Chapter 13 #2
Look who’s a huge fan? It’s written all over his face. Too bad Halsey is not going to let the man fanboy.
“Halsey Holmes. Holy shit. Is it really you?”
Mr. Gorman pays no attention to me while he fumbles to sweep his hair to the side and straighten out his pizza sauce-stained shirt.
In a calm, but firm tone, Halsey says, “My girlfriend is renting 2B from you, the one that got flooded.” Girlfriend? Um . . . okay. Wasn’t expecting that, but I have no problem going along with it if it means this problem will be fixed, so I snuggle in close, playing the part.
“Oh yes, 2B.” Mr. Gorman straightens up. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long. We’ve had some minor setbacks.”
“Seems like you’ve had a lot of setbacks. Are you aware of the dead rat that’s in her closet, stinking up her entire bedroom as well as the clothes she has hanging in there?”
“A dead rat?” He swipes his finger under his nose, fidgeting beneath the glare of Halsey Holmes. “I was quite unaware. I’m sorry—”
“Look at her, not me. Blakely is the one you should be apologizing to.” The snap of his voice actually makes my nipples hard.
“Right. Right.” Mr. Gorman looks at me and says, “I’m sorry, Miss . . .”
“White,” Halsey says in such a dark, menacing tone that I’m slightly scared and also, God, I hate to admit it, but turned on.
“Miss White, that’s right. I’m sorry about the dead rat.”
“So what are you going to do about it?” Halsey asks, challenging him, something I probably would have never done.
“Uh.” Mr. Gorman scratches the top of his head, the sound of his nails scraping across his dry scalp a complete wet blanket on the excitement rolling through me from Halsey’s take-charge behavior. “Well, I guess I can remove the rat.”
“You guess?” Halsey asks, brows raised.
“I mean, I will. I’ll be removing the rat because that’s unacceptable. And I’ll, uh, I’ll have the apartment cleaned.”
“Fumigated,” Halsey says.
“What?” Mr. Gorman asks.
“You will have the apartment fumigated.”
Mr. Gorman raises his hands as if he’s trying to calm Halsey down. “Now that’s not necessary.”
“Oh, you don’t think it’s necessary?” Halsey’s shoulders grow tense.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this angry.
Maybe on the ice before, but that’s different.
That’s adrenaline. This is . . . this is outrage.
He’s truly upset for me. And I disturbingly find it so hot.
“So what do you think is happening to the dead rat in her closet? It’s already been chewed apart by God knows what, which means there are probably fucking maggots everywhere.
In her clothes, around the bedroom. This is a severe health risk and you’re going to subject her to that?
My girl?” Halsey points at his chest. “Over my dead fucking body. So you either get her apartment fumigated and disinfected, as well as every last possession she owns in there, or I’ll be speaking with my lawyer and, when I say I have no problem spending the money to teach you a lesson, I’m not fucking kidding. ”
Mr. Gorman backs away, his expression completely stunned. “Is that a threat?”
“Yes,” Halsey answers with a sneer to his lip. “Fix it.” And with that, Halsey guides me down the hall and out of the apartment building. “You’re not fucking living here.”
“What?” I ask.
“There is no way in hell you’re going back there.”
“But . . . you told him to fix it,” I say, confused. Why make a big deal over fumigation if I’m not even going to stay there?
“Only because you need your things cleaned and disinfected. I’ll have my lawyer get you out of your lease and you can stay with me until you find a better place.
No way in fuck are you going to live here.
The guy is a fucking slumlord, the building is dilapidated, and you’re too fucking good to be caught dead in an apartment like that. Not happening.”
Umm . . . okay. Hard to fight with him when he says it like that.
When we get to my car, he’s shaking with adrenaline as he moves to the driver’s side and opens the car door for me.
I don’t get in right away. I can’t. Instead I turn toward him.
I want to calm him down. At least put an end to the tension in his shoulders.
“Halsey, I appreciate you protecting me back there, but I do want you to know that it wasn’t that bad. ”
“Wasn’t that bad?” he asks. “Blakely. The moment I walked into the building, I knew you didn’t belong there.
It’s old, dirty, uneven, and doesn’t even have a lock on the front door.
Anyone could walk into the building. Not to mention, I don’t trust that fucker to have a key to your place.
Do you know what men like him do? They walk into your apartment whenever they want, waving the landlord card.
I don’t trust the safety of the building, and I don’t believe any of the construction he’ll do will be up to code.
He’s a cheat, a sleaze, and cuts corners, it’s evident by the quality of his building. ”
“But it’s all I can afford right now.”
“My place is free. You can afford that.”
“Halsey,” I sigh. “I’m not going to overstay my welcome.”
His index finger slides under my chin, forcing my eyes on his. “Listen to me when I say, you will not be overstaying your welcome. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.” He takes a deep breath and the anger slowly begins to slide away as he says, “Please just consider it.”
When he looks at me with those pleading eyes, I feel myself bending to his will. “I’ll consider it.”
“Thank you,” he says before pulling me into a hug, a hug I was not expecting but I’ll take.
And as he wraps his arms around my shoulders, and I bury my head against his chest, I realize that this man has quickly wormed his way into my life.
When I moved in with Halsey—temporarily of course—I never would have imagined that scenario turning into this, where Halsey hugs me on the side of the road after threatening my landlord.
Even though Perry was a very good boyfriend, I don’t believe he would have given Mr. Gorman the same trouble, nor would he have laid out a set of demands attached to a threat.
Not that Halsey is my boyfriend or even romantically involved with me, but the mere fact that this .
. . friend—I think that’s what I can call him—is more protective than my boyfriend ever was, surprises me.
It’s astonishing how... safe I feel.
Cared for. Did I not feel that way with Perry?
He cups the back of my head, keeping me close as he quietly says, “I’m not sorry for what I said and did.”
“I know,” I reply.
He gives me one more squeeze and says, “I’ll never be sorry for sticking up for you, Blakely.”
He gradually pulls away, his eyes on mine as his fingers slowly glide down my arm until he’s not touching me anymore—but the feel of his hand touching mine remains embedded in my skin as I stare up at him.
Calm passes over us both, an understanding of our friendship. He’s drawing a line in the sand, at this moment, letting me know that I am a part of his life now and no matter what, he’ll never let anything happen to me.
It makes me feel special.
Like I have more than just Penny to rely on, like my roots here in Vancouver might have been disturbed when Perry left, but they’re growing back with Halsey’s presence.
With his hand pulling on the back of his neck, he studies me before saying, “Okay . . . well, now we need to go shopping.”
Okay, that was a change of subject. “What do you mean?”
“For a dress. We need to find you a dress for the wedding.”
“Oh . . . you don’t have to go. I’m sure that’s the last thing you want to do.”
“No, I do,” he says. “I’m not doing anything, and I want to help.”
“Really? In all the years I was with my boyfriend, he never wanted to go shopping with me. I doubt you’d want to do that as just my friend.”
“I’m saying I do,” he says with conviction. “So take me.”
Is he for real?
From the expression on his face and the seriousness in his tone, I’m going to have to say yes.
It might be nice to have someone with me, someone who could tell me what looks good and what doesn’t.
And he’s right, I need a dress. I’m not about to put any rat-maggot dress on, so a new one is in order.
“Okay,” I say. “But I’m buying dinner. Understood?” I point at him.
“We’ll see about that,” he says as he rounds the car and moves to his side.
Of course he’d say that. The man has chivalry tattooed to his heart.
I stare at myself in the mirror, feeling slightly nervous.
This is the first dress I’ve tried on after we spent about half an hour with the boutique owner of Luxe Closet, one of my favorite stores, walking around and pulling everything I thought might look good on me.
And to my surprise, Halsey pulled a few too, ones I never would have thought to try on.
He’s now sitting outside on a red velvet couch, waiting for me to show him, and that’s where I stand with the nerves.
The first is a black polka-dotted dress. With a spaghetti strap, V neckline, and a ruffle skirt that’s short in the front but long in the back, I thought it might be cute. It shows off my legs while still being elegant. My first choice.
Stepping outside of the dressing room, I hold my breath as I show off the first dress. I stand there, feeling slightly exposed as Halsey’s eyes travel up my frame, starting at my feet and moving all the way up to my face.
My assumption is he’s going to tell me I look good in every single one of these dresses because he’s the kind of guy who’d never want to make me feel bad.
Also known as the pleaser, I don’t think he’d ruffle feathers, so I need to watch his face closely to see if he truly thinks the dress is pretty on me or not.
“What do you think?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not for you.”
Oh . . . not, uh, not what I was expecting him to say, obviously.
I laugh. “Not for me?”
“Nope. Next.” He shoos me away with his hand, making me laugh some more.