A knock at the door gives Teeka pause as she marches to her pig sty where suitcases and sloppy boxes await. “That’s probably my dad.”
“I hope he brought a vacuum!”
“You have one!”
“I’m not breaking my vacuum on your war zone!”
She goes to let him in, throwing her annoyance back over her shoulder at me. “It’s not that bad.”
“I saw chicken bones! With fur on them!”
Shrugging, “I forgot I left them under the dresser,” she opens the door to reveal a gorgeous, raven-haired viking-dude standing on our welcome mat in blue jeans and a navy, form-fitting, henley shirt. “You are not my father.”
He smirks, looking her up and down. “And you are not my ballerina.”
My eyebrows shoot up. His ballerina. Ohhhhhh. “Are you Troy?”
Sultry eyes shift my way and sharpen like he likes what he sees. “Mar?”
“Marion. Only Jack calls me Mar.”
“We’ll see about that.”
I blink, surprised by his cockiness. And pleased. This is who Jack set me up with? What does this mean? Am I to understand that Jack really doesn’t want me then, because Troy is the type girls loses their minds for. It’s not like he’s some wimpy guy who won’t cause me to get wet on sight. Those raised pecs, jeans-hugging thigh muscles, and dimples cutting into his smile are enough to make my nether region dampen and soften instantly.
Teeka wags her thumb back and forth. “Marion, where are all these hot men coming from?”
With heavy sarcasm I shoot back, “You are so smooth, Teeks, you know that? Queen Subtle, that’s you.”
An older man walks up, and throws a curious glance to the guy barring his way. “Teeka? I brought your Uncle Joe to help.”
She deflates, reality hitting her. Rehab is coming. No escaping it. She can try. And she just might.
I have no faith in this plan.
Troy steps inside, and watches the two men enter our apartment with grim determination.
He and I are eyeing each other. He definitely could carry a sword.
As they reappear with boxes, Troy realizes what’s happening and he jumps in to help. This takes me by surprise, and shows a side of his personality I wasn’t expecting. A guy that handsome being a well-mannered gentlemen, too? That’s damn attractive.
But he’s not Jack.
He looks…
Dare I say it?
Too young.
His skin isn’t rugged like Jack’s.
Would Jack carry those boxes?
He’d probably tell Teeka she should carry them herself to learn her lesson. The image brings a smile to my face.
As the last bit of stuffed cardboard vacates the premises, Teeka and I stare at each other. “I won’t miss you,” I tell her.
“Yeah, you will. But it’s okay, I’ll miss you a little bit too. Biatch.”
“Ugh.”
She waves her pinky and smiles an amused, “Wish me luck!”
“Stay in past the normal twenty-eight days!” I call out as the door shuts. “Stay in for ninety!”
Troy walks up, calm as he dials the phone. “Jack? If I’m going to live here, we need bleach.” His smirk is adorable as he throws me a wink. “Yeah, send a team with gas masks. Alright, bye.”
“You really think you’re moving in with me?!”
“I don’t think I am, Marion. I am.”
I kind of hate that he called me Marion. Why didn’t he have the balls to call me Mar again, like I warned him not to?
“Oh Troy,” I smile, leaning back and hooking my hands over my flat tummy. “I am going to walk all over you.”
“Ya think so, huh?”
“I know so.”
He grins. “Can’t wait.” Throwing his phone in the air, he snatches it before it falls as he saunters to my kitchen. “Got any pizza?”
“Dancers don’t eat pizza!” Except when they visit you in a hospital room under extreme conditions. “Ever!”
“You could use a pizza, Marion. You look a little thin.”
“I’m supposed to be this weight, you ignoramus. Men have to lift me!”
“I could lift you with my pinky.”
With those muscles, he might be right. “My lines are part of what I do. Ballet is not just dancing, Troy. It’s art!”
“If you were a painting, I’d feed you.”
My head flies back on my neck. “What a weird thing to say.”
“Welcome home, babe.” He walks over and sits on the couch next to me, thighs bursting at the seams with strength.
“Excuse me, Troy, but I’m no dummy. You do not get as ripped as you are without a healthy diet.”
“I work out so much I can afford to eat pizza, that’s my trick.” He touches my nose, and smirks at me, our faces really close. His eyes travel over my face and he hums approval before returning to his phone. “Even got the number in my favorites. Hey Peter, it’s me, Troy. I need a veggie pizza with pesto and parmesan delivered to a new address this time.” He rattles off mine and locks eyes with me as he adds, “I’ll pay in cash when you get here. See ya soon.” Hanging up, he grins, those dimples absolutely adorable.
“You’re on a first name basis with that pizza place?”
“Nah. But that would be pretty funny if I was, right?”
I stare at him. “This is going to be terrible.”
He frowns, which for some reason makes him cuter. “Have any beer?”
“Girls live here!”
He heads for the kitchen, muttering with a laugh, “Not anymore.”
TROY
M y face is shoved sideways into my pillow as I’m lying on my stomach, just waking up. Squinting at the blue sky out my open window, I exhale and remember where I am. It hasn’t settled in yet.
Jack had some furniture shipped over with my clothes. I’d sold it all before I moved in with him. He had no place to put it. Little did we know I’d be lacking a dresser again so soon.
I feel like a dick for needing him to buy one for me, but neither of us planned this. And he was right in his prediction.
Marion is not an easy woman to live with.
I’ve been here for six days so far, but she’s gone the opposite way I expected. Each day she speaks to me
