Chapter Five
This crazy chick standing just a step or two inside the doorway of my living room, who still hasn’t told me who the fuck she is, blurts out, “What in the hell is Shane Thoma, hockey player for the Phoenix Bears, doing here in my living room half naked, and with a boner to boot?”
Okay, so this intruder knows who I am.
Great.
Oh, and she saw that I was hard.
Double great.
Thank God that’s going away.
Hey, I can’t help it if I was having a sexy dream when she so rudely woke me up.
Speaking of sexy, this intruder, annoying or not, is pretty hot. She has on a fitted floral sundress that shows off her feminine curves and lean tan legs.
And though she’s clearly as irritated with me as I am with her, she’s cute in her anger.
Her pretty face is scrunched up in a wince of embarrassment at the moment, but there’s fire in what appears to be her vibrant green eyes, not unlike my own.
I also like the way the soft curls in her strawberry blonde hair bounce when she suddenly huffs and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Sorry,” she says, wincing again. “I didn’t mean to say that last part out loud.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I bet you didn’t.”
She sighs. “Seriously, though, no offense, but what are you doing here in my rental property? Did I win some ‘meet a hockey player’ contest or something?”
Okay, she’s being sarcastic with that last line.
So I reply with an equally snippy “Your rental property? Babe, I leased this place for the whole fucking summer. I think the more pertinent question is what are you doing here?”
“Sorry,” she replies sharply, “but you must have gotten your dates wrong. I have this place for the next three weeks. I even have my rental agreement saved on my phone to prove it.”
Sighing, I toss the throw pillow I was still holding back onto the sofa and say, “I have mine on my phone too. Clearly, there’s been a mix-up on the part of the owners.”
Pretty Girl uncrosses her arms and blows out a breath. “Should we call them?” she asks. “Or I guess we could just decide for ourselves which one of us wants to leave and then contact them for a refund or a credit or whatever.”
For some reason, I don’t want this girl to go. She seems…I don’t know. Kind of sweet, maybe?
Plus, she sure is nice to look at.
I wanted some time alone, but now I’m not so sure if I still do. Having someone to talk to and hang out with might be fun, especially a hot chick like her.
So I throw out, “Who says anyone has to leave?” I shrug. “I mean, we both just got here. It’d be a shame for either of us to have to take off already.”
She looks surprised as she asks, “You arrived today too?”
I nod. “Uh-huh, just a few hours ago.”
With a mischievous glint in her eyes and a chuckle, she says, “You sure were making yourself, shall we say, right at home.”
I have to laugh now, too, as she’s clearly referring to the glaring erection I had.
Hell, I’m really liking this chick. She has a sense of humor like mine. And she’s certainly handling this mix-up well.
Still, I feel compelled to say, “Yeah, sorry about that. It just, uh, happens sometimes, you know?”
“I know,” she says softly. Looking away, her cheeks turning the cutest shade of pink, she adds, “I’m sorry I was staring for so long.”
I take a chance and volley back in a teasing tone, “No worries. I get that a lot.”
“Oh my God.” She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Hand me a throw pillow.”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Because I want to throw it at you.”
“Okay,” I chuff. “You are so not getting a pillow.”
We both look at each other then and start laughing, because, really, this is a crazy situation we’re in.
Once we pull it together, I say, “Hey, you know who I am, but I don’t even know your name yet.”
“Willa,” she says. “Willa Avery.”
“Okay, Willa Avery. What are we going to do here? Like I said before, I think we both should just stay.” I pause, then go on when she doesn’t say anything.
“You know, let’s make the most of it. This house has more than enough space for two people, and we’re both adults here.
I think we can figure out a way to make it work. ”
Biting her lip, like she’s seriously considering it, she murmurs, “Hmmm, maybe.”
“Okay, so what’s the deal?” I prompt. “Are you up for sharing this place?”
Huffing, though not in any kind of angry way, more like she’s still contemplating, she finally says, “I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on, Willa. You know who I am, so you know I’m not a psycho.”
“Yes, but what if I am?” She raises a challenging brow, and there’s that spark of mischief in her eyes again.
Man, this girl.
I hope she stays.
Smiling, I tell her, “Hey, I’m willing to take my chances.”
That makes her laugh.
But then she’s quiet again, so I give her time to think it over some more.
Finally, blowing out a big breath, she nods and says, “Okay, I’ll stay. And I think you should too. But only under one condition.”
“Yeah? What would that be?” I ask.
“That you please, for the love of God, put on a pair of pants.”