Chapter 4
four
Olivia
T he vice-like grip on my arm loosens a tiny bit and I gasp in relief. Someone must have heard my landlord proposition then threaten me. My offer of partial rent wasn’t good enough. Gingerly, I run my fingers over my cheek. The bastard slapped me hard enough I saw stars.
“Let. Her. Go.”
The familiar voice of my rescuer sinks in. Oh, dear god no. Gabe is no match for my beer infused, huge landlord. His fingers press into my upper arm before he gives a twist and lets go. The sharp pain is effective and I yelp.
His eyes flashing anger and his mouth pressed to a flat line, Gabe takes a step closer. He jerks one hand toward the door. “Get. Out.”
My landlord retreats a step then crosses his arms and laughs. “My building. I got rights here. You’re the one who needs to leave. I got business with my tenant. She owes me rent.”
It’s like Gabe is moving in slow motion as he matches my landlord’s defiant stance. With a nod, Gabe indicates the check lying on the floor. “Your payment is on the floor.”
“That ain’t enough. She owes me another full month. And more.”
Gabe glances at me. I glare at my landlord. “I do not. My rent may be late, but it’s all there.”
“Late fees.”
Taking another step forward Gabe says, “Bullshit. Whatever number she’s written on that check is worth far more than this dump.”
“She signed the lease.”
How like the man to try to turn this back on me. “Only for three months,” I add.
“Plus an additional two months for the deposit. Being the generous man I am?—”
Gabe snorts, and my landlord glowers at me.
“—I agreed to you paying additional rent each month until the deposit is paid off.”
Pushing against the saggy mattress, I stand. Before I can confront my landlord, Gabe snatches the check from the floor and visibly relaxes his jaw to ask me, “How much time is remaining on your lease?”
The landlord reaches for the check and Gabe holds it just out of the man’s sausage-like fingers’ reach.
Where he slapped me with that heavy hand stings and the seriousness of this crazy situation is ridiculous. A brute of a man in smelly, unwashed clothes is facing off against the simmering power radiating from my well-dressed rescuer. I start to laugh. The sound is just at the edge of hysterical.
Gabe’s eyes widen for a second and bite my lip to control myself. Then he returns his harsh, narrow glare to the other man who says, “Three weeks. Give me the check.”
“No.” Maintaining eye contact, Gabe slowly rips the rectangle into miniscule pieces, wads them in his hand and stuffs the tiny ball into his pocket.
“That money is rightfully mine.”
Gabe shrugs.
“I’ll call my lawyer.”
When Gabe takes a slim leather wallet from the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket my landlord’s eyes light up. I’m sure he’s thinking he’s going to be paid off. Although I’ve been thinking of Gabe as a cinnamon roll kind of hero like in some of my favorite romance novels, right now he’s oozing power and determination. He takes a short step closer to my landlord and slips a business card from his wallet.
“My attorney will be waiting for their call.” He taps the card against the wallet then tucks it into the pocket of my landlord’s tee shirt. Oh, he’s good.
Gabe focuses on me as he returns the wallet to his pocket. “We’re leaving.”
My landlord finds his voice. “You step one foot out of this apartment and you ain’t never gettin’ back in. I’ll confiscate your shit as payment of past rent. It’s my right.”
Finding the necessary strength from somewhere deep inside me, I square my shoulders. “Fine. You do that. Probably how you furnished this dump in the first place.” Struggling to maintain my poise, I continue to Gabe. “I don’t have much. A couple suitcases of clothes. Some books. My laptop. It shouldn’t take more than maybe fifteen minutes to get packed up.”
He nods. “Let me know what I can do to help.”
My landlord moves into the living area and plops down onto the couch. The lumpy furniture groans under his weight. “I’m watching you. Don’t even think about taking anything that’s not yours.”
Rolling my gaze to the ceiling, I mumble, “Nothing here worth taking.” Then louder, “Don’t worry. Your precious furnished apartment will be just as I found it. Only cleaner.”
I don’t bother packing neatly, just throw clothes and everything else into my suitcases. Gabe uses a grocery tote to gather my stuff from the bathroom. It’s been awhile since I got groceries, so I don’t even check the kitchen. Knowing my landlord, he won’t do anything and the next tenant will be faced with a couple of containers of unrecognizable leftovers in the fridge when they move in. I should feel guilty, but I don’t.
My mind is focused instead on what the hell I’m going to do once I pass the threshold. No place to live. No job. Not a lot of money to survive on. I pause in my packing to look at the picture frame with a photo of my grandparents’ old house. That’s about as close to family as I have. The memory of a house.
This moment right now, is probably the lowest I’ve ever been. Yet I don’t feel the weight of despair I’d expect. Maybe I’m running on some strange adrenaline and I’ll crash later.
Gabe returns to the bedroom and holds up the bag for my inspection. He’s a bright spot in all this darkness, even though his actions shoved me into this downward spiral. I don’t blame him. Abbot would have fired me soon anyway. This dump I tried to make a home—I’m well rid of it. And the creepy landlord.
I can’t believe he propositioned me. Tried to get me in bed to in lieu of rent. A shudder tracks down my spine. I will never, ever fall that low. Ever.
“What’s wrong, Olivia?”
I lift my gaze to Gabe’s concerned expression and arch my eyebrows. “Really? You need to ask?”
His lips twitch. “I mean right this moment. Something changed in your expression.”
He’s observant, I’ll give him that. But I can’t answer his question with the landlord hovering in the other room. I shrug.
With a slow nod, he looks around the dismal room. “I’ll ask again later. The bastard out there is getting impatient. We need to leave. What else can I grab?”
Silent, I close the suitcase and stand it on the floor next to its mate. Exchanging the tote of toiletries for my laptop bag, I pull the suitcase handle up and start toward the door. My laptop is the most precious and expensive thing I own, and I figure if Gabe has it, my ex-landlord won’t try to grab it.
Gabe follows close behind me and to one side so his body is between me and the slob on the couch.
Pounding the furniture arm, the landlord throws out his final threats. “You ain’t getting back in, bitch. Go ahead and put out for that pretty boy. See how far that gets you. He’s just going to use you then throw you away, you fat bitch.”
Gabe lurches toward the couch, and I’m able to grab his arm. “He’s not worth it. Don’t get in trouble over me. Let’s go. I—we need to go. Now.”
Once he drives out of my old neighborhood, I release a great deal of anxiety on a long breath. There should be more worry, probably even panic rushing through me. Somehow this man calms me enough to start putting the situation in perspective.
I really want to be like Scarlett O’Hara and not worry about anything today. Tomorrow is soon enough to deal with the shambles of my life. “Gabe?”
“Yes, Livi?”
At his use of the nickname, delighted tingles dance in my stomach, and lower. How does just hearing his low rumble of my name make me feel so much? Especially when the last twenty-four hours has been spent feeling numb. Tugging on my shoulder restraint, I angle to face him. “Is the offer of breakfast still on the table?”
He blinks slowly then his grin appears. “If you will allow me, it will be my pleasure to escort you to one of the finest brunch restaurants in the neighborhood.”
“It’s not too fancy, is it?” I look down at my outfit. Even dressed casually this morning, I looked put together—well, as much as I ever do. The run-in with my landlord didn’t help my appearance.
Chuckling, he guides his car easily through the traffic. “Nah. It’s a family owned place. Down home and friendly. I’ve been eating there for years.”
The small eatery is charming and the staff greets Gabe with enthusiasm, confirming his statement. After being introduced to the owners we follow a waitress to a table. I notice the owner’s wife elbow her husband in the ribs and direct a sharp nod in my direction. Both are grinning when I glance back at them.
At the table, we order coffee and I glance at the menu. Without looking up I say, “So, you don’t bring women here often, do you?”
He chokes on his coffee and carefully sets down the mug. “Not really. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.”
Leaning across the small table, he keeps me from lifting my own mug. He’s so close I can see golden flecks in his dark eyes. Along with a bit of green sparkle. I could stare into his eyes for eternity but instead watch his throat as he swallows. “Why did you ask that?”
Instead of falling under the spell of his intense eyes, I glance over his shoulder in time to see two people peering at us from the kitchen. When they notice my attention, both grin and disappear. My lips twitch with amusement. “Oh, it seems everyone here is making an opportunity to stare at us. And grin like a bunch of matchmaking grannies.”
He grimaces and glances over his shoulder just as yet another set of shoulders eases into the doorway. Gabe must give this person a look, because their eyes go wide then she flashes a thumbs up along with her smile.
“Sorry about that. If you’re uncomfortable, we can leave,” Gabe says when he faces me.
I am uncomfortable, but not in the way he means. I grew up with people looking at the ‘chubby’ girl, so I’m accustomed to that kind of attention. Those smiles were filled with derision or crude jokes and taunts. It’s the unspoken approval that’s so different. That and knowing there are many who would question why such a handsome man would spend time with someone who looks like me.
There’s no sense of that here, though. All I feel is happiness and approval. I give Gabe a grin. “I’m fine. So, what’s good here?”
His shoulders visibly relax. “Best eggs benedict in town. And they’re generous with the hollandaise.”
That’s speaking my language. I love hollandaise. “I’ll have that.”