Meet Me Halfway(17)

But this was worse. It reminded me of the time a college-aged coworker had approached me while I was pregnant, offering to pay me for sex. My rounded belly had apparently screamed “I’m Madison, and I’m easy. You don’t even have to wrap it up because I’m already pregnant. Enjoy the risk-free ride.”

I was still living at home and going to school but had daycare to pay and couldn’t afford to quit, so I’d had to continue seeing the asshole every shift.

This felt much like that. He’d basically called me a sleazy gold digger, and it didn’t matter that I knew it to be untrue. Just like the guy back then, I was stuck in his vicinity, unable to walk away and never see him again.

My eyes burned, and I shifted in my seat, submitting defeat and glancing away. I sensed, more than saw, Layla straighten to her full five-foot-ten height, locking her spine for battle. She knew me better than I knew myself and could probably sense my quickly rising anxiety.

“Well, you can fuck right off. If you want to run your mouth, go do it in your own home. You couldn’t have made it more obvious you don’t know her at all.”

He gave a dry mockery of a laugh. “And I don’t care to.”

Ouch.

He twisted, the movement catching my eye and convincing me to look up, only to be ensnared in his accusatory gaze. He looked me up and down, and then gave me his back, his long strides taking him back toward his side.

Layla launched out of her chair, snatching her glass and the near-empty box of wine. I could practically hear her grinding her teeth, and for a second, I thought I saw actual flames in her eyes.

Wrapping my fingers around my own glass, I took my time following her inside, trying to give myself every possible second to withstand the storm she was about to unleash upon me.

The lock hadn’t even fully slid into its home for the night when her nails dug into my shoulder, whipping me around. “I knew it, you dirty little slut!”

That was not at all what I was expecting. “Wait, you knew what?” I asked, legitimately confused.

She leaned down into my face, raising both hands and making air quotations, “A hazel-eyed, dark-haired, muscled stranger? How convenient the man who just approached your house like he’s already intimate with it, just happens to look like that. Spill.”

“I’m not sure how to answer that.”

She grabbed my shoulders again, shaking me like a rag doll. “Spill!”

I stepped back, slapping at her arms, “He’s not intimate with my side unless he knew the residents before me. I’ve only spotted him a few times and only talked to him once before this. It didn’t go much better.”

“He’s fucking hot.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. There was no reason trying to deny it. He was calendar model hot. I threw myself face down on the couch. There was no way I was accomplishing any studying tonight.

Layla sat on top of me, slouching down and getting comfortable. “However, he’s also a fucking, judgmental asshole.”

“Seems so.”

She sucked on her teeth. “I bet he’s quick on the mark. Shame. Those arms are delicious.”

“Careful,” I said, my voice muffled by the cushion smashed against my face. “You’re objectifying him.”

She laughed, smacking me on the ass. “He’s really our immediate neighbor?”

“Yep,” I said into the couch.

She twisted her lips to the side, “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“Me neither.”





Chapter Five





We were going to be late. Between the wine and the drama—frankly just about everything last night—I’d forgotten to set my alarm for the first time in years.

Thankfully, my body was so used to getting minimal sleep, sleeping in equated to only an extra half hour. However, when you only give yourself one hour to wake up, get ready, drop your kid off, and get to work, it’s a problem.

I’d been mid-roll when I suddenly had that intuition that hits you when you just know something’s wrong. My eyes shot open, quickly followed by my mouth as I shouted an expletive, I prayed Jamie didn’t hear.

He had. That blessed boy had gotten himself up and was eating a bowl of cereal when I ran out. His blond hair was sticking up in every possible direction, but at least he was up and wearing pants.

Plucking the spray bottle off the bathroom counter, I doused his hair in mist, causing him to squirm and spill milk down his chin, before pushing a hat on his head. It’d have to do.

Five minutes later, I jogged back out, tucking my blouse into my slacks as I went. My hair-tie was clasped in my hand and my shoes tucked in my armpit. “Are you ready, bud?”

“What do you think?”

I glanced up from my pants to see Jamie standing at the door, shoes on and backpack slung over his shoulder. He was sticking his tongue out with crossed eyes.

“Okay, I deserved that one.” I chuckled, grabbing my frizzy, third-day curls and throwing them into a bun on the top of my head. I didn’t have a lick of makeup on, and my head was already letting me know it didn’t appreciate the lack of morning coffee. “I’m ready, let’s go.”

“Rugsy looks like she needs to pee. Also, you don’t have your purse.”

I wasn’t going to curse. I wasn’t going to curse. “Go ahead and buckle into your seat, I’ll be out in a second,” I said, handing him the keys and running to snatch my purse from my room.