big wolfhound, and he visibly swallows. “I’ll see you at the showing.”
“Yeah, see you then,” she agrees, as I give Muffin a scratch for being so good.
“Nice meeting you, Hank. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” I lift my chin to him, and his eyes narrow.
“Yeah, see ya,” he mutters, walking to the gate and opening it, then bending down to pick up the Yorkie Muffin was playing with.
“So you and Hank?” I ask as we head toward the park exit with Muffin walking in front of us.
“Me and Hank?” she asks, and I drop my eyes to meet hers.
“Yeah, have you ever dated that guy?”
“Um, no.” She shakes her head, scrunching up her face. “He’s just a friend—well, we kind of know each other from the dog park.”
“Has he asked you out?”
“No. I mean, he’s asked me to coffee before, but that’s all, we’ve never dated.”
“He’s into you.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Baby, I’m a man, and as a man, I can tell you that guy is interested in you and was definitely upset that you’re no longer available.”
“Really?” She bites her lip, studying me.
“Yeah, baby, really,” I say softly, and she frowns.
“I had no idea,” she mumbles.
“You wouldn’t know, because you’ve got no idea how beautiful you are,” I state, rubbing my thumb over the pulse of her wrist, feeling it speed up.
“I . . .”
“You’re gorgeous, and this sweet, unassuming thing you’ve got going on is a breath of fresh air to men like me and Hank, who are surrounded by women who’ve got nothing more to offer than a pretty face.”
“Um . . .” She drops her gaze from mine, and I smile. Most women who look like Fawn does would be using that beauty to get their way, but not her. No, she doesn’t even understand the power she has or when a man is interested in her. For me that shit is priceless and the exact thing that has drawn me to her from the beginning.
“Just so you know, you and Hank will never happen,” I inform her and feel her eyes on me, so I drop mine to look at her. “You’re mine, and I don’t share. He missed his chance when he didn’t step up to the plate like a man and straight up ask you out.”
“I . . . I was never interested in him.”
“Good to know, seeing how he’s going to try to convince you otherwise when you go to his showing.”
“What?” she asks as we head down the block toward our building.
“He made it pretty clear that I wasn’t invited to his showing—that right there tells me he plans on using that time alone with you as a way in.”
“I’m not . . .” She pauses, shaking her head again. “I don’t even like him like that. I don’t even really know him.”
“That’s good, considering you’re already in a relationship.” I smile, dropping her hand to press in the code for the door and holding it open for her to enter before me.
“Remember when I told you this morning that you were frustrating?” she asks, stomping up the stairs, and my smile turns into a grin. “Well, that still stands, but you’re also annoying.” I’m chuckling at that as we stop outside her door and unhook Muffin’s leash while she unlocks the door and pushes it open. Going in behind her, I head to the kitchen to put down some fresh water for Muffin while she walks back into her bedroom, coming out a few minutes later with a bag of laundry that’s almost as big as she is and a jug of detergent.
“I’m gonna run down and put this in the machine. I’ll be right back,” she says, muffled behind the bag, and I shake my head.
“If you really think I’m going to let you carry that shit down four flights of stairs, you don’t know me at all. Drop it, babe. I’ll take it down for you while you feed Muffin.”
“No,” she huffs moving to the door, not seeing that I’ve stepped in front of her because the damn bag in her arms is at least five inches over the top of her head.
Taking it from her with ease, I watch her eyes narrow as I grab the jug from her hand. “I’ll be right back.”
“Levi, you are not doing my laundry,” she semishouts, trying to take the bag from me.
“And you’re not carrying a bag of laundry as big as you are to the basement.”
“I don’t carry it down the stairs,” she cries, tossing her hands in the air. “I carry it to the top of the stairs, then let it roll down to the bottom.”
Staring at her in disbelief, I tilt my head back toward the ceiling, praying she’s not being serious right now but having no doubt that she’s done that exact thing each time she’s done her laundry. “What do you do if someone’s coming up the stairs when your laundry is rolling down?” I ask, and she presses her lips together before planting her hands on her hips.
“That’s never happened. I always make sure no one’s around.”
“I hate to point this out to you, but you are one of the most accident-prone women I have ever met in my life.”
“I’m not accident-prone,” she yells, and I lean in.
“You ran into me, literally ran into me, when you were running with your goddamn eyes closed,” I growl, and she bites her bottom lip.
“Fine,” she huffs. “You can carry it down for me, but I’m doing my own fricking laundry.”
“Fine,” I agree, hefting the bag up onto my shoulder before opening the door. Carrying the bag down the steps, I listen to her light footsteps on the steps behind me as we head for the basement, then mutter a curse under my breath when I see how fucking dark the room is where the washers and dryers are kept. The shit looks like something you’d see in a scary movie. I’ve never been down here, because I have my laundry washed and folded through a service.
“They need to get better lighting down here.”
“It’s fine; it’s always been like this,” she grumbles as I drop her bag on a yellow folding table near the door.
“It’s not safe.”
“The building is secure, Levi. Stop thinking like a cop for five minutes,” she says, opening the bag, pulling out an armful of laundry, and carrying it to one of the machines.
“I am a cop. Telling me to stop thinking like a cop is like asking a doctor not to save lives. This building is secure, but that doesn’t mean criminals don’t live here, or that people don’t give out the code to the door.”
“I give up,” she huffs, putting quarters into the slots in the top of the machine and starting it up before dumping in a cup of detergent.
“I’ll tell the super to put new lights in,” I say, looking at the one yellow bulb hanging in the middle of the room.
“Haven’t you ever been down here before?” she asks, looking over at me as she fills a second machine with laundry.
“Nope.”
“So where do you wash your clothes?”
“I send my laundry out. I don’t have the time or the inclination to do it myself.”
“They have that kind of thing?” she asks, and I smile.
“Babe, you live in Manhattan, one of the biggest cities in the world. They have laundry services.”
“Oh.” Her nose scrunches up adorably. “I don’t know how I’d feel about someone besides me washing my clothes. What if they’re a weirdo?”
“You don’t think that someone could come down here and pull your panties out of the dryer to sniff them?”
“Don’t say that,” she cries, looking horrified. “Now I’m going to have to sit down here while my laundry’s in the machine, because I’m not going to be able to stop thinking that someone is down here doing that.”
“You’ll worry about that but not about the fact that you could kill someone or yourself getting your laundry down here? Or the lighting in this room?” I shake my head, and her eyes narrow.
“I’ve been doing my laundry down here for over two years and nothing has ever happened, so I’m pretty sure I’m good, and besides that, until you came along, I had never been accident-prone. So maybe my sudden clumsiness is all your fault.”
“You did say I make you dizzy.” I grin, and she rolls her eyes.
“You are so full of yourself,” she huffs, picking up her jug of detergent and heading for the door. Following her up the first flight of steps, I watch her ass, then give in and toss her over my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she squeaks as I jog up the steps.
“We’re getting to the good part of the day.”
“The good part?” she asks, and I pull her down until she’s in front of me and her legs are wrapped around my hips.
“Yeah, the part where we spend a couple hours making out.”
“Oh,” she breathes as I push open the door of her apartment, taking her mouth while I carry her across to the couch. We spend most of the day there, only stopping to eat and go downstairs to change over laundry.