Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
CHLOE
A knock on the door has me looking down the hall before I answer it.
“Order for Brantley?” the man asks.
I nod, taking the food. “Thank you.”
After shutting the door, I take the food to the kitchen and start to unpack it. I’m surprised to find two different pasta dishes along with some bread. He even bought some chocolate dessert. My mouth is watering.
I set out the pasta and bread and wonder which one he meant for me. I feel bad that he bought me dinner, but I’m glad he did. I’m starving.
After several minutes, I hear his bathroom door open. I don’t look toward the hall as I go to the fridge to grab us drinks. Looking inside, I cringe. I drank all of his flavored waters. All that’s left is regular water.
I grab them before I turn back around. They fall out of my hand as I take in Brantley.
I can’t deny that Brantley is an attractive man.
He stands at six-four, towering over my little five-five stature.
If him being tall wasn’t enough, he has this dirty blond hair that is always a bit messy, but right now it’s wet, making him look like a wet dream.
What has me shocked, though, is the bare chest displaying every single muscle that he works so very hard for.
If I wasn’t already drooling, I would be as soon as my eyes land on the gray sweats hanging low on his hips showing that “V” that leads down to what I know has to be an impressive package.
Fuck.
I hate this asshole, but I might be willing to sample the product. I don’t have to like him to fuck him, right?
“You going to clean that up?” he asks, laughter in his voice.
I look down to find one of the water bottles had landed on the cap, busting it. There’s water all over the floor now.
“Fuck.”
Brantley steps toward me as I turn to grab a towel.
It all happens at once. My foot slips. I windmill my arms out as I attempt to catch myself. I can feel my body falling, knowing I’ve failed. I’m going to hit the ground.
My eyes fall closed as I wait for the pain I know is to come. It’s not my first time falling. I remember the pain well.
Only it doesn’t come. Instead, I feel a pair of arms wrap around me. It stops my momentum as I am pulled back up. My eyes open and find Brantley’s chest inches from my face.
What would happen if I licked it?
“Whoa. Careful. Are you okay?” he asks, helping me regain my footing.
I clear my throat. “Yep. Good.”
He nods. “How about you sit down and I clean this up?”
“I can clean up my own mess.”
I go to step away from him but find myself slipping again.
“Did you pick this tile specifically to create a fall hazard?” I ask.
He laughs. “No, but glad to know that’s all it takes to take you down. Sit. I’d rather not have to rush you to the hospital.”
I scoff at him but grab the island and make my way around to take a seat. I watch as he grabs a hand towel, cleaning up the water before heading down the hall. He comes back, washing his hands before grabbing two new waters from the fridge and coming back to my side.
“Why are you sitting there? Dig in,” he tells me as he takes the seat next to me.
“Which one did you want?” I ask.
He laughs. “This is family style, Chloe. You get some of both. I don’t believe in denying myself. You shouldn’t either.”
That speaks to my soul. I really did want both. I had hoped he didn’t ask me which I preferred. I didn’t think I could pick.
I watch as he spoons some of each onto a plate then hands it to me.
“I could have made my own plate.”
He snorts. “You weren’t moving.”
He makes his own plate then sits back.
“Are you going to try it?” he asks.
“I was waiting for you in case you paid the driver to poison it,” I tell him.
He laughs, taking a bite of the Alfredo pasta. He chews before swallowing. Then he acts like he is choking as he holds his neck.
“Don’t eat. Poison.” He gasps.
I roll my eyes. “You’ve made your point. No need to be dramatic.”
He laughs. “I like dramatic.”
The phrase has me pausing a moment. Of course the one guy I can’t stand likes dramatic. He would probably like all of my quirks too. Fucking universe.
I take a bite of my food, ignoring him. I start with the red-sauced pasta first. The flavors explode in my mouth as I chew. I let out a little moan.
“It’s so good.”
Brantley clears his throat. “Yeah. Very good.”
We eat in silence for several moments before he asks, “What happened at your place anyway?”
“You mean Mason didn’t tell you?”
He shakes his head.
“A pipe burst.” I try to leave it at that.
“Oh. That’s not as exciting as Mason made it sound. That sucks. Did you get your stuff from the old place?”
“Mason helped me grab what was salvageable. I’ll have to start a new book collection, but I’ll survive,” I tell him.
“That’s good.”
Another silence descends as I look around the kitchen. I see my keys on the counter along with my purse. There’s the mail I picked up piled up in three different piles. It’s a mess.
“I’m sorry about the mess,” I tell him. “I’ll clean up and be out tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to go,” he tells me.
“Come on. I don’t want to live with you, and I know you don’t want to live with me. I’m thankful you gave me a place to land and figure some stuff out, but I can’t keep putting you out.”
He sighs, rubbing his hand down his face.
“Look. I know we don’t always get along, but that doesn’t make you any less a part of our group.
When a friend needs help, and you are able to provide it, then you do.
You need help right now. I have a place you can stay until you find a decent place to live.
I do mean decent too. If you try moving into some low-end housing that is unsafe, I’ll come throw your ass over my shoulder and bring you back here.
Don’t throw yourself out of here because you think I don’t want you here.
I won’t even notice you are here. I’m home now, but only for a few days.
We alternate home games with away games, and I go to every single away game.
You’ll have the place to yourself more than you will have me here. ”
It’s in such a contrast to how we normally talk to one another that I have no idea how to react to it. How do you respond to the man you hate when he tells you that he refuses to let you live somewhere unsafe?
Maybe hate is too strong a word for a man like that. Strong dislike would work a little better.
When I don’t respond, he shakes his head.
“Do whatever you want. You’re a grown woman, but my home is your home as long as you need. I’m beat. You can clean up. Try not to bust your head open.”
There he is. The asshole I have come to know.
It’s like that one sentence rights what was causing me to start to panic. As if he knew I couldn’t handle him being nice to me.
He heads down the hall, leaving me in the kitchen. As soon as he is out of sight, I smile, feeling relieved. I really didn’t want to try to figure out another option. I’ll stay here for a little while. Maybe until the end of the season if I can’t find a place.
Yes, that will be the deadline. End of the season, and I have to be gone.
I can do this, but first. I need to be a more considerate roommate.
brANTLEY
Something is burning.
That’s the first thing in my head when I wake up.
Chloe.
I shoot up out of bed as I rush down the hall. I slide into the kitchen, looking for the fire.
I don’t see any flames, but I do see a lot of smoke.
“What the fuck, Chloe?” I curse, heading to her side to see what the hell she is burning.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wanted to thank you by making your breakfast, but I don’t cook often. I’m quite bad at it, actually. I don’t know what to do. How did it burn so quickly? I just put it in.” She sounds frantic as she speaks.
It’s adorable how flustered she is. I hide my smile as I look down at the pancakes. Then I look at the heat. She has it way too high.
Shaking my head, I take the skillet from her and toss the pancake in the trash before I toss the pan in the sink.
“Are you trying to burn the place down? Flood one place. Burn this one down. Do you want to not have a home?” I ask, joking.
Then I hear her sniffle. I close my eyes, regretting my words. We bicker like this all the time, but it was insensitive. She was trying to do something nice for me. I need to not be a dick.
“Hey, don’t cry. It’s okay. We can fix it.”
She sniffles. “I’m not crying. It’s the smoke.”
I let her have her lie.
Grabbing a new pan, I set it on the stove and turn down the heat to medium.
I look at what else she has going on and see the bacon.
I definitely am not letting her near the stove with bacon.
Moving to a side cabinet, I pull out my air fryer.
I set it up and get the bacon inside and cooking before I turn back to the stove.
“How do you know how to do this?” Chloe asks me, now leaning against the island.
I could tell her about the restaurants, but I don’t. Not now, not when they have nothing to do with the conversation.
“I love food. Eating it. Exploring it. My favorite part about traveling is you get to eat food from different cultures. It doesn’t even have to be from a different country.
I mean, you have food here that we are used to, but go to the Midwest and the cuisine is so different.
Then you go out West or down to Texas. Hell, different states in the South are different.
Different cities in the same state, even.
It’s wonderful to be able to experience that. ”
I wince to myself when I realize what I said. I revealed too much. Food has always been my passion, but we don’t talk like this. We bicker and fight. We don’t have deep, meaningful conversations.
“Oh. That sounds pretty cool. I haven’t really left Boston,” she admits.
“What? Really?” I ask, pouring batter into the pan.
“Yeah. Never really had a reason to, I guess. I really am sorry I burned the food,” she says as she rubs her arms.
“It’s all good. You can’t be good at everything,” I tease.
“Whatever. So I can’t cook. I never planned to be little Miss Susie Homemaker. Is that what you look for in a woman? Someone who sits at home and tends to your every need?” she sasses.
I smile to myself as I flip the pancake.
“Oh, you know me. Always has to be the center of attention. Didn’t you tell me that once?” I ask.
“I call it as I see it. Isn’t that why you go to all the hockey games?”
That’s a bit of a low blow, but she has no idea what has been going on behind the scenes. She doesn’t know how close to failing this team I really am.
“I like to support my players,” I tell her instead.
“They show you on the television at every game. You know that, right?”
I glance at her over my shoulder. “You watch my games?”
She rolls her eyes. “I watch the Boston Foxes games because I was born and raised here. I watched them play long before you bought the team.”
I don’t doubt it either. Chloe knows more about the game than anyone I’ve ever known.
She likes to act like she’s a ditzy girl, but she’s not.
Underneath all that red hair, she has a brain that goes a thousand miles a minute.
From the little time I’ve spent with the hazel-eyed beauty, I have a sneaking suspicion that she has a case of ADHD.
Most topics bore her, but give her one that she likes, and she will talk for hours and know her shit.
“Ah, before the downfall, huh? I’m glad you got to see them in the good days,” I say, using self-deprecating humor.
It’s nothing I haven’t heard about them since I took over.
“Sure, maybe in the nineties, but the team was steadily declining before you took over. You walked into a mess. Only time will tell if you have what it takes to rebuild this team and make it stronger.”
It’s not exactly a compliment, but it’s not a dig at me either. It’s refreshing.
I turn off the stove as I go to the air fryer, using tongs to put several pieces on both plates. Then I turn and hand her one.
“Thank you for breakfast, Chloe. It looks amazing,” I tell her.
She snorts. “Only because you made it. I should be thanking you.”
“Hush. Eat.”
I take a seat at the island and dig in. The food is pretty good. Chloe sets her plate down before going and pouring two glasses of orange juice. When she comes back, she pushes one in front of me. I nod, unable to speak with my mouth full.
After I finish my plate, I sit and let the food digest. She is still eating, so I decide to stay and keep her company.
“What do you have on the books for the day?” I ask her.
She swallows before turning toward me. “I have work.”
“Oh. What is it you do again? Marketing or some shit, right?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “I wish. I’m the assistant to the marketing director.”
I knew that but didn’t want her to think I remembered too much. Now I regret asking. She looks sad about her position.
“Not everything you dreamed of?” I ask.
“When I was hired, I was told I would be able to pitch ideas and possibly find a better position. It’s never going to happen. It’s a job, not my career.”
“I see. You should leave. Find something that you love.”
She laughs. “Spoken like a true billionaire. For us peasants, life doesn’t work that way.”
I cringe at how tone-deaf that must have sounded. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I only meant that she could stay here rent-free as long as she needs. I don’t want her in a job she is unhappy with.
I can’t tell her that, though. She would never accept it.
She finishes her food, placing her dishes in the sink. “I’ll do these later. Leave them.”
I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
I won’t touch them, but Vanessa, my maid, will when she comes by later. She doesn’t usually stop by when I’m not here, but I let her know I’d be here today and asked her to stop by and clean up a bit. I hope Chloe doesn’t get pissed about her stuff being organized.
I watch as she heads down the hall.
Yeah, living with Chloe is going to be interesting.