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“Yeah, I’m home for the night. I never wear a shirt to bed.”
“No one here’s sleeping. We have to get this hammered out. Tonight.” Trixie crosses her arms over her chest, her foot tapping the wood planks in agitation. She’s awfully damn cute when she’s mad.
“We don’t have to sleep if you don’t want. That works for me.” I shoot her a devilish grin and she huffs out an exasperated sigh.
“Colt, be serious for a second! We have a real situation here. Obviously, the Spruce sisters made a mistake. And we can’t both stay in this apartment. There’s not enough space.”
“Good thing you have a brother who lives here, huh? I’m sure you can crash with him until you find somewhere else to move.”
“Uh-uh. No freaking way. I’m not sleeping on a pull-out couch in his romper room basement. You go stay with my brother and his two kids. He’s your best friend.”
“Hard pass, Trix. Thanks for the offer, though.” I amble over to the fridge, swinging the door open and grabbing a beer. “Want one?” I hold the glass bottle up over my shoulder.
“No, I do not want a beer, Colt. What I want is a hot shower and a good night of sleep. In my new apartment. Alone.” She puts heavy emphasis on that last word.
“Suit yourself.” I pop the top off the brew, take a long, cold slug before I root around and pull out a pizza box. “How about some pizza?”
She narrows her eyes at me in a look that could best be described as disdain. I shrug and slap two slices of pizza ona plate, shoving them in the microwave that hogs most of the countertop.
“I can’t believe you’re eating right now. I’m calling Ms. Dottie.” She pulls her cell from her pocket and dials, mashing the speaker button so I can listen to the entire conversation.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Ms. Dottie. This is Trixie Lovell.”
“Oh, hello there, dear. Did you get into town okay? Make it to the apartment?”
“Yes, I did, thanks. But there’s a small issue.”
“Oh. Really? We fixed the leaky pipe.”
“It’s not the pipe. And honestly, it’s more like a gigantic issue. You see, Colt Wild’s here in the apartment and he’s saying Ms. Lottie rented it to him.”
“Oh dear.” A muffled, scratching noise rattles through the speaker and then Dottie calls out to her sister. “Lottie—did you rent out the apartment to that Wild boy? Colton?”
A second voice sounds in the distance. “Colton? Yes, a few weeks ago. Why?”
“Oh my. Because I rented the entire place to Trixie Lovell. The shop and the apartment.”
“Well, that’s a real pickle. Because I told Colton he could stay as long as he helps fix up the shop.”
I grin at Trixie, her narrow shoulders slumping in defeat. Satisfied, I take a bite of pizza, cheese stringing from the dough.
Trixie groans. “This is just great.”
“Now, now. I’m sure the two of you can work something out.” Dottie’s voice is full of unfounded confidence. She obviously doesn’t know Trixie all that well. Compromising’s never been her strong suit.
“How?” Trixie throws her arm up in the air.
“Look at it this way, dear. You have live-in help. Colton’s a strong young man and he’s going to help fix up the shop. Your business will be up and running in no time.”
Trixie’s full, pink lips press together in a tight line. “Yeah, I guess. In the meantime, where are we supposed to sleep?”
“I believe there’s a nice couch downstairs. Maybe he’ll be a gentleman and give you the bed.”
Trixie guffaws, shaking her head. “Ha. Fat chance.”
“Do you need anything else, dear? We were just sitting down to watchMurder, She Wrote.”
