CHAPTER TWO

 

With a file in hand, I walk into Nina’s office, diverting her attention from her computer. She smiles brightly at me.

“Hey, chirpy. What’s up?”

She’s commenting on the fact I’ve been in a foul mood all day. I have valid reasons. With a new neighbour living across the hall, our bedrooms connected, I’ve heard every movement they’ve made. It’s made me jump out of my skin, causing me to lose sleep. And, well, me and no sleep… not a good combination.

I couldn’t even complain to my landlord because, apparently, he’s their nephew. Being evicted right now would just be a kick in the teeth. I’m not sure I’d be able to cope if anything else were to happen.

It sucks because I don’t know how much more banging and drilling I can take.

“Did you go over Sir Fancy Pants’ file?” I ask her.

Sir Fancy Pants is a spotted, tabby-coloured cat that belongs to an eleven-year-old girl. It was brought in early this morning by her mother.

“No. Isn’t that the cat who belongs to that frantic young girl?”

“Yeah. I’m just a little confused. On his file it says he was brought in because he’s been humping their neighbour’s cat and they wanted him castrated.”

“Oh, that’s why she was saying he was hurting the other cats?” She laughs, her eyes twinkling in amusement.

“That’s the thing, after going over Haylee’s notes, I’m confused. She’s put him down for a castration tomorrow morning. But he’s a she and is around four weeks pregnant.”

“What?” She laughs, throwing her head back. “How the hell did she get that mixed up?”

“I know, right? This is her second mishap since she started two months ago. She should be able to tell the difference.”

“Maybe she didn’t look and just booked him in?”

This time I give her a ‘are you for real’ stare. “You know the rules. All animals brought in are supposed to be given a full examination. I’m going to have to have another sit down with her. Anyway, can you call the owners, explain Sir Fancy Pants is actually Lady Fancy Pants and is currently up the duff?”

“Okay, so let them know it’s their cat that’s the hussy. Got’cha.”

Laughing, I turn towards the door. “I’m finished. I’ll see you Thursday,” I call over my shoulder. Tomorrow is my day off and I plan to use it to get my flat back together.

Dad insisted on having everything new delivered. I reluctantly agreed, knowing it would be easier to let him win than to keep arguing. When he started insisting on me staying with them until he’d done some of his own security checks, I put my foot down. There were some battles worth fighting for.

Tomorrow is when everything arrives, the first delivery due at seven. I also have paint waiting for me at home, ready for me to give the place a proper makeover. It hasn’t felt like home since the robbery. I read an article online which stated that making changes around your home will help you with your way of life. I’m hoping that decorating will make the place feel brand new. It won’t feel like the broken mess I found it in four months ago.

“See ya, wench.”

I leave a note on my desk to remind myself to have a word with Haylee when I’m back, before leaving for the night. I only live down the road from the vets, so my tired feet only have a short walk ahead of them. Starving and too tired to cook, I stop at my local Chinese takeaway on the way home.

When I get back to my building the outside light is off, along with the hairdresser’s sign, which is usually blinding in neon pink.

“Great,” I whisper to myself, juggling my Chinese and bag to get my keys from my pocket. The inside is pitch black. I swallow audibly, my heart racing as I head up the stairs.

This is just perfect.

I’ve got three tubs of paint waiting for me and no electricity to even see it.

Just great.

I’m about to take the last step when a large, looming figure walks out from the right. A scream screeches from my mouth as I drop the bag of food and try to take a step back.

I realise my mistake too late and twist my ankle on the step below when I land on it too hard and off balance. Strong hands grip my biceps, stopping me from falling and probably crushing my skull in the process.

“Please, no. Don’t. You can have everything in my purse, just please don’t hurt me,” I scream, wishing I had listened to my dad when he’d told me to stay with him and Mum. Hell, I should have taken up my brother Mark’s offer to come stay with me. But because I’m too stubborn for my own good, I freaking declined.

“Please.”

“Jesus Christ,” a deep, husky voice says, as hands lift me a little to place me between mine and my neighbour’s doors.

“Ow!” I gasp, falling against my door when a sharp pain shoots up my leg. I forget about my potential mugger in front of me and focus on the pain.

“You okay?”

“Do you ask all the girls you’re about to attack if they’re okay?” I snap.

With no lights on, I can’t see him, but I do feel him take a step back. “I wasn’t going to fucking attack you. I was walking out of my flat to check on the fuse box.”

“Yeah right,” I reply sarcastically, but then what he says registers. “Shit, you’re the new tenant?”

“Yeah,” he growls, seeming annoyed. And he has every right to be. I just accused him of attempting to attack me.

“Why didn’t you say that?” I snap, feeling defensive.

“You didn’t really give me much of a chance before you started screaming.”

Oh, well, shit. He has a point.

“I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m jumpy, I guess.”

“Yeah, the, um… landlord said you were robbed or something a while back.”

I’ll have to thank Gina and Martin for sharing when I next see them. It doesn’t pass my notice that he didn’t call them his aunt and uncle. I guess he doesn’t want me to think he has special privileges and all that.

“Yeah. Um, why are none of the lights working?”

I hear him move, something open, and the flick of a switch, before buzzing echoes around the room and the lights turn on.

I’m stunned for a split second, blinking away the brightness. I’m about to ask what happened when the words get stuck in the back of my throat. My mouth gapes and I have to tip my head back to get a good look at him.

I have to be imagining him. I have to be. He’s so ruggedly handsome I could only have dreamt him up.

I stumble against the door in shock, wincing when I press down on my bad foot.

He’s… God, he’s really freaking handsome, and having grown up around a lot of good-looking men, that’s saying something.

He’s got ash-blonde, messy, unkept hair, and a strong, chiselled jaw covered in a weeks’ worth of scruff―a look I find particularly appealing. But it’s his emerald-green eyes, flecked with white, that leave me breathless. Thick black eyelashes frame them, making them seem even brighter.

I blink rapidly, feeling like my eyes must be deceiving me as I take him in. Hands down, he has to be the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’ve never understood the term, ‘come to bed eyes’, until now. Would they melt when he kissed someone, or would they brighten? My breath falters at the thought, picturing him kissing me.

Okay, where did that come from?

He’s got a strong build, muscles bulging in his white T-shirt, but not over the top like my cousin Trent, who works at a local gym. My mind wanders to how hard his chest would feel under my fingertips.

Even though you can clearly see he keeps in shape, it’s not from spending hours upon hours at a gym. He’s just that fit.

His tattoos snake up his arms and peek out through the collar of his T-shirt, making him look even sexier. Even his hands have tattoos on them.

His black tracksuit bottoms fit snug on his hips—and around his large thighs that look like they could snap someone’s neck.

I don’t even know where that image came from. But thanks to every male in my family always watching fights on TV, I’ve seen plenty of them to know that if the man in front of me ever wrapped those around someone’s neck, they would pass out.

He just excludes power.

“Are you okay?” he asks me.

My cheeks heat when I realise I’ve been standing there staring at him. He can’t hold it against me; he shouldn’t be that good-looking. It’s not fair. “Yeah. I, um—I’m going to… Yeah,” I ramble, before going to pick up my keys.

Wrong move.

I land on my sore ankle, end up twisting it again and stumble. I wince in pain, wishing the world would swallow me up.

This is embarrassing.

“Fuck,” I hear him mutter, before his strong arms wrap underneath my knees and behind my back and lift me off my feet.

“Hey! What are you doing?” I screech, my gaze on his tattooed neck. I’m tempted to lean in and press my lips against the vein pulsing there. It’s calling to me like a dry land calls for water.

If I didn’t think I was attracted to him before, I knew right then I definitely was. I’ve never had improper thoughts about anyone before. But his scent, the feel of his chest rising and falling against me, has my brain short-circuiting.

“You’re hurt,” he states, not looking at me. “Keys?”

“You can put me down. I’m fine.”

“Keys?”

Huffing at being ignored, and uncomfortable about being in some hot guy’s arms, I grumble my response. “On the floor.”

I also feel tense; not because he’s holding me, but because I like the way it feels to be in his arms. I don’t know what to think of that.

He looks around, before bending—with me still in his arms. He snatches the keys off the floor and opens the door. He flicks the switch on like he’s been here before, which surprises me. Even family still have a hard time locating shit in my place. And they really have been here before.

He moves with ease until he notices the empty flat. He looks around, confusion crinkling his forehead.

Roxy comes strutting over, wagging her tail excitedly and sniffing the new person.

“Roxy! Sit!” I order, wishing the ground would swallow me up when she starts sniffing around my butt—no doubt his… um, junk.

“The landlord said you’ve lived here a few years.”

Well, if it wasn’t already uncomfortable…

“I’m getting the place redecorated,” I comment, almost quietly.

“I can see. Um, let’s get you to my place―”

“What? No! Put me down. You can’t just take me to your place. I don’t know you,” I screech, trying to wiggle out of his arms.

Roxy barks but he ignores her.

His grip tightens as he ignores my pleas and walks me out of my flat, past my smashed-up Chinese, which I had been excited to have since I woke up craving it this morning, and into his.

Unlike mine, his is full of furniture. What surprises me is he’s building shelves from scratch—no Ikea bull where it says it’s easier, but it’s not. Instead he has a sturdy table with an electric saw and wood shavings all over the place.

Roxy runs ahead of us, making herself comfortable on a blanket near the covered TV set and settles down, resting her head on her paws.

Traitor.

“My name is Beau. I know you don’t know me, but I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to take a look at your ankle, get you an icepack and some paracetamol, and run down to the Chinese and order whatever food I just destroyed of yours. Is that okay?”

My mouth opens to argue, but nothing comes out as he sits me down on a round table he clearly also made by hand.

And why didn’t I argue? Because how can I when he’s being incredibly sweet, even if a little demanding.

“Thank you,” I whisper, staring at the top of his head as he slips my shoe off.

Hearing me, he lifts his head, his eyes piercing mine, and for a second―okay, maybe longer―I get lost in his gaze. Something shifts in his emerald stare and he clears his throat, breaking whatever just transpired between us.

The feather-soft touch on my ankle startles me. I can feel my cheeks heat as I look down, feeling at a loss for what to do.

And the silence… I’ve never been one to be quiet whilst in the company of others. It just feels stilled, awkward. My facial expressions also give me away, so it will only make the situation even more intense.

Another thing that’s startling is the fact I can’t seem to look away from him. He is immensely watchable—you know, being a walking, talking equivalent of a model you’d find in some raunchy romance novel.

“I’m Faith. My name, that is.” I inwardly groan at my ramble, feeling my cheeks heat further.

His eyes meet mine, crinkling at the corners as his lips twitch in amusement. “Hey, Faith.” He looks back down to my ankle, pressing into the tender flesh and making me wince. “It’s bruised and a little swollen, but it’s not broken. I’ll get some ice for it. It will help take the swelling down.”

“Thank you.”

He walks over to the open kitchen, grabbing a frozen gel compress and a towel. When he walks away, towards the sofa at the other end of the room, I’m confused. He rips the plastic protective sheeting off before turning back to me.

He moves towards me with predatory steps, his eyes narrowed as he considers me. I open my mouth but again, nothing comes out as he lifts me up, then walks me over to the sofa where he sits me down.

“I’ll be back in five with the Chinese.”

“Wait!” I call out. “You don’t have to do that. I dropped it, it’s my fault. I can just go get another.” I can’t; I’m totally skint and don’t want to waste another fifteen pounds on food.

“I’m hungry.” He shrugs. “And I was the one who scared you.”

With that, he grabs his wallet and walks out, leaving the door open so I can see into my flat. I’m tempted to go back, lock my door and pretend none of this happened, but the throbbing pain in my ankle prevents me.

And yes, the intriguing Beau is another reason.

I want to know more.

Oh, Faith, he’ll probably get you a Chinese and throw you back in your own flat. Hell, he probably just feels guilty for scaring you.

But even as my inner voice mocks me, I don’t believe he did it out of guilt. He helped me because he’s a good person.

By the time he comes back, I’m a nervous wreck. I don’t know what to do with myself. Do I sit back, make myself at home and come across as rude and overly confident? Or should I stay sitting with my back straight, uncomfortable, and looking an awkward mess.

My worries are answered when he pulls out some plates and forks, watching me intently.

“Sit back and relax. Eat your food, then I’ll take you across the hall. You need to keep ice on your foot for a while. Leave it on for twenty, off for thirty, until you fall asleep.” As soon as Roxy hears the word food, she’s up, walking over to him and sniffing the bag. “Lay down,” he orders easily, and Roxy, who never listens to anyone other than me, follows his command and lays down.

Not even my cousins, uncles or parents can get her to listen, and it’s them that take turns to walk her on the days I work long hours.

“Thank you for helping me. And for the dinner.” I smile shyly.

He looks like he wants to say something but shrugs instead, passing me a plate and fork before digging into the bag.

“I guessed what you liked by the smell. I’m sorry if it’s wrong,” he tells me sheepishly, handing me a container filled with Singapore fried rice.

“It’s my favourite,” I admit, and dig in.

I’m starving. I missed lunch today due to the walk-in emergencies. Susan even came in early to help, but it still kept me busy most of the day, which is why I was late coming home.

“Did you live around here before? Your Aunt never said anything when she informed me you were moving in,” I say, starting conversation and slipping in the fact that I know he’s our landlords’ nephew.

He looks at me from the corner of his eye before finishing his bite of food. “I moved around a lot due to work. The last place I lived in properly was half an hour from here.”

He doesn’t give me more than that. I bite my lip, wondering what to say next, but he jumps in to save me before I embarrass myself.

“They put up new security before I came. Is it working out for you?”

I smile at that. Martin had been beside himself when he found out. He reminds me a lot of my great-granddad before he passed. He just had that aura about him that screamed grandfather.

“Yeah. Martin even came to overlook the construction, making sure they did it right. He was a bear to deal with.”

A deep chuckle slips past his lips and I watch, transfixed on the laugh lines wrinkling his face.

My cheeks heat, as well as my chest, and I have to look away before I do something stupid like kiss him.

“He’s stubborn as hell. Have they caught who did it?” he asks. I feel my eyebrows pinch and my stomach drop as Noah is so casually brought up, and he frowns. “Sorry, none of my business.”

“Sorry, it’s still sore to talk about. It’s been hard living there knowing someone invaded my personal space, touched my stuff… Well, the stuff that survived.”

“Is that why there’s a ton of paint in your living room?”

“Yeah, I’m hoping it will help me see the flat differently, make it feel like a home again.”

Something passes through his eyes and for a few painfully long seconds, he doesn’t say anything. He seems to be taking something in or figuring out how to approach the subject.

Whatever was on his mind disappears because the look is soon gone and a smile forces its way on his beautiful lips.

“How about we finish this and then you ice your foot while I paint?”

“No! I’ll be fine, honestly. You don’t need to do that, it’s my own stupid fault for being so jumpy. I should have remembered you were living here.”

He shakes his head at me, his lips twitching in amusement. “You’d actually be doing me a favour. I’ve had a lot of energy to burn through since moving here. I’ve been working on putting stuff together here, but I’m done once I clean it all away.”

“You really don’t need to,” I tell him quietly, feeling a weight on my chest at his kindness and generosity.

“I know.” He smiles big, nearly blinding me. “But my uncle would have my head if I didn’t help you, and I really don’t mind. Plus, we’re neighbours now; we can get to know one another better.”

When he says it, a picture of us together runs through my mind. I know when he’d said get to know one another, he hadn’t meant it like that, so my cheeks heat further. I’m thankful he can’t read my thoughts. I’d probably combust.

“Okay. I can let you know about Maisy, the owner of the hairdresser’s downstairs. Trust me, you’ll need the downlow if you ever bump into her on a Monday.”

He grins, helping me up off the sofa. “What about your plates?” I ask when he starts to bend, no doubt to carry me into my flat.

“I’ll do it when I’m finished at yours. It’s fine. It’s not going anywhere, so stop worrying. Now come on, I need to know about his Maisy chick. Roxy, come.”

Roxy barks, gets to her feet, and heads home, where she goes straight to her food dish and sits. I giggle at her expression, knowing it must have killed her to sit through us eating. She normally pinches food off my plate when I’m finished, but not tonight.

And like he belongs, Beau places me down on the makeshift sofa I have shoved under my window. It’s basically a bunch of pillows my mum bought and blankets Nina’s mum got me, piled so I’ve got something comfy to sit on.

It does the job. It’s also been a bed since it was comfier than the air mattress Aiden bought me. I’d been so glad when my mattress had been delivered; my back couldn’t take it anymore. Tomorrow, my bedframe will arrive and everything will start going back to normal.

After placing me down, he moves off to the kitchen area, looking through cupboards for Roxy’s food.

It’s a few hours later, after watching him paint my living area, that my eyelids become heavy and I fall asleep.

If I had stayed awake, I would have felt him cover me with a blanket. I would have seen him start my bedroom, painting with the deep shade of purple I’d bought before the robbery.

And I would have heard him whisper goodnight before he left.