“That’s cheap. What’s wrong with it?” Logan wants to know. “Bad neighborhood? Faulty plumbing? Are you a serial killer?”
I laugh – a short burst of noise – and cover my mouth immediately, which makes him grin. It’s a hell of a grin. “I’m not a serial killer. I promise. The second bedroom is tight. Can probably only fit a twin bed but the plumbing is fine. I hired a pro for that and the wiring. And the neighborhood is on the west side, walking distance to the ocean. Rent is on the lower side because I care more about the right tenant than the money. I need to feel comfortable with my choice since the person will be under my roof and it’s the only roof I own. Well, the bank owns most of it, but you know what I mean.”
“I don’t suppose you take pets?” Logan asks, his expression is bordering on a frown expecting me to say no.
“I’m a huge animal lover so I definitely wouldn’t exclude pets.”
“I’d like to rent it,” Logan says firmly. “I’ve been looking for a place for a while. It sounds right.”
“You don’t want to see it first?”
“Yeah. I can see it. What about now?”
“Umm…I guess. Yeah,” I say awkwardly. This is all so unexpected.
“Cool. What’s your address?” Logan replies and pauses. I must look as unsure as I feel because he smiles at me again, this time all his brooding and angst seem to be gone. “I promise, I’m not a serial killer either. And you know who my family is,” he says as he points to the restaurant.
We both laugh and then I tell him the address. “I’ll just grab my pup so you can meet him and head right over.”
I nod and get back into my car as he jogs towards his. The weirdest job interview I’ve ever had is quickly turning into the weirdest day. I can’t help but wonder what the heck will happen next?
2
Chloe
I stare downat my two dogs and point at them like an angry school marm. “You two behave, okay? Even if this guy doesn’t rent the apartment, I have to work with his sister, so don’t make me look bad. Keep the snarling and barking to a minimum, okay?”
Boss and Stevie—the most finicky, vaguely psychotic chihuahuas on the planet—hate everyone but me. They once chased a delivery guy down the stairs, and now he hurls the packages in the general direction of the front door instead of stepping foot on the porch.
Thirteen year-old Boss stares up at me, blinking like he’s innocent, and seventeen year-old Stevie ignores me completely and walks away, heading to her bed by the fireplace. It’s not completely an act of defiance. She’s deaf.
The first thing I did when I got home was head to my rental unit and open all the windows. It still smelled strongly of fresh paint. I admired my work, quickly, as I went. I was proud of this apartment. It took blood, sweat, and tears and all my spare cash, but it was worth it. The income would keep me in the house, and allow me a chance to pay off my bills and maybe fix that smoking car.
But did I want Logan Hawkins—the grump, according to his family—as my tenant? It would be weird and precarious with the secret job, and also, his hotness was a problem. I didn’t plan on renting to eye candy. I mean, some women would find that a bonus. But I’m looking forward to being very detached from whomever rents from me. I wanted it to be a transactional business relationship and nothing else. Could I keep it that way with a guy who looks like him? Would I flirt? Do I even remember how to do that?
A car engine grabs my attention, and I look out the window in the living room to see Logan pulling up to the curb in front of the house. I walk over to the door. Stevie and Boss get up from their beds and trot behind me. I open the door and step onto the wide wooden porch that circles the front and sides of my elevated Craftsman. “Hey. You found it okay.”
“Yeah. I know Ocean Pines like the back of my hand,” he says and runs a hand through his thick hair as he walks around the back of his SUV. “Also, I’m a paramedic, so I know these streets well.”
Okay, that is definitely a plus in my books. Since my car crash, I have a strong admiration for paramedics, nurses, doctors, basically everyone who kept me alive. I don’t mention that to him though, because I don’t want to bring up any of my baggage, so I just smile and nod. Then I notice something moving in his back seat. Something brown and furry and so damn big I think for a moment it might be a bear. Logan smiles up at me, which makes me smile back down at him. Until he swings open the back door to his Pathfinder and the biggest dog I have ever seen in my life jumps out. My mouth drops from a smile into a giant, gaping circle. Stevie and Boss start to growl from beside my ankles.
“Chewie, sit.” Logan commands and the beast listens.
“What the hell is that?”
He freezes. “My dog. Chewie. Short for Chewbacca.”
Boss starts towards the steps, and I pick him up immediately. “I’ve seen smaller horses.”
Logan looks down at the monster and pats his chocolate brown head. “He’s big boned.”
“What breed is he?”
“Newfoundland.”
“Did they name them that because they’re the size of Newfoundland?”
A big grin breaks across his face at my joke, and I’m not going to lie, he goes from a ten-out-of-ten to a fifteen-out-of-ten on the hotness scale. Then the smile fades and his expression clouds with worry. “You didn’t say there was a size-restriction on pets.”
