One Hit Wonderful (4 page)

The garage, if such an elegant old building could be termed such a mundane thing, was built of the same gorgeous brick as the house, and the same ivy climbed the walls. It looked as though it had once been an old carriage house, more at home on some East Coast estate than a small college town in Colorado. The wide bay doors were painted a bright white and covered almost the entire lower front of the building, with small windows across the top. Lily walked up and stood on her toes to peek in, but curtains shielded the view.

She dropped back to her heels and turned to Charles. “You think he actually uses this place as a garage?”

Charles had his hands on his hips, surveying the structure. “Doubt it,” he said absently. He looked up. “Wow, check out those windows.”

Lily tiled her head back and felt her jaw drop. “Wow,” she echoed. Windows took up the entire facing wall of the second floor, sparkling in the late-afternoon sun. “Talk about natural light.”

“No shit.” Charles had walked around the right side of the building. “They wrap all the way around the side.”

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to afford the rent,” Lily muttered, “unless the place is rat infested and drafty.”

“That’s what I love about you, Lil.” Charles wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “You’re such an optimist.”

Lily sighed. “I know, think positive.”

“That’s my girl,” he encouraged. “Where’s the door we’re supposed to look for?”

“He said the blue door around the side,” she said, and together they followed the path around the left side of the building.

“Blue door,” she said, and gave the knob a twist. It opened smoothly under her hand, swinging wide to reveal an enclosed stairwell, with another door on the opposite wall.

“That probably goes to the main space,” Charles decided, giving the door a soft thump. “Second floor, right?”

“That’s what the landlord said,” Lily replied, and started up the stairs with Charles behind her.

“It’ll be a pain in the ass to walk up stairs every day,” Charles commented.

“Yeah, but they’re nice and wide,” Lily countered. “And they look brand new. See the sawdust in the corners?” She pointed. “I think he must have just had the staircase added. The exterior wall is original brick, but the inside wall looks like new drywall.”

She stepped up onto a generous landing awash in light from the wide window set in the brick wall. “Nice wide landing, good light.” She looked at Charles. “The landlord said to just go on in.”

“Then let’s go on in,” he replied, and pushed open the door.

They stood for a moment in the doorway then moved as a unit into the space. The wide, light-filled, high-ceilinged, wood-floored space.

“Well.” Lily looked at Charles. “I’m hoping the landlord is insane.”

Charles didn’t look at her, he was too busy gaping. “Why?”

“Because that is the only way the rent is going to be low enough for me to afford it. And even if I can’t afford it, I may move in anyway.”

“I may move in with you,” Charles answered. “Will you look at this place?”

“I’m looking, I’m looking.”

The apartment was laid out like a loft, living space flowing into dining space, and dining into kitchen. The main living area was long, almost half the length of the building. The wall of windows they’d noticed outside provided ample light and a view of the park across the street. There was a wide ledge under the windows, almost wide enough to do double duty as a window seat, and Lily fairly salivated at the thought.

The room was divided by the kitchen island, a bar-height slab of granite with two high stools tucked under it on the living room side. Lily crossed over to the kitchen side and found more granite, the work surface slightly lower than the counter, with a dishwasher so new it still had plastic wrap on it snug amongst the cabinetry.

“I think these cabinets are cherry,” Charles said, running a hand along the satiny edge of a glass-fronted door. They lined the room, making the most of the space in the small kitchen. More granite stretched beneath them, broken up only by the gas stove with spider burners, the built-in microwave, and the stainless steel side-by-side refrigerator.

“This is unreal,” Charles said, his voice hushed with awe.

“Let’s see the rest of it,” Lily said, and led the way down the short hall.

Moving quickly, as though the apartment might evaporate around her if she didn’t, she pushed open what she assumed to be the bathroom door. She heard Charles whimper in delight as they took in the gleaming black-and-white tiled floor, and the garden tub tucked neatly under a window of glass brick that would let in ample light while still preserving privacy. There was a separate glass-enclosed shower, and when Charles pushed open the door, she wasn’t surprised to see a state-of-the-art shower system, with a rain shower overhead fixture and multiple spray heads coming out of the tiles.

Charles couldn’t even speak, his mouth working as he struggled for words. She left him gaping at the shower and stepped into the bedroom.

Almost as big as the main living room, it stretched the width of the building and had the same multipaned windows with the wide ledge on two sides, and the exposed brick of the exterior wall along the back. She turned to look at the interior wall and found built-in bookshelves lining the wall and a door, that when opened yielded a walk-in closet. A walk-in cedar closet.

“Of course it is,” she sighed.

Charles walked into the closet behind her and stopped dead, his mouth still hanging open. When he finally found his voice, he said, “If you don’t rent this apartment, I’m going to.”

“You own your house, Charles.”

“I’ll sell it,” he said. “This is a great fucking place, Lil. You gotta take it.”

“I know,” she said. “Do you think he’d let me paint in here?”

“You want to paint the brick?” Charles asked, horrified.

“Don’t be daft, that brick is gorgeous. And I wouldn’t want to paint the built-ins, all that wood is just too stunning to cover up. But the interior walls in the living room, and the bathroom.”

“Probably,” Charles mused. “Most places will let you as long as you paint it back when you move out. What are you thinking?”

“Something strong, like red or an apple green. Maybe periwinkle for the bathroom.”

“It’ll look great with the tile,” Charles agreed.

“It really will.” Lily took one last look around before heading for the door. “Let’s go find the landlord.”

Charles trotted after her as she strode through the living room. “Where is he supposed to be?”

“He lives here, I assume, in the front house.” She trotted down the stairs and pushed out the door. Gravel crunched as she hurried along the path as fast as her three-inch heels would let her. She looked over her shoulder and frowned. “Charles, are you coming?” she called.

“Yes, hold your—” He looked past her, and suddenly his eyes went wide and hands fluttered in useless panic. “Look out!”

Lily whipped her head around and barely had time to squeak in surprise before a great furry mass launched itself at her.

She went down in a heap, her head snapping back to collide with the ground. She managed to swallow the instinctive curse as stars exploded across her vision but wasn’t so successful when the furry whatever-it-was landed on her chest.

“Fuck!” exploded out of her with the rest of her breath, and when she managed to focus again, she found herself staring into the soulful brown eyes of a very large dog of indeterminate breeding. He apparently thought she wasn’t moving because she was playing dead, and tried to gain her participation in the game by swiping a giant paw at her head.

“Nice doggy,” she managed, and was rewarded with a delighted yip and a slurping kiss.

“Wow,” Charles said, and she looked up to see him standing over her, hands braced on his knees, staring at her new friend. “That’s a big dog.”

“No kidding,” she muttered, dodging more kisses. She wriggled one of her arms out from where it was pinned against her chest and tried to push the dog’s face away from hers. “Little help here?”

Charles merely grinned at her. “You said fuck.”

“I’ll say it again if you don’t help get this monster off me,” she grunted. “He must weigh a hundred and fifty pounds.”

Charles inclined his head toward the end of the driveway. “I’ll let him help,” he decided, and Lily heard running footsteps.

“Beau! Off!”

She thought the command was firmly given in a deep voice that commanded respect, but it didn’t have any discernable effect on the dog, who just grinned and licked Lily’s face again. Despite her increasing discomfort—the ground was hard, and the dog was no Chihuahua—she felt her lips tug into a reluctant grin. “Obviously you’re a highly trained, intelligent animal,” she told him breathlessly, and could’ve sworn he grinned back at her.

“Sorry, he got away from me.” Still hidden behind the sheer mass of his pet, all Lily saw was a masculine hand as it hooked into the dog’s collar. She drew in a shaky breath as the weight was lifted off her chest.

“Thanks,” she wheezed, and got a good look at her rescuer.

Holy Mother Mary,
she thought, and mentally apologized to her Italian Catholic grandmother for taking the Blessed Mother’s name in vain. But given the circumstances, she thought Gran would understand.

He was scruffy, but she’d expected that. He’d
sounded
scruffy over the phone. What she didn’t expect was how good scruffy would look.

He was occupied with trying to wrest the dog under control, who apparently thought the scolding he was receiving was part of the game, so Lily got to look her fill.

He was wearing ragged cutoff shorts that should’ve made him look like an extra in an episode of
Magnum PI
, but instead made his legs look long and strong and yummy. The ratty T-shirt had faded lettering stretching across a firm chest and frayed sleeves showing off very nice arms. Spectacular arms, really, muscles flexing and bulging as he struggled with the dog in a way that made her head go slightly fuzzy. She had a weakness for biceps.

She shook off a little shiver and let her gaze drift up. Dark brown hair with hints of red and gold floated around his shoulders in loose waves that lent a roguish air to the beach-bum attire. The organized, logical part of her mind noted that he needed a trim. Every other part of her sighed in feminine longing at the thought of tangling her fingers in that thick silk.

Her mind held on to that image even as she hurried to take in the rest of him. His jaw was strong and shadowed with several days’ growth of beard, his mouth was firm, his eyes a pale, almost translucent green, and his face would have been almost unbearably pretty if it hadn’t been for the nose. Obviously broken at least once before, it technically should’ve made him look…well, ugly. It didn’t. Instead it gave his pretty face character and charm.
And let’s face it
, she thought,
some serious hubba-hubba
.

She started when she felt a hand on her wrist, and whipped her gaze back to Charles.

“Need a hand?” he asked with a wink, and hauled her unceremoniously to her feet.

“Thank you,” she gritted out, and smoothed down her skirt. “How do I look?” she whispered.

“You have dog spit on your face,” he whispered back, choking back laughter.

She narrowed her eyes. “I hope those laugh lines turn into wrinkles the size of the Grand Canyon,” she hissed, and turned to face man and dog.

Man had managed to wrestle dog under control, and she jolted a little as she realized he was watching her.

“I’m sorry about Beau,” he said with an easy smile. “I’ve been in the middle of a project the last few days, so he’s been cooped up. He’s just happy to be outside again.”

“It’s no problem.” She looked at Beau, who sat with deceptive calm at his master’s side. “He’s a sweetheart. What breed is he?”

“Mostly St. Bernard, with a few other things thrown in to make it interesting.”

“That would explain his size,” she said. Determined not to swoon under the power of that boyish smile, she held out a hand. “I’m Lily Michaels. We spoke about the apartment?”

“Nate MacIntyre,” he said easily, and folded her hand in his.

The rough, calloused palm slid across hers, long fingers curling to brush against her wrist, and she ruthlessly battled back another shiver. Determined to stick to business, she gave him a small smile and pulled her hand free. It would undoubtedly be easier to think when he wasn’t touching her. “What are you asking for in rent?”

He shrugged, a slight shift of bone and muscle that had Charles moaning softly behind her. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

She blinked. “You don’t know what you want for it?”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw thoughtfully before breaking into a grin that transformed his face from ruggedly handsome to boyishly charming. “Not really.”

Cute,
she thought with a mental sigh,
but completely unorganized.
She kept the polite smile in place. “Do you think you might be figuring it out anytime soon?”

His eyebrows slid up toward his hairline at her tone, which might not have been as mild as she’d intended. “Probably get around to it,” he drawled, and she felt her blood pressure start to climb.