Holding Fiona carefully, she leaned down to kiss his head. “I’ll always be your little girl. But please let me be my own woman.”
“I’ll do my best.” He stood slowly and, without a word, took the baby from her arms. “And I just texted Michelle Monroe, the real estate agent handling the deal.”
She inched back, a little wowed by Dad’s speed on this one. “You have Michelle Monroe’s phone number? Really. ’Cause she’s attractive and single.”
Dad dipped his head and gave her a look. “You know how much you don’t want me to set you up with anyone? Multiply that by thirty-six.”
“Thirty-six?”
“The number of years I enjoyed with the one and only woman of my dreams,” he explained. “She’s gone, and there is no room, time, or interest for others.”
“Got it,” she said. “But there’s no room, time, or interest for me, either. So can we both back off?”
“Darcy.” He put his right hand in the air. “I swear I haven’t set you up.”
“Yet,” she finished.
He chuckled and nudged her toward the living room. “Come on. Let’s go tell the family your news.”
Chapter Three
No pets allowed.
“What?” Darcy did a double take at the tiny gold-plated sign under the address of what was about to be her new home. Had she seen that when Michelle took her through the apartment? There had been no mention of a pet clause. Was it on the contract?
She let out a little moan of despair, loud enough to make Kookie look up from the tiny patch of grass she was sniffing. Kookie’s big brown eyes and sweet face folded Darcy’s heart in half, as they had since the day Mom rescued this dog and gave her to Darcy to heal a broken heart.
Darcy could barely remember what the guy responsible for that heartbreak looked like now, but she owed him. That breakup brought her Kookie, a white and mushroom Shih Tzu who was apparently named after some 1950s TV show character famous for having long hair. A cotton ball on steroids, Shane called her.
But…no pets allowed.
Sorry, but Darcy would pack up, go home, and surrender all her independence before she’d consider living without her baby girl. Just thinking about it made Darcy bend over and swoop up ten pounds of spice and spunk into her arms, giving a squeeze.
“We’ll find a way around that little roadblock,” Darcy whispered, pressing a kiss on the soft little fur she kept long and coiffed and usually in a tiny bow. Kookie squirmed and stuck her head into the opening of Darcy’s handbag, hunting for treats she knew were always packed into the side pocket along with lipstick and breath mints. “Oh, of course,” Darcy cooed. “I’ll hide you in my purse while we sneak in. After that? Well, we’ll figure something out.”
All she wanted to do tonight was see the place again, give Kooks a chance to sniff around, and measure the bedroom so she could decide which dresser to pack onto Shane’s truck tomorrow. Anyway, Dad knew the landlord. And he’d said the guy was reasonable or…something?
She honestly hadn’t heard many details after “brownstone in Ambrose Acres,” which was a dreamy section of Bitter Bark. And the sunny one-bedroom apartment she came to see with the real estate agent the next day had delivered on every level.
The second-floor unit was roomy, cheery, and both the eat-in kitchen and spacious bedroom had narrow balconies that overlooked an enclosed courtyard in the back. The apartment had been renovated in neutral tones with a washed-gray wood floor, and Darcy had instantly seen how she could decorate to her super-feminine taste, with generous pops of color. Not pink. Well, not entirely pink.
But no one had said a word about pets. Although the landlord hadn’t been here when Darcy toured the unit, wouldn’t the agent have been informed?
Darcy had stood right out here on the front steps listening to Michelle’s side of the conversation when she’d called him that day. Both downstairs units were occupied, but the other, much larger apartment on the second floor was about to undergo a gut job, meaning the person who took the one bedroom up there would have to put up with construction noise and dirt. That must have been the reason it was still available and helped Michelle negotiate a sweet rent with a promise that Darcy could move in immediately.
Everything was perfect except…No pets allowed.
She threw the sign a dirty look. No one could stop her from bringing Kookie, who went everywhere with her, made no noise or trouble, and could be hidden as easily as a pair of gloves. Still, she glanced around, her gaze settling on one of the two units on the first floor, fairly certain Michelle had said the landlord lived in one of them.
Hopefully, the man was nice and not some surly old fart who hated dogs. Just in case, Darcy tucked Kookie deeper into her oversized bag and stroked her head. “No barking, baby girl.”
She gave one last whimper, knowing full well what “no barking” meant, because Kookie was Obedient with a capital O and understood English as well as everyone around her. Better, in some cases.
As Darcy used the key code to open the wrought-iron-gate entrance, she was already working out a plan. First of all, until the other apartment was renovated next door, she’d be the only tenant on the second floor. She rarely went anywhere, including work, without Kookie, who fit into almost any bag, which could be how she’d sneak the dog out to the grass morning and night. If she had to go somewhere without Kookie, Darcy would leave her at Waterford Farm, so the dog would never be home alone barking. And she was too small for the person downstairs to hear her footsteps.
“Easy-peasy, little squeezy,” she whispered, opening the shiny black door into a main hall with marble floors, black inlay, and a twinkling crystal chandelier. She tiptoed past the doors to the two apartments downstairs, then darted toward a gorgeous turn-of-the-century curved stairway that led up to her unit.
God, she loved this place. “And it’s all mine!” In the bag, Kookie squirmed a little at unfamiliar scents. “Okay, mine and yours,” she corrected as she practically flew up the stairs.
At the top, she reached Unit 4 and flipped through her key ring to find the one she’d picked up at the real estate office that morning. As she turned the latch and inched the door open, she blinked at the unexpected light inside.
Many lights, as a matter of fact. Like, every overhead in the place flooded the whole unit in what looked like daylight. She stepped inside and peered into the entryway, getting a glimpse into the living room.
Had someone been here? Left on the lights? Was that why it was so hot in here?
Walking with trepidation, she made her way to the door to the bedroom, seeing a stepladder and…the lower half of a man visible from a square hole in the ceiling, booted feet on a ladder step.
Just as she gasped softly in shock, something white came falling to the floor, hitting hard and cracking.
“Son of a bitch, it’s drywall.” The deep voice came from inside what she guessed was an air conditioning duct.
Stunned, she reeled back, momentarily forgetting the dog under her arm as she tried to imagine why a man would be hanging out of the ceiling at nine at night. Fixing the AC, she supposed, peering at the shape of him to try to guess what she was dealing with and decide if she should run or stay.
A handyman or construction worker, she supposed, but as the tenant, she had every right to be here. Assuming she was safe. She inched back to the door, mentally planning an escape route if she needed one.
“How the hell did this happen?” Another chunk of drywall hit the floor.
Darcy stared at the jean-clad backside not ten feet from her. His waist was narrow, his thighs strong, his legs the length of a man who probably stood well over six feet.
She stared at the masculine form in front of her, her breath and the grip on her bag tightening with each slow second of her thorough inspection. Under her arm, Kookie growled softly in protest.
“Is someone there?” The man’s work boots moved, finding balance on the ladder as Darcy stayed frozen in place, unsure of what to d
o. “Is someone down there?”
Kookie barked once at the deep, masculine voice.
“Is that a dog?”
Darcy cleared her throat and coughed hard enough to sound like, well, a bark. “I’m the new tenant.” With the dog who’s not allowed.
She coughed again, trying to match Kookie’s pitch.
“Oh. Oh, really?” Suddenly, he moved effortlessly down each step, revealing a bare torso, broad shoulders, and so many ripped, cut, tanned, and sweaty muscles that Darcy didn’t know where to look. Except away. She could not look away. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
He wasn’t expecting…oh crap! This was the landlord?
Kookie barked again.
So Darcy coughed louder and seized a handful of treats, stuffing them deeper into the bag to buy time and quiet.
He dropped to the floor, turned, and for a split second, they both stood in what felt like stunned silence.
Oh God. This was her landlord? This hot, hunky human built for a joyride was her landlord? She had to muster more self-control to keep her gaze on his face and not the stunning bare chest that was right about at eye level. “I thought you were…” An old, bald, grouchy, dog-hating landlord. Not…a Greek god with a disarming face, scruffy whiskers, and soft lips that were not relaxing into a smile of welcome.
And don’t even think about that body…although it might be a while before Darcy thought about anything else.
“What are you doing here?” At least his gruff voice matched the image of the crotchety old man she’d been dreading. The rest of him was…not gruff. Not crotchety. And so not old. Not a day over thirty-five, she guessed.
“Uh, I live here?” she managed to say, still fighting the urge to let her gaze drop over him again.
“Not yet, you don’t.”
Was he serious? “I will in about three hours when the clock strikes twelve. Just call me Cinderella. Who are you? And if you say Prince Charming, you might have my heart forever.”
He didn’t smile. “I’m the building owner, and our contract states that the tenant will not move in until midnight on the agreed-upon date, though I was not expecting you until tomorrow morning.”
Oh, that’s what Dad had told her. This was the guy who followed the rules. Just her luck. Especially when one of the rules was “no pets.”
Rather than shake his hand and introduce herself, which she would do under any other circumstances, she turned in an attempt to hide her bag and the contraband inside. “I came to measure for furniture,” she said quickly. “But I don’t need to do that tonight.”
He narrowed dark eyes to intense, distrusting slits, making thick lashes come together as he openly appraised her, his gaze landing on her purse.
Instantly, she coughed again. Hard, three times in a row, tapping her throat. “Oh, that dust.”
“Exactly why you shouldn’t be here yet.”
Okay, she had to flip the switch on this conversation and fast. She pointed to the two chunks of drywall on the floor. “Will that be gone by tomorrow?” she demanded.
“Yes. That’s why I’m working tonight.”
“What’s wrong? Is something wrong? Maybe I shouldn’t take the apartment if something’s wrong,” she added, purposely putting him on the defensive.
It worked. His expression instantly changed from accusation to assurance. “Oh God, no. You…” He took a slow breath, as if trying to find the right words, the move making his chest rise and fall and distract her completely. It wasn’t just the impressive size of it, but the sheen of sweat and the dusting of hair in the middle, all of it leading down to a thick, dark line under a sexy bellybutton peeking out from his jeans. “You’re, I mean, it’s fine,” he finished.
So are you.
“Doesn’t look fine,” Darcy shot back. Although, actually, it did. So fine her neck prickled and legs wobbled and there might be some toes curling in her sneakers. “And it’s really hot in here.”
“It’s the AC,” he added, sounding a little defeated as he turned and grabbed a red rag from the ladder. “The duct was blocked.” He lifted his arms to slide the rag—which was actually a paint-spattered T-shirt—over his head, giving her a split second to say goodbye to that spectacular chest.
His head popped through the top. “I found the problem, though. I promise the air will be coming through the duct and I’ll have this all cleaned up before tomorrow. Which is why you can’t be here tonight. It’s not safe, Miss Kilcannon.”
For some reason, the fact that he knew her name threw her a little, despite the fact that he, of course, must have seen it on her signed lease. But she didn’t know his, and he sure as heck wasn’t offering it along with a handshake and hello. So he was hot and cold.
“I can send you the room measurements by email if you like,” he said. “You did put your email on the contract, right?”
Did she? She certainly hadn’t read the thing closely enough, or she’d know about his stupid no-pets rule. The question was, should she try to get him to change his mind, or sneak Kookie in and out of here and risk eviction?
“I think so,” she said. “But it’s okay. I can see the size of the room now. I know which dresser to bring.”
He snapped the ladder closed and slipped it under his thick bicep like the metal contraption weighed a few ounces. “Goodbye, then.”
She stayed where she was for a moment, vaguely aware that even Kookie, the world’s best dog, was getting restless. But Darcy wasn’t one to back down from anything. “I’m sorry, did I say something to offend you? I mean, other than showing up a hundred and twenty minutes early?”
He didn’t answer, swallowing a little, but continued to stare as if her very existence offended him. And he didn’t even know about the dog.
“I don’t want you to be disappointed in your new apartment,” he finally said. “I’ve worked really hard on two of the four units, and I need a good tenant to be able to finish the overhaul of the whole building.”
Then why had he looked at her like she was anything but a good tenant, but his worst possible nightmare? “I will be,” she assured him.
“Yeah, that’s what the real estate agent said.” He nodded, surreptitiously checking her out and maybe not for her tenant qualifications. Perspiration tickled her back. “She said you were from a good local family and your dad…” His voice trailed off.
“What about him?” she asked.
“Just that he’s well-known. Good connections. Solid citizen.”
Why did her father’s qualifications matter? A pinch of resentment grew, but then it got extinguished as fast as her next breath.
Oh, Dad. Seriously? Was this…oh, of course it was. Look at the man in front of her. Dad had already met him and… “I could kill him sometimes,” she muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“My dad. He’s being the Dogfather again.”
“The what?”
“It’s a nickname. Like the Godfather, pulling strings to get what he wants, only no marinara sauce or guns.”
He almost smiled, making her realize it was the very first time even the hint of a smile lifted his lips. The near miss made him really cute. Cuter. Of course Dad would know she’d be attracted to him. Of course he couldn’t resist a setup. He probably had this in mind the minute she mentioned wanting an apartment and he’d met this “good man” who “played by the rules.”
“Sounds like an interesting guy,” he said. “I’ll have to remember that if I ever meet him.”
“You already met him. At the Gentrification Committee meeting. Tall guy, silver hair, a semiretired veterinarian?”
“Oh, the dog guy. Of course I remember him. We had a brief conversation.”
“Let me guess.” Darcy cocked her head and imagined the dialogue. “He wanted to know how old you are, if you have any vices, and whether you’re single.”
“No.” His frown gave way to a quick laugh. “Wait, actually he did ask me if I was married. Wanted to get a handle on my stability.”
“No, on your availability, not stability.” A whole new wave of frustration rolled over her. “I love him,” she said. “I really do. But the man literally thinks he’s a human dating app.”
Confusion made his eyes even darker and more intense. “I’m sorry. You lost me.”
She dropped her head back with a soft grunt as it all became clear. “He seriously wants me to think it was totally random that I landed in this apartment with you as my landlord. Someone needs to teach him a lesson.”
“You want to teach your father a lesson? Definitely not following this.”
She put a hand on her hip, the need to hide Kookie forgotten with this new travesty. “My father thinks I’m going to marry you.”
“Excuse me?”
Did he have to be quite that aghast at the prospect? “He firmly believes he has this magic touch, and to be fair, he’s five for six in my family.”
She could have sworn his tanned skin paled. “That’s…insane.”
“Right? Someone has to prove him dead wrong, or he’ll be setting up every single person in Bitter Bark.”
“You have nothing to worry about, Miss Kilcannon,” he said. “I have no interest in marrying anyone, ever. His plans are doomed.”
She tried to ignore a wee thud of disappointment. Not that she wanted to marry him, or anyone, but did he have to be so certain?
She shook her head. “He’ll never stop. If it’s not the accountant’s son, it’s the car guy. If it’s not the new EMT, it’s the hot landlord.”
He gave another one of those half smiles that made her whole body remember she was a human female with wildly functioning hormones. “So, you should pick your own boyfriend and your dad will back off.”
“If only it was that easy.”
He hoisted the ladder a little higher and nodded for her to step to the side. “You’re at zero risk of an arranged marriage with me. I’m single for life, and nothing will ever change that. Nothing and no one.”
For some reason she hated and didn’t understand, that vehemence in his voice sent a little zing of a challenge through her. “Wow. Dropped a few bitter pills, did we?”