12. Chapter 12
Dane
Bringing Daria into my space is going to be the worst thing ever. I just know it. As I carried her sultry smelling boxes into my brother’s old room, regret punched me in the gut. What was I thinking when I offered to let her live here?
I guess maybe it felt like the right thing to do in the moment. But the me in that moment was na?ve. He never could’ve guessed that Daria would not stay relegated to her room, nor that her scented perfume would permeate every nook and cranny of my apartment.
It shouldn’t be a big deal—it shouldn’t . It’s just that I…like it. Way too much. And knowing I like the way a woman who hates me smells has conflicting feelings barging their way into my chest.
It’s uncomfortable. Unsettling. And sort of makes me woozy.
So I camped in my room the entire rest of Day One, hoping to get some shut eye before my flight tonight. As a commercial pilot, it’s important I’m rested before flying an aircraft full of passengers across the country.
But of course with her just across the apartment, my mind is racing.
What will she do here while I’m gone for the next three days? Will even more of my stuff begin to smell like her? I’ve put a lot of trust in this woman, allowing her into my home like this, but what if she’s some sort of ax-murdering maniac and I’ve missed all the tell-tale signs?
I roll over in bed and shove the pillow over my head with a groan.
I have got to get a grip. She’s just a person.
Just a regular, beautiful, infuriating person.
Plus, it’s highly unlikely she’s an ax murderer, considering she already made her rent payment in full.
I figure ax murderers’ bills are horribly past due with all their late-night extra-curricular activities and all.
A soft knock sounds on my bedroom door, jolting me from my pretend sleep. “Come in,” I automatically say. But as soon as the words come out, I panic and realize I’m in only my boxers. I yank the covers up over my torso and pray she doesn’t notice that I’m barely half dressed.
The door opens and Daria leans inside the room, one hand on the doorknob.
“Um, hey. I just wondered if you would mind if I used your laundry detergent until I can get to the store tomorrow.” Her gaze catches on the blanket fisted in my hands.
“It’s just…getting kind of late and I already changed into my pajamas. ”
She flicks a hand over herself, and my gaze involuntarily lingers on her long, tan legs. She definitely changed. Earlier, she had on jeans and a flowy top, but now she’s in just a tank top and shorts.
Yep. This is the worst.
The door creaks as she leans into it. “So…is that okay or…”
I blink away my stupor as I recall what she asked, then check the time on my phone.
It’s ten p.m., and I need to get up and start getting ready for work anyway.
A nap clearly isn’t happening. “Uh, yeah.” Clearing my throat, I sit up a little straighter.
“You can use the detergent any time; you don’t have to ask.
Just consider it included in your rent.”
Her eyes narrow the slightest bit as she shifts on her feet. “I’d rather use my own but thanks.”
Of course she would. Hers is probably laced with whatever addicting scent she’s somehow sprayed all over my apartment.
“Okay. Whatever works. But for the record, I don’t mind if you need to use things like detergent or dish soap. You were the one who insisted I not touch your things.” I smirk. “Remember?”
She moves a bit further into my room, crossing her arms as she does. “Well, forgive me for wanting to have some boundaries.”
“Hey, I’m all for boundaries. But this isn’t exactly a landlord, renter situation here.” I motion between the two of us. “I’m just a guy helping out a…mutual friend.”
I roll my lips together, wishing I could’ve just called her a friend.
But we both know she’s not that. When we first met, I wanted to blow past friendship with her, wanted to dissect her like an intricate puzzle and know exactly how every jagged, curved piece of her connected with the others. Then, somehow, I messed it all up.
“Do you always do that?”
I raise my gaze to hers. “Do what?”
“Help out mutual friends ? Invite strange, homeless women to stay in your apartment?”
Why do I feel like her eyes are laser beams burning through my skin? The way she assesses me makes me want to squirm. For whatever reason, I know my response matters to her, so I take my time coming up with one.
“No,” I finally say. “I mean…I try to help others, yeah. But not women, specifically. You’re not a stranger to me, though. I’d like to think that even if we aren’t exactly friends right now, we will be.” I swallow. “Eventually.”
Her pursed lips tip upward in what could almost be considered a smile as she lets out an amused hum. “You are awfully optimistic for a man I’ve been trying to avoid for the past three months.”
I hate the way my chest aches when she confesses that. But I don’t let her see that her harsh blows hit with precision. “Yeah, well. Guess I’m an eternal optimist like my brother.”
She shakes her head, backing out of my doorway. “Just another area where you and I are vastly different. Thanks for letting me use your detergent. I’ll get my own tomorrow.” With that, she closes the door.
I force out a harsh breath as I scrub both hands down my face. Look where my optimism and concern for others has gotten me. In a forced, close proximity situation with a woman who is dead set against accepting help from anyone—least of all me.
Daria was still awake when I left the apartment at ten thirty.
I gave her the key to the building, ran back through the security code, and told her to call or text me if she had any issues.
She listened but made sure to scold me at the end of my instructions with I’m a big girl, Dane.
I know how to lock the doors, but thanks for your concern.
Even now as I’m walking into the airport, I’m shaking my head at her frustratingly stubborn spirit. It’s not that I don’t admire a woman who is strong and capable—I do. My mom is one of the strongest women I know. Head strong too. But Daria takes independence to a whole new level.
She’s made it abundantly clear she doesn’t need—or want—my help with anything. When I told her I left lunch in the fridge for her, she responded with, “I can take care of my own meals.”
No thanks , no I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Nothing.
I’m growling under my breath by the time I make it to the crew lounge where I whip open the fridge door to grab a sparkling water. “Why can’t she just accept a nice gesture like she did earlier? She had no problem saying thank you in front of Briar.”
“Dude, who are you talking about?” Max appears around the corner, startling me.
“Sorry,” I say, popping the tab on my drink. “Didn’t see anyone else in here.”
“Seriously?” Max scoffs. “I’m a six two Italian stallion. Can’t miss me.” I shake my head and drop into one of the leather chairs in front of the big screen TV mounted on the wall. Max joins me. “So who is she and why can’t she just accept a nice gesture?”
His tilted smirk might grate on me if he was anyone else.
Max isn’t just a fellow pilot, he’s a friend.
One of the best, if I’m honest. We’re the two youngest guys working for this airline, both graduating at the top of our classes.
He’s pretty much the only guy I talk to at work, aside from a few flight attendants.
“ She is my new roommate,” I say, unable to keep the growl from my voice. “And she’s infuriating.”
He gives me a slow nod and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Since when do you need a roommate? Aren’t you on your way to being a self-made millionaire or something with all your real estate investments?”
I shoot him a droll look. “I can’t tell you anything, you know that?”
He laughs and pops my knee with his knuckles. “For real, man. Why is a chick living with you?”
I take a sip of my water and set it on top of my knee. “She’s my brother’s wife’s best friend and she needed a place to stay.” I don’t add that she’s the girl I met at the party he took me to so long ago. Not yet anyway.
Max’s eyebrows lift slightly. “Is she hot?”
I roll my eyes toward him and glare. “You’re not dating her.”
He brings his palms up like I caught him red-handed and laughs. “Easy there, killer. I was just asking if you’re attracted to her. Because if you are, that’ll make living with her a heck of a lot harder.”
An irritated huff escapes me as I run a hand over my hair. “Yes,” I finally admit. “I’m attracted to her.” It only takes a few seconds for me to sigh and tell him the truth. “You remember that girl I gave my number to at that party? During all that weird stuff with Laura?”
Max gives me a slow nod. “Yeah…that was like…a really long time ago.”
“I know. Well, that girl ended up being my brother’s girl’s best friend. She was the last girl I asked out and—"
“Wait.” Max grimaces and holds up his hands. “You’re telling me you haven’t asked anyone out in months? ”
I shake my head. It’s been more like a year; generous of him to assume I meant mere months. “No. I don’t want to mess up again.”
“Dude,” Max says, leaning down until he’s in my line of sight. “What happened with Laura wasn’t your fault. Her not taking no for an answer wasn’t on you. You did the right thing. I’m not sure anyone could’ve handled a situation like that as patiently as you did.”
He chuckles as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m honestly shocked you’d even agree to live with a woman after being stalked by one you only briefly dated. That’s brave, my man.”
“I know. But this girl, she’s…different.”
Max is silent for a few seconds. “How do you know?