Chapter 4
“Aw, fuck,” Trevor muttered when he opened the fridge to grab his lunch only to remember that he didn’t have one. He forgot to go to the store last night. “Damn it.”
Looked like he was hitting the coffee truck today, Trevor realized, sighing heavily.
They never stocked it with enough food. He grabbed his tool belt and hardhat and headed for the door, already in a pissy mood at the prospect of starving.
His only hope was that his cousins and uncles bagged their lunch today so that he’d have a chance at getting a decent lunch today.
He hated competing with those greedy bastards for food, especially his uncle, who wasn’t above kicking everyone’s ass for a damn cupcake.
It was kind of pathetic, Trevor thought as his stomach rumbled, liking the idea of a dozen or so cupcakes for breakfast. Perhaps, he’d stop by Mary Lou’s on the way to work and pick some up.
He stepped out of his apartment, trying to be quiet and not wake up his little tenant.
It was kind of funny how after last night, he was more conscious of all the noise he made.
Before last night, he honestly hadn’t given it much thought.
He quietly closed the front door behind him and scooped up her newspaper so that he could check out the picture highlights from last night’s game.
He carried it to his truck, deciding that he’d be more considerate in small steps.
Halfway to his truck, he paused and frowned as he watched some asshole reaching inside Zoe’s car.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Trevor demanded, moving his ass. The man noticeably startled as he stood up. He took one look at Trevor and dropped the armful of CDs he was stealing before he took off at a dead run.
“Don’t let me catch you around here again, asshole!” Trevor called after him, wishing that he had the time to go after the piece of shit.
He walked back to his truck and threw his shit inside. He slammed his truck door shut, wincing when he realized just how loud it was. He hoped that he didn’t wake her up since he had a pretty good idea that she’d stayed up most of the night pacing.
There was a lot more shit in her life besides losing her job going on and he had no interest in finding out about any of it.
It was bad enough that he’d actually asked about her work drama, but that had only been because he’d felt bad about what he’d said.
He didn’t want or need to find out about any of the other shit.
He walked over to her car and cringed as he picked up her CDs.
What kind of sick bastard listened to Phil Collins?
God, this woman needed more help than he thought, Trevor mused as he collected her CD cases and tossed them in her car.
A dark frown crossed his features as he took in the soaked driver’s seat and the open window.
What in the hell was she thinking leaving the window down last night? Trevor wondered as he looked down at his watch. He didn’t have time for this, but he couldn’t just leave her car here knowing that bastard might come back.
With a resigned groan, Trevor walked back to the house and let himself in. He knocked on her door only to knock on it again a moment later when he didn’t hear anything. He was just about to run up to his bedroom to see if he could wake her up through the wall when her door opened.
“Zoe, I-Oh, God!” Trevor shouted, clutching his chest and stumbling back.
“What?” she asked, looking around anxiously as she clutched a large brown muffin against her chest.
With a shaky hand, he pointed at the offending item that she dared bring into his house. “What the hell is that?”
She looked down and frowned. “My muffin?”
“How could you?” Trevor demanded hoarsely as he shook his head in disgust.
“What the hell are you freaking out about?” Zoe demanded, looking around again, trying to figure out what was wrong.
“That shirt!” Trevor said, pointing wildly towards the Red Sox shirt that she dared to wear in his presence. “What the hell were you thinking?”
She sent him a look that clearly stated that she thought he was crazy. He inwardly snorted at that. He wasn’t the one sporting a fucking Red Sox shirt!
“I was thinking that it was cute and comfortable,” Zoe said, shrugging as though it were no big deal.
It was a big fucking deal!
Oh, God, he was going to be sick. He stumbled forward and snatched the muffin out of her hand.
“Hey!”
“I need sustenance to deal with this, woman!” Trevor snapped before taking a huge bite out of her muffin.
It took a split second before the taste hit and when it did, he ran past her and headed for the small wicker trashcan by her couch and spit the entire bite out, but that wasn’t enough.
The horrible taste was still in his mouth.
“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” she asked, worrying her bottom lip.
Trevor threw her a disbelieving look as he rushed past her into the kitchen.
He yanked open her refrigerator and nearly wept with relief when he spotted the full gallon of orange juice.
He grabbed the jug, tore the cap off and tossed it into the sink behind him as he started chugging the orange juice, hoping that it would take that god-awful taste out of his mouth.
“Okay, now you’re just exaggerating,” Zoe said, sounding annoyed, but the nervous look on her face told another tale.
He narrowed a glare on her as he finished off half the orange juice.
Gasping, he pulled the gallon away from his mouth and cringed when he tasted a hint of that terrifying muffin.
When she opened her mouth to say something, Trevor held up a hand to stop her and finished off the rest of the orange juice.
“What the hell did you just try to poison me with?” he demanded, still panting.
“Hey,” Zoe snapped, placing her hands on her generous hips. “No one told you to steal my muffin!”
“I needed nourishment after the scare that you gave me! How could you wear a Red Sox shirt in front of me?” Trevor demanded, jumping back when he spotted the large plate of dark brown muffins on the counter. “And what the hell kind of muffins are those?”
“Apple,” Zoe mumbled, worrying her bottom lip again.
“Apple?” Trevor repeated in disbelief. His eyes shot back to the things that had no business being called muffins and shook his head in disbelief. He’d never seen a brown, almost black, apple muffin before and he was a man who knew his muffins.
She threw up her hands in exasperation and let them drop by her sides. “I’m not a good cook. Okay? Are you happy now?”
He looked between the plate of muffins he swore just moved and her tee-shirt that needed to be incinerated and shook his head. “I’m truly at a loss for words here,” he muttered.
Zoe blew a strand of hair out of her face as she continued glaring at him. “Is there a reason why you came knocking on my door at six-thirty in the morning besides to remind me that I can’t cook?”
Trevor blinked. “That’s not enough?”
She growled and he couldn’t help but smile.
“Actually, I came back to tell you that you should move your car and to find out why you left your window down last night,” Trevor said, moving to fold his arms over his chest when something caught his eye.
His stomach growled viciously as he reached over and snatched an iced honeybun off her counter and ripped it open.
“Please help yourself,” Zoe said dryly.
“Thanks,” Trevor said, taking a huge bite of the delicious treat. As he ate the snack, he did his best to appear innocent as his free hand slowly made its way back to the pile of individually wrapped baked treats that she’d foolishly left on the counter for anyone to steal.
With a roll of her eyes, Zoe pushed the treats towards him. “Just take them.”
“Thanks,” Trevor said, grabbing them before she had a chance to change her mind.
As he ripped open a cherry pie and dug in, Trevor watched as she grabbed a plastic shopping bag and held it out to him. “Put them in here,” Zoe said.
His eyes narrowed on her and the bag. “Why?” he asked cautiously, afraid she was trying to steal his treats.
Just what kind of sick game was she playing?
“Forget it,” Zoe said with an exasperated sigh, heading back to her cabinets. As he snacked away, he watched her go through each cabinet and pull out yummy treats that caused his poor neglected stomach to rumble.
A few minutes later when all his treats were long gone and he was downing her last Coke, she handed him three shopping bags full of junk food.
“What’s this?” Trevor asked, taking them.
“I’ve decided to go on a diet,” Zoe said, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.
He visibly winced, remembering what he’d said last night and felt like an asshole all over again. “If this is about what I said last night, I’m really so-”
“It has nothing to do with you,” Zoe said, cutting him off. “I’ve just decided to make some changes in my life.”
Guilt was a real bitch, he decided.
“Are you going to my uncle’s for an interview?
” Trevor asked, hoping that she would go so that he could get rid of some of this damn guilt that he had over insulting her.
He still didn’t know what the hell he’d been thinking last night.
He’d never been that rude to a woman before and he’d dealt with some real bitches over the years.
If his aunt ever found out what he’d said. ..
Oh shit, he really hoped she didn’t tell his aunt.
Zoe shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”
“You don’t sound too sure,” Trevor noted, leaning a hip against the counter.
“I’m not expecting a good reference from my old boss,” she sighed. “I don’t think I’m going to find a job anytime soon, so you might want to start looking for a new tenant.”
That wouldn’t work for him, Trevor realized as he looked around the meticulously organized kitchen.
Not only would he still feel like an asshole for what he’d said, but then he’d be stuck with either one of his cousins living here or some tenant that would annoy the shit out of him.
He wasn’t about to lose his perfect tenant, not if he could help it.
“How about this?” Trevor suggested as Zoe picked up the plate of muffins and tossed them into the trash, “if my uncle doesn’t hire you, which I’m sure he will,” he’d make sure of it, “then, you can work for me.”
“Doing what exactly?” Zoe asked, washing the plate and putting it in the dish strainer.
“Cleaning, laundry, running errands, taking care of the lawn, shit like that,” he said, feeling quite proud of himself for coming up with the idea.
She narrowed her eyes on him. “Would I have to cook?”
God, no...
“Um, no, that’s okay,” Trevor said, clearing his throat.
“How much an hour?” she asked hesitantly.
“Eight bucks an hour?” he suggested, liking the idea more and more.
It would certainly free up his time and let him enjoy what little free time he had.
This could definitely work for him. Too bad she couldn’t cook.
“Actually, even if my uncle does give you the job, you can still have this one to earn some extra money.”
He could tell the prospect of having extra money appealed to her, but she was trying not to let him know.
“Ten dollars an hour,” she finally said.
“That’s highway robbery!”
“No, that’s the price for going near your dirty drawers.”
“Fine,” Trevor said on a long-drawn-out sigh as he pushed away from the counter. She did have a point, after all. “You can start after your interview.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding. “What do you need done?”
“I need you to go grocery shopping, do a load or two of laundry and a little light cleaning,” Trevor said, trying not to frighten her with the truth.
She’d learn soon enough what hell awaited her.
By the time she discovered the truth, she’d already be set on earning some extra money.
Plus, she was desperate for work, so she shouldn’t be complaining about his dump. Instead, she should thank him.
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Zoe murmured, pulling out a pen and a pad of paper. “Write down what you need,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’m going to need money for the grocery shopping,” she said, sounding embarrassed.
“Don’t worry about it,” Trevor said, taking the pen from her and writing his list down quickly. “You never told me why you left your window down last night,” he reminded her.
“The window came off its track again and I think it broke inside the door,” she said, trying to peek over his shoulder at his list. “I’m going to have to bring it by the garage today.”
He should just let her do that, but he knew how much those places charged for that shit.
“No,” Trevor said, shaking his head and handing over his list so that he could pull his wallet out.
“I’ll fix it over the weekend. Until then, place a few towels and a trash bag over the car seat when you’re using the car, otherwise, let it dry out.
You can use my rug cleaner to suck the water out of it this afternoon,” he said, handing her some grocery money.
He needed to move his ass now or he’d be late.
“Thanks,” Zoe mumbled absently as she frowned down at his grocery list. “You didn’t write anything.”
“Yes, I did,” he said, pointing to the only word on the notebook.
“Everything,” she murmured, lips twitching. “So helpful.”
“That’s just the kind of guy I am,” Trevor pointed out, knowing in time she’d come to realize just how lucky she was to have a landlord like him.