Not that Mom is any the wiser. She’s too high on life—and booze—to notice as she makes her way to the machine and begins filling it with beans.
“That’s an interesting comment,Emmett.”
My attention snaps back to Maria as she sets the remainder of the dishes down in front of him, lips pursed, eyes suspicious.
“Given, the last time I checked”—she tips her chin at the coffee machine, and Mom fires it up—“that’s the exact same model we used to have right before you ended our marriage.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BILLIE
The following day, my previously bad mood has not improved at all.
How difficult can it be for a landlord to fix broken cupboard doors that won’t shut? Three times I called him last night about ongoing issues, every one of my attempts being sent straight to voicemail. In reality, I can deal with a couple of broken shelves and hinges. It’s the hot water that’s giving me the biggest headache. Blake needs daily baths at the moment, and I need to wash dishes.
With Blake under one arm, I snatch up my cell and try once more to make contact.
“Hi. This is Billie Quinn at number twenty-five.” I work to keep my voice professional when, in fact, I would like to shove my landlord’s head in a blender. “I just moved in, like, a week ago, and the issues with the apartment continue to stack up. As you know, I have a newborn and?—”
The sound of knocking cuts me short.
“Hang on,” I continue. “That could be you at my door right now.”
Hitting End on the call, I head straight for the front door, convinced that it can only be my landlord since no one else can enter the building without being buzzed up or possessing a key or the code.
“Hey, Bill. Your neighbor was leaving and let me into the building.”
Crouching to inspect the seal around the doorjamb, Emmett greets me with a smile that only grows wider when he takes in my daughter, dressed in a unicorn onesie. When he turns his attention back to the door, dissatisfaction crosses his face, and then he rises to his full height in front of me.
As I stand to one side and he enters, I’m acutely aware of my lack of greeting. But when a guy looks the way Emmett does this morning, I think I speak on behalf of most women when I say …
Hot freaking damn.
In black dress pants that stop just above stylish gray sneakers, he finishes off a mouthwatering look with a casual dark blue button-down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing my favorite forearms.
Hands in his pockets, he does a three-sixty in the center of my living room, inspecting the apartment in detail.
“Can I help you?” I finally say, a small chuckle rising up my throat.
Even though I was hoping to find my landlord when I opened the door, I’m way more delighted to see Emmett. After last night’s awkward exchange with Maria and Mom almost catching us, we haven’t breathed another word to each other.
“Has your landlord called you back?” Emmett’s eyes finally find mine, a softness in them that doesn’t reflect our conversation.
I shake my head, confused. “No. But how do you know I tried to make contact?”
He moves a fraction closer, hands still in his pockets, like they frequently are when he’s near me. “I overheard you leaving a voicemail for him last night, right before I left to head home.”Pulling out his cell, he hands it over to me. “Let me take Blake while you key in your landlord’s number.”
I shake my head. “It’s pointless, trying to contact him. I said the same to my dad last night. He isn’t even picking up when I call.”
Emmett beckons his fingers at Blake, asking me to pass her over. “You just concentrate on giving me his details, and let me worry about getting ahold of your landlord.”
I look down at my daughter and then back at Emmett. “Are you sure you can handle her?” I have zero concerns about him holding Blake, especially after the way he was with her before we went to the park that day. Still, a familiar sense of guilt over everything he’s doing for us compels me to ask.
He doesn’t even hesitate. “I held my captain’s baby girl last Christmas, so I know the drill—support their head, but most importantly …” He trails off and reaches out, taking Blake from my arms before confidently cradling her in his. A big grin pulls at his full lips, and Blake instantly settles into his broad chest. “Most importantly, it’s all about smiles and giggles.” His face fills with warmth. “Isn’t that right, baby girl?”
I should be typing my landlord’s number into Emmett’s phone, which I’ve called so many times that I now have it memorized. Instead, I’m gaping at the man standing before me, almost as hard as my daughter is.
Adjusting the fluffy hood over Blake’s head, Emmett tips his chin at his cell. “All done?”
