Sweet Little Bitch Page 4

  Fiona

  THE RED TOOLBOX I’D BOUGHT from the home improvement store yesterday didn’t have a flat head screwdriver. The picture on the box had said it included one but I had gone through the thing three times and all I could find was a Phillips head. And of course the bookshelf I had purchased from Amazon came in a box with thousands of pieces. It had said “easy assembly” in the description. This was where reading the customer reviews would have come in handy.

  Sighing I dropped the instructions in my lap and groaned in frustration. I had spent all day working on my bedroom. Unloading the boxes, successfully putting together a lamp I’d bought off eBay and hanging a frame that held several pictures over the bed that I’d found on Etsy.

  However, this bookshelf was slowing things up. For starters, I wasn’t that great with tools and assembly of furniture. Chantel was even worse. Climbing into bed and covering my head sounded appealing, but I’d just think about the list of things I had to do before everything was complete.

  I stood up before I got too comfortable sitting, walked out of my bedroom and down the wide hallway. Chantel had left early this morning for a three-day swimsuit shoot in San Diego. She came in late last night noticeably pleased to find out Mack was our neighbor. I didn’t admit it or mention it, but I didn’t mind it so much either. Not because of Mack though. It was his brother that interested me. He was Mack’s opposite. Even the gleam in their eyes was different. You could see honesty and kindness in Marty’s. Where Mack’s . . . you knew he was up for a good time with no promises. Chantel knew that, too, but she didn’t seem to care.

  Thinking about our neighbors, I realized there was a good chance they had a flathead screwdriver. The idea of seeing Marty again had me running my hand through my hair to fix it and glancing down at my clothes to see precisely how dirty I was from my day of moving.

  I dusted off my shorts and thought about changing shirts then stopped myself. Trying to impress Marty wasn’t something I needed to start off by doing. Instead, I went to the door and swung it open, and headed down the staircase toward his apartment before I could think about it anymore.

  Stopping outside his door, I took a deep breath and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear then reached to knock but stopped and rang the doorbell instead. They were nice doorbells. The chime was pleasant. It was silly to knock.

  The elaborate doors weren’t what one expected in an apartment building. They were breathtaking and ornate. It was the first thing I noticed when I came to see the place. I took in Marty and Mack’s door and observed how theirs was different. Each one was unique and restored from the 1920s. Oddly enough, their door had a more masculine look as if Stone had known men would be renting that apartment.

  Several minutes had passed while I studied the door and I realized it was longer than it should take someone to answer. I started to ring the doorbell again and paused. Mack and Marty either weren’t there, or they were occupied. I knew Mack managed a club downtown and it was highly likely he was working. But I had no idea what Marty did. Was his job one that held nighttime hours as well?

  Feeling a sense of disappointment for not seeing Marty when I should have been because I still didn’t have the screwdriver I needed, I turned and walked to the staircase. But before I reached the steps, the front door to the building opened and in walked Marty. It only took a simple glance and eye contact to know which brother it was.

  Pausing, I opened my mouth to explain why I was standing outside his door, but his pleased smile made me forget what it was I was going to say.

  “Hey.” His thick southern drawl made me a little tingly.

  “Hello,” I replied realizing I should explain myself. “I, uh, do you have a flathead screwdriver?” I finally blurted out.

  His smile grew into a big grin, revealing dimples that just about made me swoon. Have mercy this man was beautiful.

  “Yeah, I do.” He walked toward me and his door. “You putting something together?” he asked as he passed me.

  “So far I’m staring at thousands of pieces and several pages of directions. The actual assembly has yet to commence,” I admitted.

  He fiddled with the key and when the door opened he glanced back at me. “Come on in. Might take a minute to locate it. Mack used it last and he’s not good with returning things to where they belong,” Marty explained.

  Following him inside, I tried to distract myself by checking out the apartment instead of staring at Marty like a creeper.

  “It’s late. You going to work on it all night?” he asked as he headed toward the kitchen.

  “Uh, well, I had hoped to assemble it tonight. I have a checklist. This was the last thing on it for the day.”

  “It’s eleven o’clock,” he challenged.

  I glanced at the clock on his stove to confirm that. How was it already eleven? The last time I’d looked at my phone it was eight.

  “Wow, time got away from me. I can’t believe I rang your doorbell so late. Even if you weren’t here.” I was embarrassed knowing I could’ve woken them up. I hadn’t even thought to check the time.

  “Mack will never be in bed by eleven much less home,” Marty said. “I normally would have been here if I wasn’t working. But I doubt you’d have woken me,”—he looked up from the drawer he was currently looking in—“if you happen to need a hammer or nails at eleven some other time. But if it’s after midnight I’m not making any promises I’ll wake up for that.”

  He was teasing me. I liked it.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. What about a cup of sugar at eleven thirty at night?” I asked him.

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Depends on what you’re making to need the sugar. If it’s cookies, cake, or brownies and you intend to share them with me, then please come ask.”

  “I’ll make notes on this when I get back upstairs,” I told him.

  He was still grinning when he walked to the fridge and ran a hand over the top as he looked for the screwdriver. “There it is,” he said as his hand pulled away from the top of the refrigerator holding said screwdriver.

  As much as I wanted and needed the screwdriver, I knew I should be happier about Marty finding it. Instead, I was a little let down. This meant our time was up. I’d have to go back to my place and the bookshelves.

  “Thank you,” I said trying to sound relieved not disappointed.

  He didn’t hand it over. “No problem. Why don’t I grab a beer and follow you upstairs to take a look at it? Might be I could help you get it finished faster. Not that I think you can’t handle it. It’s just that two sets of hands might speed it up.”

  The brief moment of disappointment vanished. Suddenly working on my bookshelves sounded like the best idea ever and if it took all night I didn’t think I’d mind.

  “You would do that?” I asked. It was late. Didn’t he want to go to bed?

  “Yeah, I like putting shit together,” he said and opened the fridge to pull out a beer. “Let’s see if we can’t knock this . . . what is it we’re putting together?”

  “Bookshelves,” I said hoping that didn’t change his mind.

  “You’re in luck. I’m an expert on bookshelf assembly,” he stated.

  “You are?” I asked wondering how many he’d put together. Was he a reader?

  “No, I’m lying, but for a second you had some hope didn’t you.” He winked and motioned for the door.

  Let’s build those shelves.

  I laughed. Not because what he’d said was that funny but because he made me feel . . . happy. Most people didn’t make me happy. Happiness was not a big part of my life.

  Marty

  THE GIRL MACK HAD WANTED me to meet was typical. She was nice to look at, and she had that sweet country girl vibe. But she giggled a lot and batted her lashes so much I thought there was something in her eyes. I think she had been attempting to flirt and wasn’t sure how to do it just yet. I could have looked beyond all of that, but when I’d asked her about her major and she’d started talking about
how fascinating reality TV was I knew it was pointless.

  Mack got distracted throwing two guys out before they broke into a fight and caused damage, and that’s when I escaped. I’d been expecting to take a shower and go to bed. However, finding Fiona standing there when I walked into the building wearing a tank top with no bra and shorts, my plans changed. She looked like an angel. I didn’t know why she was there or what she needed but I knew I would find a way to spend time with her tonight.

  Looking for a screwdriver she needed gave me time to plan how I could prolong my time with her. I’d known exactly where the screwdriver was. The searching for it had been bullshit. Mack hadn’t used a screwdriver in years, if ever. I’d left it there yesterday after installing the cabinet organizer.

  Her relief when I suggested I help had my inner boy doing a fist pump, but I remained calm in front of her. As gorgeous as she was I could also see the fatigue in her eyes. She’d been working hard moving in and needed a break. And I was happy to give her the needed break. Even if I hated bookshelves and after putting together a set two years ago in my first apartment I swore I’d never do it again. Right now, I fucking loved bookshelves.

  I tried not to stare at her ass on the trip up the stairs to her apartment, but I was a guy and those shorts were tiny. It was a lot to ask of anyone. I managed to look away twenty-five percent of the time which wasn’t a complete fail.

  When we reached the top stair, I tried to shake off the image of her backside and focus on being a helpful neighbor. Fiona opened the door and glanced back at me. “It’s still a mess. I’ve worked all day on this place and it doesn’t show much.”

  “No worries. As you saw downstairs we haven’t gotten ours all put away either.”

  Fiona gave a half smile. “I guess it bothers me more than it should. I like things put where they go.”

  “Be glad Mack isn’t your roommate then,” I told her.

  She let out a short laugh. “I’d end up tossing him out the window.”

  “Not a bad idea,” I agreed.

  With a look of amusement, she turned and walked down the hallway. “This way,” she told me.

  Her apartment’s style was similar to ours but the layout had its differences. Glancing inside the rooms as we passed them I noticed she had a lot more in place than we did. Reaching the room at the end of the hall she inhaled deeply then stepped inside. “So you know, I fully expect you to run once you see this and I won’t blame you. Just leave the screwdriver in your mad rush to escape.”

  I entered her room to see all the different pieces in neat organized piles and the directions spread flat on the ground in front of them. Although there were a lot of pieces to this thing, she had it so neatly setup that I didn’t think it would take too long. I could prolong it but the exhaustion in her eyes made me feel guilty for even thinking it.

  “This doesn’t scare me. We can get this done in no time,” I assured her.

  “Are you serious?” She looked so hopeful I wanted to hug her.

  “Absolutely. You’ve got the hardest part already done. All the stuff is unwrapped from those annoying little packages and set out in order.”

  She smirked. “That is so not the hardest part.”

  “Sure it is,” I said as I picked up the directions. Reading over the first step I set the paper down and lowered to my knees to get the first pieces I needed.

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  “Have you eaten tonight?” I asked her continuing to work on step one.

  “I don’t think so. Are you hungry? I can fix you something. I have a few things in the fridge, but it’s limited. I haven’t had time to buy groceries.”

  Pausing, I glanced up. “I’ve already had something to eat but thank you. If you can’t remember if you’ve eaten, then I doubt you have. Eat something. I’ll call for you if I need an extra set of hands.”

  She didn’t look like she wanted to do that. She frowned causing her brow to crease. “I can’t let you do this all alone.”

  “This isn’t bad. Honestly, I’ve seen worse. Eat, please.”

  She chewed nervously on her bottom lip like she was torn between doing what I asked and worrying it was rude. As much as I’d like to just watch her, I knew the quicker I finished assembling the shelves, the sooner she’d get some rest.

  I went back to working on the shelves and she finally sighed. “Okay, but I’ll be right back. I won’t be long.”

  Good. I wanted to hear her talk and be able to look up and see her. She needed to eat though. Once I knew she’d had something I wouldn’t worry about her.

  She didn’t move right away but after I kept my focus on the shelves she finally left the room. I leaned back and watched her retreat down the hallway quickly. Grinning I went back to work. While she was eating, I needed to get as much done as I could. When she was back in here I knew I’d be distracted and any progress would slow down.

  The room smelled like her already. It reminded me of honeysuckle and lavender. Nothing too heavy, but light and soft. I liked it. The scent was appealing. Inhaling deeply, I got through the next two steps quickly. When she returned, I was moving onto step four and had the base work complete.

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding,” she said seeing the progress so far.

  She bent down beside me and set a plate of fresh fruit, cheeses, and some raw veggies in front of where I was working. “I would have brought you something more substantial, but cheese is the most filling thing we keep around here.”

  “Thanks,” I said reaching for a slice of kiwi and popping it in my mouth.

  “You’ve done so much already,” she added.

  “I told you I was an expert,” I said taking a piece of apple and cheese.

  “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.” And with those words came that smile. I took my time chewing up the fruit and cheese. I wanted to soak in the way her smile warmed me. Even the fruit tasted sweeter when she was smiling.

  After swallowing, I turned my focus back on the project. Staring at her too much would be weird. Explaining her smile was so fucking stunning it was addicting to look at was also too much right now. Instead, I got back to work, only taking a break to take bites of the food she’d brought me. It wasn’t that I was hungry but she’d made it for me, and I wasn’t about to act like I didn’t want it.

  “I guess you really didn’t need my help,” she said as she took a seat on the edge of her bed.

  “I’m sure I’ll need an extra set of hands during the last two steps. But this part is simple enough.”

  She laughed and the sound filled the room mixing with her scent. I couldn’t think of a place I would rather be at this moment. Or any moment.

  “I read over those directions five times and none of it seemed simple,” she said after she finished laughing.

  I shrugged. “I doubt you’ve had to assemble a lot of furniture in your life. Once you’ve done it a few times it gets easier.”

  “No, this is my first time with assembly needed on something this complicated.”

  I finished the bottom and reluctantly moved on to the last few steps. The sooner I was done the sooner I would have to leave.

  “Are you from Savannah?” I asked her wanting to know more about her.

  She inhaled deeply and let it out. “Yes and no,” she said slowly.

  I glanced up at her waiting on an explanation for that answer.

  “My father met my mom on a business trip to Spain. They married quickly. I can’t say it was for love. They came back to the US and moved into his home in Los Angeles. I was born nine months later and he moved them here for the rest of their brief marriage. He left us here when I was a toddler to return to his life in Los Angeles. Soon afterward, he filed for divorce so he could marry his pregnant girlfriend. My mother couldn’t take me back to Spain without a huge legal battle. She chose her life in Spain, and I was sent to live with my father and his new wife. My mom came and went. I was shuffled back and forth a lot.”

  Jesus. I had
stopped working on the shelves because my focus had been completely on her and what she was saying.

  She gave me a tight smile. “Sorry. That was probably more info than you were asking for.”

  “Are you in contact with either of your parents now?” I asked, thinking it wasn’t my business but I wanted to know about her.

  “Both of them,” she admitted. “But I only have a real relationship with my sister. When I think of family, Shay is all I consider.”

  “Where is your sister?”

  “She’s close to her mother. Shay’s mom wasn’t a bad stepmother. A farm girl from Virginia with stars in her eyes, chasing her dreams in Los Angeles. She hadn’t known Dad was married with a kid when she got knocked up with his second child. He’d met her at a bar in LA where she was waiting tables and hired her on one of his many business trips to LA. But that was short lived. When our father left her mother for another woman, she kept Shay. She hadn’t been willing to give up her child. He let them move to Georgia. I think he wanted her far enough away he could see Shay when he wanted, but she wasn’t in his life too much.”

  Shay grew up not too far from Savannah. She’s moving here in six months though. Not to my apartment but to the city.”

  I knew I needed to get back to work and stop asking questions but it was difficult. I wanted to ask more. Like where she went to school while moving back and forth between parents. And had she gone to college? Was she in college now? Was modeling something she’d always done? I stopped myself though. She was tired and it was after midnight. I’d make sure I’d find out more soon.

  Fiona

  SETTING THE LAST OF THE grocery bags down on the counter, I sank onto the stool and sighed. It was a cardio workout to get all those bags up the stairs. It had taken four trips. I’d rather run during the heat of the day than run up and down the stairs. Typically I wouldn’t have so many groceries, but my entire reason for going to the store was to but the ingredients to make cookies and brownies. Not that I knew how to make either of them. But last night I’d fallen asleep on the bed while Marty finished my shelves. And then he cleaned up the mess, covered me with a blanket, and turned off all the lights before locking up and leaving. It wasn’t a kindness I received often. A simple thank you seemed inadequate.