Page 16 of Lease to Love

The air between us changed.

Charged.

Electric.

Like the neighborhood always felt right before a summer thunderstorm finally broke open.

I could hear my own heartbeat. Traffic rolling past outside. The distant bass of somebody’s car stereo vibrating through the glass. A dog barking somewhere down the block.

And still we stared at each other.

Two stubborn assholes waiting for the other one to blink first.

Finally, I broke.

“I’ll have the rent by the end of the month. With your late fee.”

His eyebrow lifted. “The end of the month is nine days from now.”

“Then I’ll have it in nine days.”

Roman studied me—that same slow, considering pause—then he nodded.

“Alright. Nine days.”

He pushed away from the counter.

“I’ll hold off on any further action until the first. If the rent and the late fee aren’t in my account by close of business on the first, we’ll have a different conversation…” his eyes stayed on mine. “A real one.”

I wanted to argue.

I wanted to tell him that I could pay him tomorrow if I had to, that the money was just tied up in inventory and receivables and the various bullshitteries of small-business cash flow.

But I didn’t.

Because he was giving me nine days, and nine days was enough.

“Fine,” I said.

“Fine.”

Neither of us moved.

Which was when I became suddenly, acutely aware of the fact that everything about this man annoyed me.

His rude-ass attitude.

His constant sarcasm.

His stupid little low-cut fade.

His golden-brown eyes.

And whatever spicy, woodsy scent he wore that always seemed to linger in the air after he left.

Okay. Maybe not everything about him.

He was infuriatingly well put together for someone who was such a bastard.