“With jeans? No, thank you. I run a lot. I never want to run out because I’ve been too lazy to do laundry.”
She drops them back in the pile and pushes her hands through her hair. “I should have gone to my office instead. All I’ve come to find here is that you have a need to collect man thongs, have an excessive bin of condoms, and your decorating style is less than desirable.”
“What does that mean?” I take in my homey surroundings, pictures of baseball bats and gloves haphazardly hung around the apartment. “I like baseball gear.”
“Yes, that’s evident.”
“It’s better than naked women on the walls. Is that what you’d prefer to see?”
“I don’t prefer to see anything. I just want the key so I can go.”
“And I’ll have you know, I just replenished on condoms, and I’m holding out for the right woman so when I do have sex, it means something. In the interim, I will occasionally jack off with a condom on to help build my endurance and to avoid a mess. I’m afraid to admit it, but I’m a cum shooter. I’ve been known to shoot it so hard up the vagina, the girl can taste it.”
Blinks.
Blinks again.
Shakes her head and takes off toward the door. “I’ll be here all week. For the love of God, please leave me alone.”
“What about the key?” I call out, laughing at the same time.
“I’ll go back to my office.”
She opens the door, just as I spot the shiny red keychain Emory attached the key on.
“Oh wait, I found it.”
She pauses and I walk to the door, so close that my chest presses against her back. I reach over her shoulder to the hooks where I hang my keys.
“Here it is.” I smile when her eyes turn murderous. “Look at that, even when I’m drunk, I’m mindful of organization.”
She snatches the key from my hand without another word and walks out of my apartment.
“I’m going to need that back—”
She unlocks the door to Emory and Knox’s apartment in record time and tosses the key back to me before I can finish.
“Have a good night.”
The door slams behind her with a resounding boom.
“Sure, yup.” I wave at the door. “I’ll have a good night too. Why thank you, I do believe I look spectacular without a shirt on. That’s so kind. Oh, you’re going to think of me tonight when you touch yourself, you’re so—”
The door flings open and a shoe flies from one end of the hallway to the other, hitting me directly in the chest with a thump.
Oof.
The door slams again and I’m left there, chuckling to myself. I hold up the shoe and call out, “If you want this back, you’re going to have to come and get it.”
Teach her to throw a damn shoe at me.
With a smile that won’t quit, I shut the door to my apartment and go to my laundry where I start to fold it. God, that woman. I can see now why she and Emory are such good friends. And even though I’m not completely sure what she’s thinking right now about me, the sparring has made me feel . . . alive.
Like me again.
Glancing around my bare-bones bachelor pad, I start thinking about her comment. I haven’t been here long enough to make it mine yet—I still have some unpacking to do—but maybe there are things I can do to it to make the place more inviting. Dating has been on the backburner, once bitten and all that, but if I’m going to possibly consider looking for my someone, this place needs to feel like home.
Chapter Seventy-Six
DOTTIE
Even though it’s seven in the morning and I’m pretty sure Jason is still sleeping, given he has nowhere to be this morning, I still look out the peephole to make sure he’s not outside waiting for me.
Last night was . . . God, I don’t even know what last night was.
Irritating.
Annoying.
Educational?
And I hate to admit it, but just a tiny bit fun.
Okay maybe a lot of fun.
But I will say this, it will be a cold day in hell before I go back to his apartment and retrieve my tossed shoe. At this point, I’m considering it a loss. Or maybe, when Emory gets back, I’ll be sure to force her to grab it for me as payment for watching her stupid plants. It’s the least she can do for me. If I didn’t know Knox was very protective about their apartment and who enters it—rightfully so—I’d hire a plant-sitter so I wouldn’t have to deal with seeing Jason, but I think my escape plan will work perfectly.
With the coast clear, I sling my purse over my shoulder, slip my feet in my heels, and swing the door open, ready to make my—
“Goooooooooooood morning,” Jason says, louder than necessary, probably waking up the floors above and below ours. Where the hell did he come from? Was he just waiting there? “Don’t you look ravishing. That blouse really brings out the blue of your eyes.”
I couldn’t agree more, but I won’t let him know that.
Holding my hand over my racing heart, calming myself from being startled and running into his handsome face so early in the morning. Putting on the best front I can, I say, “What do you want?”
From behind his back, he brings my shoe forward with a coffee tucked inside.
“Shoe drink.” He smiles boldly, chest puffed. “Cute, right?”
Oh my God.
Why is he such a moron?
An adorably sweet moron.
A moron that keeps tempting me to laugh.
Hold it in, Dottie, hold it in.
But . . . shoe drink. I mentally chuckle. So stupid.
I sigh and take the shoe, pulling the drink from it and tossing the shoe behind me. I already locked the door from the inside, so I close it and give him a once-over.
Drenched in sweat, wearing slate-gray athletic shorts with a skintight Lycra shirt and a backward baseball cap, he looks all kinds of sexy—especially with his five o’clock shadow and cheery eyes.
“Were you waiting out there for me?”
“Yup.” He reaches to the ground and pulls up a water. He takes a quick gulp and says, “I’m friends with the door staff, who told me you hadn’t left yet, so I grabbed this drink for you because I’m a nice guy.”
He is. He’s too nice.
“Were you running?”
He wipes his brow with his forearm. “Is it that obvious? I told my glands to try to hold in the sweat but looks like they ignored me.” He stretches out his arms. “Give Jason Boo Boo a hug for the coffee.” I pin myself against the door, hand held out.
“Don’t come near me.”
He chuckles and falls forward, his arms propping him up on either side of my body. The heat coming off him suffocates me, making it hard to breathe. I can feel my pulse in my throat. His gorgeous eyes study me, and all I can think is how delicious he smells despite being a sweaty mess. He has an amazing deodorant and laundry detergent, because I could make a candle out of his scent, it’s that good.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he says in a deep, rough voice. “You seem to not like me and I don’t think I can handle that.” He glances at my lips and then back up to my eyes. “You see, I don’t like it when people don’t like me for no reason, so I’m going to need a valid reason why.”