The Tenant (9 page)

Like maybe turn off the hot water.

She got out of bed and into her jeans and shirt. A sneak peak down the corridor showed Derek’s door was closed. He had to have changed the lock, if not the frame; she was pretty sure she’d done some permanent damage.

Quietly, she made her way out of the apartment and to the elevator. She was being a sneak and would probably have to endure a Scottish shower as well, but it was worth it to hear Derek’s yells when he was pelted with cold water.

She giggled to herself during the elevator ride to the basement. She sounded like a mad woman, but who cared? She needed a laugh! Before the building’s renovation, her father had shown her which water meter was hers, so she wasn’t in any danger of shutting off another apartment’s supply as she turned the hot valve off. She wondered if this was the moment to do a villain cackle but decided against it. Closed spaces had weird acoustics.

When she was done, she was so satisfied with herself, she even made a trip to the nearest pastry store and included a pastry for Derek in her order.

She’d poured herself a cup of coffee and was enjoying a bagel, perched up on the kitchen table, feet propped up on a chair, when a yell shattered the silence, followed by some seriously creative curse words.

She slowly chewed and swallowed her bite—mostly to avoid choking on her own laughter—placed the rest of her bagel by her coffee mug, and ran to the bathroom. “Derek? Is everything okay?” she asked, making sure to sound worried.

“Like hell it is,” came the reply from the other side of the door. “I gave myself a third degree burn. Where you running the cold water just now?”

Third degree burn? Ouch! Had she turned the wrong valve? “No! I was having breakfast. What happened?”

“Cold water went poof. That’s what happened.” She heard him turn the faucet on and imagined him testing the temperature again. “Are you sure you’re not doing something?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. Are you all right?” Her concern was genuine this time. She’d meant to annoy him, not physically injure him.

“Wouldn’t say that, no. I’m not blistering or anything, but I think it’ll take a while before I enjoy sex again.”

The image of him stark naked the first time she saw him came to mind uninvited, only this time his cock was red and glowing. Like Rudolf’s nose. She bit her lips together, trying not to laugh. “Is it serious? Do you need to see a doctor?”

“I’m not showing the family jewels to anyone, looking like this.” He sounded indignant, then resigned. “I guess some salve should do it.”

“I have aloe vera in the medicine cabinet above the sink.”

“Great! Now I’ll smell like a woman too, other than feeling like one.”

This time she let out a chortle. “Derek, I doubt you’ll let anyone close enough to smell…
it
, if it’s as bad as you say.”

He made a non-committal sound, but she thought she heard a hint of a chuckle.

“There’s coffee and bagels when you get out,” she said.

He was silent for a heartbeat or two. Finally he said, “Thanks.”

Amanda returned to the kitchen feeling…
bewildered
would be the correct word. She’d just had her most civilized talk with Derek, and it had been over his dick. Which she’d burned. If the day started like that, it could only get weirder. She shook her head and downed the first sip of her coffee.

Thick saltiness hit her tongue and the back of her throat instead of the sweet dark flavor she expected, and she spluttered the liquid out of her mouth.

As if the assault to her taste buds wasn’t overwhelming enough, Derek chose that moment to enter the kitchen in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. He looked good.
Really good.
Not for Amanda, of course; she liked her men more muscular. If he weren’t such an ass though, she might try to fix him up with her best friend. He seemed to be Becca’s type—tall, handsome, and available.

Except for the being an ass part.

Derek looked at her then the cup in her hand, and finally the bowl marked ‘Sugar’ that stood on the countertop, by the coffee machine. “Forgot to tell you. Sorry.” He actually looked contrite. “I don’t do sugar, so I put the salt in there.”

Amanda wanted to say she knew he’d done it on purpose—she knew her misery amused him—but one look at his ducked head, crowned with messy white-blond-tipped curls, made her reconsider. What was savory coffee when compared to mutilation by heat?

“I’ll survive,” she said. “That’ll teach me not to cheat on Sweet’N Low. I got a box in my purse.”

She stood, but he got to it first, grabbed it from the dining room chair where she’d left it and brought it over. “This it?”

“Yeah, thanks. And how are you feeling?” His torso was a weird pink color, but there were no blisters. Because she was only checking out his perfectly defined pecs and abs to assess the damage she’d caused. Luckily, it seemed to be minimal. She could only hope the same for the hidden parts of his anatomy. Not that she cared about the wellbeing of the specific parts; she merely didn’t want his castration on her conscience.

“I’ll survive,” he repeated her own words. “But I may have to go celibate for a while.”

That wasn’t too bad, if you asked her. Sharing the place with him would only get harder if he was in the next room fucking whomever he could get to put out, while Amanda lay in bed alone. “Good,” she blurted, and then tried for a save. “I mean, not good that you can’t, you know, have sex. But perhaps it’s best that neither of us brings—umm—significant others over while we’re living together.”

He leered at her, his tongue folded suggestively over his upper teeth. “What about
in
significant ones?”

She’d not caused any damage after all, if he could look at her this way. “We have to coexist. One of us having sexcapades while the other’s within earshot wouldn’t be”—she paused—“optimal.”

“And what would be optimal?” he asked, rounding the table toward her.

Was he flirting with her? Had she opened the door to a parallel universe when she’d entered the kitchen? “It would be optimal to
not
do that.” She tried to sound innocent, but her voice was a little throaty, her heart beating just a bit too fast. He couldn’t possibly be getting to her like that; she didn’t see him as a man. She saw him as a nuisance. A nuisance with the body of an Adonis.

She should be thinking of Mason’s muscular body,
his
long legs and wide shoulders and tight stomach and hard…

Derek stood right in front of her now, close enough she could see his irises had widened. He tilted his head to the side, licked his lips then opened his mouth to say something, but her purse started vibrating in her lap.

Thank God!
Amanda held out an index finger to him and rummaged through the contents of her bag with the other hand. She found her cell phone, looked at the screen, and winced.

The word “Baby” had never before freaked her out so much. She had to answer, or Mason might try the landline. She considered asking Derek to be quiet, but that might bring about the opposite result. She’d have to brave it.

She pressed the little green button and brought the phone to her ear. “Hey, you.” She was rather proud at how calm and loving she sounded.

“How’s my girl? How did the first night at the new place go?”

She cringed, remembering exactly how it had gone. “I’m fine. All’s well here. How are you?” From the corner of her eye, she saw Derek pouring out her coffee and filling two mugs with fresh, unsalted brew.

“I’m good,” Mason said. “Missed you the last couple of days and…”

She didn’t catch what Mason said next, because Derek was mouthing something at her. She gave him wide eyes. “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” she said to the phone.

“So, are you?” Mason asked.

She wasn’t getting what either man was saying. She shook her head at Derek and asked Mason, “Am I what?”

“Free for lunch,” he said, while Derek reached for her purse.

“Of course I—
hey!
” Derek had her purse tucked under his arm and was going through her things. The man had no sense of privacy! Before she could grab it back, his hand came out, clutching the Sweet’N Low. He held it up, a victorious smile on his lips.

“What happened? Everything okay?” Mason sounded alarmed.

“Yup! I thought someone was about to mug me, but I was wrong.” She glared at Derek and held up four fingers, ignoring his chastising look.

“Mug you?” Mason asked from the other end of the line. “Aren’t you at home?”

“I am. I am.” God, what a mess. “I meant Alice. She was going through my things.”

“I thought Alice was—”

“A brat? She is!”

Derek leaned back on the bench at the mention of her sister’s name and was looking at her questioningly.

She waved him off. “Listen, honey, I have some things to do now, but I’ll be free at about two. Why don’t we meet at the pizza place down the corner from your place? I’ve got a craving for pepperoni.”

“Okay. See you at two. Love you.”

“Love you too.” She said it under her breath, feeling too vulnerable saying the words in front of someone she barely knew and mostly hated.

Derek handed over her coffee when she ended the call. She took it without a word and offered him a bagel.

“So, I’m Alice now?”

Damn! Just when she’d convinced herself he’d let the matter go. “Shut up.”

“I guess my junk isn’t working for the moment, but I have a long way to go before you call me sister.”

She should have known he’d be on her case about it. “I haven’t—”

“Haven’t told your beau you’re living under the same roof with a hot male specimen?”

She felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Derek was all playful about the matter, but something told her he’d use their current situation against her if she confirmed Mason knew nothing about it. “He knows,” she finally said. “He just doesn’t know we’re this civil.”

Derek nodded. “And you wanna tell him when you see him, rather than over the phone.”

Yeah, sure, why not? “That’s the idea,” she said, and stuffed her face with more bagel before he could draw the conversation on.

Derek groaned in annoyance.

Amanda Murphy was a slob.

Today she hadn’t been a bitch, but that didn’t mean Derek had started liking her. Nope. She was still in his way, something to be dealt with.
And
she was a slob.

There was a bin on the kitchen balcony, clearly marked as “Paper for Recycling,” but not only hadn’t Amanda used it, she’d also left the paper wrappings of their breakfast right there, on the table. Next to her coffee mug, which she hadn’t even bothered to rinse. He grabbed the wrappings and tossed them in the bin, then wiped some kernels of confectioner’s sugar off the table.

He shouldn’t judge; his room was usually a mess. Still, he took care of common areas. Like, he’d never leave hair in the shower, for example. Not that she had, but if she left unrinsed mugs all over the apartment, who was to say that wouldn’t come next?

Derek had a vague sense he was blowing things out of proportion, but he had no reason not to. This was his house, he had an intruder, and the intruder was a slob.

He put her mug in the sink and glanced at the sugar bowl as he refilled his cup with steaming java. The sugar substitution idea had been a good one. He was sure he’d acted properly innocent, trying to warn her about the salt but unfortunately being too late. She seemed to have bought it.

He grinned. He couldn’t wait until she tried the orange juice. There was more cumin than orange in it. He grimaced at the thought.

In the middle of the living room, arms folded behind his head, he took a good look around. He needed to figure out his next move. He’d decided to avoid major attacks. He was better off going with little things, which would offer him plausible deniability and still manage to slowly work at bringing down Amanda’s morale.

Little things, like changing the first five channels on his television program to satellite porn. Following the on-screen action, he tilted his head to the side, then shook it. He had to focus. He could indulge himself later. With a sigh of regret, he muted the sound and averted his gaze from the screen just as two female nurses were giving each other a physical while their male patient watched and pulled on his cock.

Derek had more pressing business to attend to—for the time being, anyway. What to do next? He remembered the “Princess and the Pea” story. Nah. A frozen pea under her mattress would
not
get Princess Amanda running back to her parents’ house.

Replacing her mild chili powder for an extra-spicy one would make her gasp, though, and that might be interesting. He’d love hearing her gasp. Making her gasp. He hadn’t made a woman gasp in a while, and he believed Amanda would be loud.

“Dude. Snap out of it,” he said aloud.

He’d have to make a short trip to the supermarket later. But first, he’d have to plug the smoke detectors back in. Those things weren’t made for smokers’ apartments, which was why he’d broken the law and taken them down while he lived alone. With Amanda there, they would serve a higher cause—they could make for an interesting alarm clock at all times of the night.

He rushed to his room and grabbed his tools from the back of his closet. All smoke detectors reinstalled, it was time to loosen the curtain rod in her bedroom, so it would fall after she’d opened and closed the shades a few times. It was light enough he didn’t expect it to actually hurt her, but he wished he could watch when it finally gave way.

Tools returned to their place—because
he
wasn’t a slob—Derek slumped on the couch. It wasn’t enough. He’d have to do more. And he’d have to call a plumber. He needed a proper shower after all his scheming.

He reached blindly for the cordless, but his hand found something else on the coffee table. Tearing his eyes from the girls washing a car in nothing but their underwear on TV—was this a “Best of” episode?—he looked at what his fingers were touching and had his first ever
Eureka!
moment.