Jo Leigh - Daring In The City

“Not my brand-new refrigerator.”

“I didn’t think so.” She studied the high-end appliance some more. “That sucker is big. You can’t have much in there.”

“What are you getting at?” Luca folded his arms across his chest.

A very nice chest to go with his broad shoulders. And muscular forearms. She met his gaze. “Oh, nothing. Just making an observation.”

“Right.”

“Obviously this is the kitchen,” she said, ignoring his skeptical tone. “What are you going to do with the rest of this area?”

“Dining room, living room.” He nodded at the wide space between them and the windows then gestured to the right, past the staircase. “Powder room and an office.”

“Holy cow. It’s going to be gorgeous. You’re doing all the work yourself?”

“No. I’ll have help, but I’ll be doing most of it. My family owns a construction company, so it’s pretty much what I do.”

April nodded. Yep, that explained the muscular arms. She glanced around, imagining what she’d do with so much space as she finished her slice of pizza, which tasted amazing even though it wasn’t that hot anymore. The beer went down great with it, too. “I hope it turns out exactly the way you imagine it will.”

He seemed surprised, but she meant it. If there was one thing she understood it was that shit happened, even if a person planned everything down to the tiniest detail.

“Another piece?”

“Oh, I’m not leaving this crust,” she said, feeling slightly buzzed. “I’d heard about New York pizza and wondered if it was just a lot of hype. But, wow. For a while there, I thought I was going to be hauled off to jail without ever having a slice. I would’ve been really pissed.”

His smile made her chest warm. For all the grief she’d given him, he was being very hospitable. She sure wished he had chairs, though. Her legs were feeling wobbly again.

Leaning against the island, she took in the old white porcelain sink, what was left of the Formica counter and the fridge. It was really something, not a brand she recognized. Too big for one person, unless that person wanted to share. “You don’t have a microwave.”

“I will eventually.”

“The microwave Wes bought is probably a cheapo but you’re welcome to use it.”

“Thanks,” he said and tipped the bottle to his mouth.

She watched him drain his beer, as fascinated by the working of his jaw and throat as by her sudden instinct to touch him. Dragging her gaze away, she took another hasty sip of her own beer and found the bottle was empty. That might be for the best. The point of her visit hadn’t been to get buzzed or to sponge food off her landlord. She’d just wanted to make nice. And maybe do a little negotiating. She needed him to let her stay just a little bit longer, until she got settled and recovered from the shock of this scary predicament.

“I just want you to know how much I appreciate this,” she said. “You’re being really nice about everything, and well, before I go I just...”

The way his eyes narrowed made her rethink her approach.

“I think I would like another slice.”

He set her up with seconds of both pizza and beer and grabbed another bottle for himself. As she bit into her slice, she walked over to the large window that looked out onto Mott Street. “Café Roma?” she said. “Is that a good place for Italian food?”

“Yeah. It is.”

She looked back at him. “Since I’m in Little Italy I want to try something I wouldn’t find in St. Louis.” She’d thought he might offer some suggestions, but he stayed quiet. “It’s a very busy street, but I’m not hearing any traffic.”

“Special windows.”

“Triple glazed?”

He nodded, and once again it appeared that she’d surprised him. “It won’t keep out sirens, but for regular traffic, it works great.”

She took another pull of her beer, which made her feel a tiny bit dizzy. Maybe this would go better if she sat down. Looking around, she saw a big wooden shipping crate, which, according to the label, was filled with wine, a stepstool that she could have perched on except it was awfully close to the floor and a stack of boards. None of the options appeared very stable, and she figured she probably shouldn’t overstay her welcome, anyway. Which meant she needed to get on with things.

“Could you be a bit more specific about exactly how long I’m allowed to stay?” she blurted.

Luca’s eyes closed for a second.

“I’m just asking because, well, today really doesn’t count, what with me getting here so late. It would have been impossible for me to look for housing tonight, so what do you say we count tomorrow as day one? That will give me more of a chance to do some research and make some calls. That is, if there’s a place nearby where they serve cheap coffee and have free Wi-Fi?”

“Wait a minute—”

“I mean, all that was supposed to have been done by Wes. He was in charge of finding a permanent place for us to live. I have no idea where he looked, or if he even looked at all. And yes, I know it’s not your problem but I don’t have anyone to call or to give me tips or even a couch to sleep on.”

“April—”

“I’m not trying to get anything more out of you, honest.”

His lips pressed together, but he didn’t tell her to take a flying leap.

“Unless, I can?”

His deepening scowl said she was pressing her luck.

“But, no. You’ve been so nice already, and I don’t want to take advantage of you. Although, there is just one more little thing... Since Wes had paid for the next five days there should be a small refund, right?”

“He didn’t.”

“What?”

“He left without paying for the last week he was supposed to stay here. Which is why I figured he was gone for good.”

She sagged. But she would mope later. Instead, stopping to consider that she was lucky, under the circumstances, she pulled out a commiserating smile. “I’m very sorry he did that to you,” she said. Then a very unpleasant thought occurred to her. “That means I owe you for the two days.”

Frowning, Luca set down his beer. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. So, let’s see... Two days would mean...” She rubbed her temple, trying hard to do the math. “I’m usually good with numbers. I guess I’m just too tired. Would you mind doing the calculation and letting me know what I owe?”

“Look, April—”

“I won’t stay for free.” Before she even realized something was wrong, she had to brace her hand on the wood cabinet to keep from falling over. The dizziness passed as quickly as it had come. She guessed hearing yet another bad thing about Wes had made her head spin.

“You all right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Luca cleared his throat, picked up a tarp that had been folded neatly on top of a tool chest and draped it over the case of wine. “Travel days are the worst,” he said. “Especially by Greyhound.” He gestured for her to sit down.

She stumbled a little before she planted her butt on the makeshift seat. “No, it was okay. The problem wasn’t the bus, it was the lack of sleep even before I boarded, then not hearing from the jackass, then the elevator situation, then me almost going to prison and now you wanting to throw me out.”

He coughed, and she realized what she’d said.

She blinked up at Luca, who was watching her with a hint of a smile and an arched right eyebrow. Instead of questioning that look, she yawned. A real jawbreaker. Which let loose a wave of exhaustion that hit her like a tidal wave. “I really should go get some sleep.”

“I agree. I don’t think the beer helped, either.”

“No, it probably didn’t. I’m not much of a drinker, and I rarely have beer, although this one was really good.”