Popping the pan into the oven, she set the timer and raced into her bedroom to take a shower, having just enough time to get cleaned up before the muffins were baked.
She belted her robe after drying and wrapped a towel around her long, wet hair, piling it on top of her head. Leaning forward to wipe the condensation off her mirror, she jolted when the blast of her smoke detector screeched throughout her apartment.
“Jesus!” She careened out of her bedroom just in time to see smoke curling from her oven and the sound of pounding on her door barely heard over the screaming alarm. She raced to the kitchen and turned off the oven, throwing open the door and letting more smoke escape. Glancing down to the black, charred muffins, she cursed again before screaming, “Hold on!”
Sprinting to the apartment door, she tried to jerk the towel from her head to wave it toward the oven but it was stuck in her hair. Throwing open the door with her free hand, she expected to see Bjorn or Terri. She stared dumbly, not believing her sight. “You? Again?”
6
Griffin had climbed the stairs numerous times already that morning, glad his crew volunteered to help him move into his new apartment. Excitement vibrated through him. He’d lived in the same crappy apartment building for the past several years, saving money to eventually buy his own house. But when the owner of this Victorian home hired him to complete renovations, she’d eyed him carefully. He’d thought at the time that she just wanted to size him up for the job. But then, she’d smiled widely and leaned forward to pat his arm.
“Mr. Capella. Do you own your own home?”
“No, ma’am. I rent while saving to buy a house like this one day.”
“Ah,” she smiled. “You want to own a piece of history, too.”
Nodding, he agreed. “Absolutely. But until then, I work on these great houses and save my money.”
“How would you like to live in this house while you work on it? And longer, if you like?”
He blinked. “I don’t understand.”
She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Well, there are two upstairs apartments, and one is empty. Let’s take a look at it, shall we?”
He’d seen the upstairs when he first came to look at the restoration projects she had in mind. Now, he followed her upstairs with the idea of looking at a space to live in. It seemed nuts to consider her proposal, but the timing was perfect. One of his crew was recently divorced and needed a place to live. He could sublet to his employee and take this apartment as his own.
Just as he remembered, the door opened into a large living room with bay windows at the front of the house. Wooden floors, wainscoting, tall windows, high ceilings. In need of refurbishing, but gorgeous. A dining room opened into a well-appointed kitchen. A hall led to the back where a small guest bedroom and bathroom were on one side and the larger owner’s suite on the other.
They chatted about what was covered in the lease and the rent, and his excitement grew as he decided to move. As they stepped back to the stairway, he inclined his head to the apartment across the hall. “I assume you have a renter over there.”
“Oh, yes! A lovely lady, very quiet. You’ll find her to be such an accommodating neighbor, no bother at all.”
Of course, that had been before he’d had words with the woman complaining about the noise. Now, a month later, he was ready to begin work on the house and move in. He’d just made it up the stairs with a load of boxes when suddenly a fire alarm sounded, the screech reverberating off the wooden walls. Jolting, he dropped the boxes to the floor and bolted out into the hallway where the scent of something burning hit him.
Racing to the door opposite his, he tried the knob but it was locked. Pounding on the wooden door, he heard others racing up the stairs behind him. Looking at some of his crew, he yelled, “Bob! Go to the landlady and see if she’s got a spare key!”
Continuing to pound, he finally heard a female voice on the other side calling, “Hold on!” It took a few more seconds before the door swung open. The barefoot woman wasn’t short, but still, her head would tuck under his chin. A towel was falling from her wet hair, and a familiar, bright, multi-colored silky robe that hit her mid-thigh wasn’t tightly belted and gaped at the chest, showing a delectable amount of cleavage. His eyes stayed glued to her as she battled the towel on her head, finally jerking it off and waving it toward the smoke detector as smoke drifted from her oven. He wasn’t sure the robe would contain her modesty.
She finally got her hair pushed back from her face, grabbed her robe with her other hand, and stared wide-eyed. “You? Again?”
His gaze jumped from the smoking oven, which was the only reason he’d been able to drag his eyes from her cleavage. Now, he twisted his head to see the woman standing in front of him, her wide, clear blue eyes staring at him. Gut punched, he fought to catch his breath as he stared at the beauty in front of him. Truth be known, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since he’d seen her in the ER and then again in the restaurant. Even with a black eye, it was obvious she was gorgeous. And now she was standing in front of him, once more, unable to believe his eyes. “You live here?”
He didn’t wait for an answer as the alarm continued to assault his ears. He pushed past her and headed into her kitchen. Grabbing a potholder from the counter, he snagged the blackened pan from the oven, tossed it into the sink, and turned on the water. The pan sizzled as the cold liquid hit its overheated metal, but at least the smoking ebbed.
“Boss, you okay?”
Turning, he looked over his shoulder as Bob, Nate, and Andrew crowded just inside her doorway, their gazes locked on the woman still standing in a too-short robe looking both bedraggled and like a wet dream. Growling, he shot them a glare. “Yeah, yeah, go on and get the next load up. I’ll make sure everything here is okay.”
He didn’t miss their lingering gazes on the woman as they backed out the door and down the stairs. Turning around, he rubbed his chin as he eyed her gaze moving between him and her smoking pan. Not giving her a chance to complain about the mess in her sink, he asked, “You trying to burn the place down?”
Her lips pinched together tightly as she clutched the front of her robe. “I was making muffins to bring over to the new neighbor.”
“For me?”
“You?” she sputtered, her clear blue eyes widening even more. “You’re my new neighbor?”
He blew out a long breath. “One and the same,” he nodded, flipping off the water, staring down at the blackened lumps that he now knew were supposed to be muffins. Nodding toward them. “You always try to impress with culinary disaster when someone new moves in?”
His effort at mirth fell short as she flinched. “I was trying to be nice! I turned on the oven then went to take a shower—”
“You walked away from a hot oven?”
“I thought I’d have plenty of time.”
“So, what happened?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Slammed with the idea that she could have started a fire in the old house had his words rushing out.
A crease settled between her brows as she stared at the oven. Finally, a gasp slipped from her lips. “Oh, my God. I had the temperature way too high. Damn.”