“Good,” she sighs and leans closer. “I don’t like it up there, Elise, not one little bit.”
***
At ten minutes past seven I reach up and gently knock on Ascot’s door. I step back, surprised when it gives way and cracks open.
“Hello?” I peek my head into the living room.
“In here,” Ascot calls out and I glance to the left, spotting him in the kitchen.
“Oh, hey,” I smile, “your door was open.”
“Come on in,” he waves from behind the bar, a black hand towel draped over one side of his shoulder. I shut the door and step closer, noticing his damp, tousled hair resting above the collar of his white fitted, shirt.
“Red or white?” He cocks his head, holding up two wine bottles. His chiseled jawline shadowed with day old stubble.
Holy God he looks good.
“Uh white, thanks,” I smile, trying not to stare as he fills a clear, stemless glass.
“Great choice, have a seat,” his eyes meet mine as I pull out a barstool across from him. He places the glass on the bar. “You look amazing by the way,” he whispers, watching me take a sip of wine.
“This is really good,” I clear my throat, heat beginning to flush my cheeks. “And, thank you.”
He finally looks away, his lips curling into a wider smile. “Hope you like shrimp,” he flips a saucepan like a seasoned chef. “I love a good garlic bread scampi.”
Whoa.
“I do, it smells delicious,” I follow his fingers as they sprinkle fresh parsley over the top. “Looks like you’ve done this a few times.”
Ascot lifts the pan from the burner, tilting it as the buttery sauce drizzles over a thick, crusty piece of bread. “I enjoy cooking, I admit,” he grabs a knife and fork from the drawer, cutting a small piece. “Here,” he hands me the handle of the fork.
“Oh,” I take it and blow slightly, glancing up at him. His eyes are focused on my lips as I take the bite.
“Good?” he wipes his hand with the dishtowel.
I close my eyes and slowly nod.
Holy shit.
“This is by far the best thing I’ve had in a long time,” I smile, lifting my glass for another drink.
“I’m glad you like it,” he grins. “So, tell me about yourself,” he tilts his head. “What do you do for a living?”
I swallow and set down my wine. “I work for a small insurance company you’ve probably never heard of.”
“Try me,” his eyes crinkle with a gentle smile.
“It’s actually just across the street from our building.”
“Ah, Roundtable Insurance, yep, I know the one.”
“You do?”
He nods, brows going up. “Mm, hum. Your agency carries my renter’s insurance.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “I had no idea,” I take another sip.
“Yup, for about a year now.”
“Well, that makes sense. I didn’t start working there until a few months ago.”
“The manager,” he looks up for a second. “Adam Tate, right?”
I nod, crinkling my nose. “Yeah, he’s still there.”
Ascot’s eyes narrow. “I take it, you don’t like him much.”
“That would be an understatement,” I blurt out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have…”
“Oh, no worries. I knew he was an asshole the moment I shook his hand,” he chuckles.
“Took you that long, huh?”
“Wow, he must be worse than I thought.”
I let out a chuckle. “Let’s just say it’s a never-ending battle with Adam.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “Enough about my stupid boss, tell me about you and your work.”
He tilts the pan, pouring the rest of the shrimp on another plate and sets it in front of me. “I work in the medical field,” he says without looking up.
“Oh? What do you do?”
He glances up at me. “I’m a surgeon.”
My brows go up. “Impressive,” I lift my fork. “Mind if I ask what you’re doing, living in this crappy old building?”
He laughs out loud as I take a bite. “Eventually, I’ll get around to restoring it.”
I cough. “Wait, you own this place?”
He nods, grinning, like he’s enjoying watching me squirm.
Good one, Elise.
“I-I’m so sorry…”
“Don’t be,” he interrupts. “After this morning’s debacle, it may have to happen sooner than later,” he reaches to the side for his glass of wine.
“The water leak? Did it do that much damage?”
“Enough for me to get started,” he takes a long drink. “But probably not enough to make a claim.”
“Lucky you,” I cut another bite.
He smiles and our eyes lock for a moment before he looks away. “Although, now I have a new person to call if I run into bigger issues.”
I cock my head playfully. “You mean, me?”
“How did you ever guess?” he laughs, reaching in the fridge for the wine bottle.
“So, what made you buy this building, anyway?”
He shrugs, pouring more into my glass. “I’m a sucker for art deco design,” he sighs, topping off the bottle in his glass.
I nod and take a drink. “Are you from here?”
Ascot laughs. “God, no,” he leans his elbows on the bar. “I moved here when I was…” he stops and clears his throat. “When I was twenty-two, so,” he lets out a breath. “Eight years ago.”
“Did you move here for college?” I ask, wondering why he hesitated.
“Something like that, yes,” he straightens up and turns away, grabbing two oven mitts. “Ah, the chicken parmesan is ready.”
“Wow, you went all out,” my eyes going wide as he pulls out the bubbling dish, placing it on the cooktop. “It looks and smells amazing.”
He gazes up at me. “It isn’t every day you happen to flood a beautiful girl’s apartment, it’s the very least I can do,” his face changes and he tilts his head. “How’s your foot?”
I blink, trying to play back what he asked and fail. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Your foot,” he looks down. “Does it hurt?”
I shake my head. “Oh, no,” I slip off my shoe. “See? It’s totally healed.”
“That was quick,” his lips tighten into a thin line.
“I know, right? I was surprised too. Thought I’d get an infection when I stepped on that wet, nasty rug but somehow it miraculously took care of itself,” I slip my flat back on. “Maybe your exotic fish have magical healing power?” I giggle and take another sip of wine.
Ascot whispers something under his breath, his demeanor suddenly changed when he reaches up, pulling out two plates from the cabinet. His fingers slip, one hand losing its grip as a plate crashes to the floor, scattering pieces of porcelain all over.
“Dammit,” he whispers, using the side of his shoe to scoot away the broken fragments.
I jump out of my chair. “Where’s your broom?” I ask, walking towards his closet door.