“Right.” I strode to my door and bent over to use my necklace to let us in. I swung inside as my heart hammered fast. This was another big reveal. I wasn’t the quiet girl wrapped in a too-big jacket anymore. I was Nikki, Nyx: model extraordinaire with casual luxury and nice legs.
My heels clicked across the tiled entryway as I strode to the kitchen island. I propped my forearms on it and leaned on my back foot for a flattering angle. “This is it. Home sweet home.”
“Nice.” He lopped his thumbs into his belt loops as he scanned the open-concept kitchen and living room. “Too bad I’m not pretty enough to get paid for it. This is a lot of space.”
“I’ve got it all to myself.” No boyfriend or family members were sneaking in on my rent. This was for me and my eventual husband. Although if he had a nicer place, I'd keep this one to rent. Second properties could make a killing. But tonight, I didn’t want a ring. I smiled and flipped my hair over my shoulder. What would Mr. Alpha want to do next?
He glanced down the hall. “So, where’s your bathroom?”
I pointed. “First door on your right.”
“Thanks.” He tipped his chin and strode off in that direction.
The guy had surprisingly little game. Of course, it was possible he saw my place and got intimidated by my success. But did that matter if we were never going to see each other again?
The water squeaked on. Maybe he thought we’d do more than kiss and wanted his hands clean for any touching. That was…classy.
I brought my sandwich to the white, L-shaped couch in my living room and flopped down on the pile of cushions. I supposed I could’ve called him handsome and stroked his ego. But after Theo, I’d had enough of that.
My phone pinged with a text.
Then maybe he should’ve treated me better. Two years down the drain.
I swiped him away and opened my camera app to take a few photos. That usually made me feel better. My cheeks were still flushed from alcohol and the cold. After adding a filter, I was golden. But I also wanted to make a video. “New Year’s resolution: Be smart, keep it classy.” I winked at the camera and raised my pinky before taking a bite of my salty, delicious sandwich.
“Your sauce is dripping,” Zack called upon reentering the room.
I jerked my head back with a gasp and tilted the sandwich to check. Sauce oozed out of the sides of the bun, then splatted onto my leg. I cursed and scooped the sauce with my pinky. How did this get so messy so fast?
“Hey, keep it classy.” He smirked and got some of those crappy napkins out of the bag. Like he was so with it, Mr. Perfect.
I hurled a throw pillow at him.
He crouched and caught it under his arm as if it was nothing but a plushy football. “Are you mad because you need to dry clean your sequin thing?”
“It’s onme, not my outfit.” I snatched some of the useless napkins and set the sandwich on its wrapper.
His eyes crinkled. “Don’t worry. You’re still pretty.”
Was he mocking me? Heat splashed my chest and cheeks. I roughly wiped my leg. “Damn it, Zack. Stop trying to compliment me.”
He rubbed his shoulder against his ear. “Cursing isn’t classy.”
As much as I wanted to side-eye him, my exasperation broke through in a laugh. Something jabbed my thigh. “Oh shit; my phone fell.”
“Wash your hands before you touch anything,” he said, mimicking my earlier invitation. He leaned his forearms on the back of the couch and crossed his ankles. Were we playing or fighting?
I poked my phone awake. “Don’t worry, I’m not touching you tonight.”
He chuckled and tossed the hood over my head. “Of course not. You’re finishing your sandwich and going straight to bed.”
No midnight kiss?
“You’re such a dad,” I grumbled.
He poked the back of my head. “You like it.”
