“You’re … the landlord?” She sounded confused.
I nodded, putting out my cigarette. “And to get the apartment, you need a job. Obviously.” I scowled at her and walked into the kitchen to grab my shirt.
I’d had enough crazy for one day. I couldn’t handle pretty girls down on their luck and looking for favors.
“I have a savings account, you dipshit!” she snapped behind me, causing a grin to pull at my lips. Damn, she was feisty. Just my type. “I can afford an apartment over a bar.”
I grabbed my t-shirt and wiped the grin off my face before returning, fully clothed.
“Dipshit? Is that what you call your future landlord?” I queried.
Her eye twitched like she was ready to blow a gasket, and it riled me up. A sick part of me liked women like this. All uptight and feisty. It was fucking hot. I just wanted to loosen everything inside of her.
“I’m sorry.” She smoothed her dress. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Millie.” She extended her hand.
I decided to fuck with her some more, just to test her personality. “Ashton. Dipshit extraordinaire.” I didn’t take her hand.
Her face fell, but not in the way I expected. She looked like I’d just killed her cat. Her eyes went to the ashtray and empty whiskey bottle on the counter.
“You’re Ashton…” She gawked at me. “How long have you smoked?”
What in the…? Who did this woman think she was? “Okay, Mom, we’re done here. Run along and go shopping with your rich husband’s money or something.”
I gave her my back and stormed off into the kitchen to get the damn fryer working before Joe and my regulars showed up and decided to go somewhere else. Their sales were the only thing keeping me afloat right now and chicken tenders and nachos were part of the gig. Not to mention later tonight my family was coming by to “celebrate” one year of me having my donor heart. But it was also one year of losing Jenna, so fuck celebrating. I’d get hammered while they tried to tell me how to live my life. Still, I needed to cook up some decent food.
I leaned over the fryer, cursing Millie the uptight witch with the designer purse under my breath.
As I was checking the filter for clogs, she burst into the kitchen.
“Excuse me!” I yelled, completely aghast that she would barge in here like she owned the place.
She put up her hands in a sign of truce. “Okay … this went all wrong.” Her voice shook like she was going to cry or something, and suddenly I felt uncomfortable. “I just shut down my bakery, I’m in between apartments and I really need a break. I’ve got money, can I please just see the apartment?”
Closed her bakery…
“You cook?” I raised an eyebrow, still mashing the ignition switch and jiggling the trap in the hopes this fucker would light.
She nodded, stepping up and peering into the fryer. “Oil’s too low. Add more and it’ll work.”
I followed her gaze, and sure as shit it was nearly empty. Now I felt stupid. The wheels started to turn in my mind. Even if I sold to the laundromat, it would be forty-five to sixty days until close of escrow and that meant I’d have to feed myself for that long. Maybe this cook, or baker, or whatever, could help me out. Hadn’t she just said she was jobless? I’d put out a call to my cousin Richie this morning to see if he could help me out. If he said no, maybe I’d consider this annoying broad. Things weren’t boring around her, that’s for sure.
“You got first and last months rent?” I asked.
I could use the extra money, especially since my truck needed new tires soon.
I walked over to the cupboard where Cruise kept the fry oil and unscrewed the top.
Damn it was hot in here. Even the girl was starting to sweat.
She nodded, a trail of sweat dripping down her neck and in-between her breasts. “Yep. How much is rent again? This is like the tenth place I’ve looked at today.”
“Six hundred for the studio, includes utilities.”
She laughed nervously. “Perfect. I’ll take it.”
She hadn’t even seen the place! What kind of woman lived above a bar without even seeing the place?
A psycho, that’s who.
Chapter 4
Millie
What and the actual fuck was I doing? Julie was going to have me committed. This had gone off the rails so quickly I wasn’t sure what was really happening. When I’d walked into the bar and seen the dude with his scar on full display, I nearly fainted. First of all, why was he so good looking? Couldn’t Colin’s heart have gone to a sweet scrawny chess player? Not this tattooed bad boy who looked like he could bench press me. Secondly, he was smoking and a total fucking asshole. When he told me his name was Ashton, I’d short circuited. I’d somehow hoped he was a random bartender with a heart scar and the real Ashton was upstairs.
Now he was showing me the apartment above the bar because I wanted to live here? Oh my God, this was the most royal fuck-up of my life. What was I doing? Should I just tell him? Tell him who I was, and beg him to stop smoking and ask to listen to Colin’s heartbeat?
Yeah, right.
He’d tell me to fuck off and light up ten more. I could tell from this pleasant five-minute conversation with him that he was a stubborn asshole.
“So how soon do you need to move in?” he asked, walking out of the sweltering nasty kitchen and back out into the bar. If the inspector came, they’d be shut down for the shape of that place.
Technically, I wasn’t in between apartments yet. My lease was up in a month and I hadn’t decided
