Mr. Wrong Number(36)

“Nope.” She uncurled her legs and stretched them out on the ottoman. “I’m looking at apartments. I’ve gotten so comfy in your condo that I kind of forgot all about finding a place, and I’m mere days away from you physically removing me from the building.”

“I’m not a monster. I’ll let you stay a whole extra day if you’re nice to me.”

She threw me a look and said, “I don’t need your favors. I just need to find a decent place that doesn’t require too big of a deposit.”

“Still building up your cash stash since the fire?”

“Bingo. I make enough to pay the rent, but don’t have a crap-ton to put down.”

“Could you maybe borrow from your parents?”

“I’d rather live on the streets.” She kept scrolling through apartment listings as she said, “I borrowed a hundred bucks from them the night I came back, and my mother has literally mentioned it every time we’ve spoken.”

“Did you fail to pay them back?”

“Nope—I know the way she works, so I actually paid them back a hundred and fifty dollars.”

“Didn’t buy their silence?”

“Not even for an hour.”

That made me laugh, because her mom was a real piece of work. I adored Nancy, but the woman reminded me of a Seinfeld character. I sat down on the arm of the sofa next to her and looked down at Olivia’s computer screen. “One Hundred Eighth and Q? I thought you loved living downtown.”

Since moving in, I was pretty sure she’d spent more time staring out at the city than doing anything else. She was like me in that, her absolute adoration of downtown life.

“I can’t afford it, moneybags; everything down here is crazy expensive, so I’m afraid it’s the burbs for this girl.”

“This building has loft studios; did you look at them?”

“I think so . . . ?”

“Here.” I pushed her over and sat down beside her, stealing her laptop.

“Hey!”

A few clicks, and boom—there was my building. I hovered over the studio floor plan. “See? They’re studios, but the loft is like the bedroom so it feels more like a one-bedroom.”

“Look at those high ceilings.” She squinted and leaned closer, her body leaning against mine as the smell of her shampoo—my shampoo—came at me. “Wow, those are amazing!”

I just shook my head; her excitement made me miss Misdial. Even though it was Olivia and I saw her every day, I missed what I thought it’d been.

“And not too expensive. I’m sure they require a crazy deposit, though.” She frowned.

“You should just apply; you never know.”

She gave me side-eye and nudged me with her elbow. “I can’t believe you want me to live in your building so badly.”

I reached out a hand and pushed, toppling her over on the couch. “I was being nice, but now that you mention it, perhaps having your Liv luck in the building isn’t the best idea.”

“Nope, it’s too late now. I’m sending in an application.”

“Please, God, no.”

“Oh, I’m here.” She grinned and pushed my leg with her foot as she stayed horizontal. “If they accept me and I can afford it, I’m going to be here all the time. In fact, I think I’ll request an upper floor just so I can drop stuff down onto your deck.”

“Typical.”

She sat up and pushed up her glasses. “I might even train pigeons to crap on your fancy patio furniture.”

“As if you could.”

“You don’t know.” She yanked back her computer and clicked on the “Apply Now” link. “This is pointless, but I’m doing it just to make you regret trying to help me.”

That made me laugh. “Why, exactly . . . ?”

“I have no idea.” She grinned, and something about the intimacy of the smile she was giving me made me notice her full lower lip. “It’s just the knee-jerk way I’ve always related to you.”

“I get that.” I got up, adding distance between us because the last thing that I needed was to fall under the spell of her funny charm and forget all about who she actually was. Jack’s sister, Jack’s sister, Jack Marshall’s little baby sister, dipshit. “Call the office in the morning and talk to Jordyn. She’s great and can give you a tour.”

“Jordyn, huh?” She waggled her eyebrows in a ridiculously cheesy way. “Sounds hot.”

“And incredibly pregnant.” I turned off the TV with the remote, dropped it on the coffee table, and said, “G’night, Liv.”

My bedroom door was almost closed when I heard her say, “Sweet dreams, Colin.”

And just before I plugged in my phone to let it charge overnight, I shot off a quick email to Jordyn in the leasing office. I wasn’t meddling, because Olivia was definitely not my problem, but if she needed a recommendation in order to get an apartment she loved, I was good with doing that.

Besides, I still owed her for the kick-ass letter.

And hell—the quicker she found a place, the quicker she was out of my hair, anyway.





9





Olivia


I spent the entire next day looking at apartments, but the problem was that I looked at the one available studio in Colin’s building first. It was tiny but ridiculously perfect: new appliances, new flooring, cool ceilings, and the loft had a changing area and tiny half bath, so it felt like way more space than it actually was. And, of course, it had a view of the city that made my soul feel alive. The rent was doable, too, but their income requirements would probably knock me out of the running.