Home > The Sweetest Thing (SWANK #2)(2)

The Sweetest Thing (SWANK #2)(2)
Author: Maya Hughes

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” His friendly smile was exactly what I needed right now. Maybe this would all turn out for the best.

“Thank you. Like, a million times, thank you.” I fished my car key out of my pocket and handed it over.

Another doorman appeared and opened the door for someone else entering the lobby. An older woman in her seventies looking like Coco Chanel herself strode through the space like she expected cars to stop for her. And from the look of her, they probably would.

The other doorman crossed the lobby to the woman. “Mrs. Winters, the package you were waiting for has arrived.”

Everyone was going to figure out I didn’t belong. I needed to escape to the safety of the apartment. It would be harder to kick me out once I unpacked. Surely once I changed into my good leggings, they’d all realize how well I fit in here. Or maybe they’d all form a human chain across the lobby to bar me from the building. The basket scraped against the marble floor with a grinding, gritty sound. “I’ll take these things up and be back to get the rest.”

“Really, Sabrina, I can bring it up.” Ian jogged back toward the front desk.

“O-okay, I’ll head up then,” I called out, wanting to unload my things like I was staking my claim before the hand-linking in the lobby began.

Jamming my finger into the elevator button, I prayed it wasn’t the rickety, rumbling kind that took hours to arrive. I didn’t want to ride up with Ms. Old-School Fashion Winters. Just what I’d need, some of my grimy peasant belongings brushing against her cream linen pants.

The elevator door opened, and I flung myself inside, pressing the 10 button. Doing the dance of impatience, I jammed my finger into the close-door button.

The doors sprung to life, closing, but before I could be the least bit relieved, a dainty hand broke the plane of the space and the doors slid open.

I backed into the corner, pressing myself against the wood wall with the metal railing digging into my spine. I gripped the edge of the laundry hamper, and tried to pretend I was invisible. Maybe I should jump out before it closed like in The Devil Wears Prada.

“Moving in?” She turned to me with a small box in the palm of her hand. The doors closed, and she didn’t push another button.

“Yes. To 1001.”

Her eyes widened the smallest hint. “Looks like we’ll be new neighbors. I didn’t know Hunter was dating anyone.”

My head shook furiously. “No, Barbara Saxton, his grandmother, offered up one of the bedrooms when I ran into housing issues. She said Hunter was away for the weekend, so I’m moving in now.”

With a lip quirk, she looked me up and down.

A visceral urge to crawl into the basket hit me.

Her gaze wasn’t mean or judging, more like assessing.

The doors opened onto the tenth floor. “It was a delight to meet you…”

“Sabrina.”

“I’m Millicent, your new neighbor, but you can call me Millie.”

“Nice to meet you, Millie.”

“Did you need any help?” She looked down at all my things piled around me like I was a packrat on the move.

“No, it’s okay. I actually forgot a bag downstairs, so I’ll ride down and get it.” I pressed the 7 button and went back to my corner.

“Let me know if you need anything. Hunter can be quite a handful.” This time it was more than a lip quirk—it was a full, lip-parting laugh, which she quickly stifled, and straightened her face.

That didn’t sound ominous at all. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

The doors closed, and I went down to 7 before coming back up to 10. Peering out of the opened doors, I checked to make sure the coast was clear. Palpable relief rolled through me, as did a few beads of sweat down my back.

I dragged my things out of the elevator and down the hallway. It felt like steam was rising from under the collar of my t-shirt and curling the hairs on the back of my neck. My arms hurt already. At least I was here. Using the key Ian had handed me, I stuck it in the apartment door and pushed it open.

Letting my purse drop off my shoulder, I collapsed against the wall. My backpack slid down my noodle arms. I still needed to help bring up the rest of my things. It was a dick move to leave it all to Ian. At least I’d sent off the first part of my product photography deliverables to my client before the bomb dropped on my life. Trying to make that deadline while I moved in would’ve been impossible.

The door swung shut behind me, but didn’t fully close. I hoped the apartment had a bath. After today I’d want to soak until I was pruney and the water turned cold. Maybe I could finally come down from the frantic panic I’d been living in for the past few days.

While the building outside felt older, inside there was a modern but classic feel. Some clashes seemed to work. Old stained glass and lead lamps on dark wood polished tables stood out against the new wood floors.

Barbara hadn’t mentioned when Hunter would be back. At least I’d have some time to settle in before he arrived and get my things unpacked and out of his way. Maybe I could grocery shop a bit to make him a thank-you, I-swear-I-won’t-be-a-shitty-roommate dinner whenever he got back.

There was a noise farther inside the apartment.

My pulse skyrocketed. I looked around me and pulled a pipe from the basket used for my lighting rigs. Creeping closer, I raised it above my head.

A shadow. A man. A Hunter. He rounded the corner with a spoon dangling from his mouth and a jar of Nutella in one hand. The words were muffled behind the spoon but came through loud and clear. “Who the fuck are you?”

His gray sweatpants were slung so low on his hips the Adonis belt of muscles leading straight to his package was slap-me-in-the-face evident.

The pipe fell from my grip, clattering to the floor. I was dick-dumbstruck for a second.

The ratty t-shirt with holes in it looked like it had been expertly distressed for the perfect vintage look.

His bleary, blue-eyed, piercing gaze snapped to the pipe I’d thought of bludgeoning him with and he slipped the spoon out of his mouth and shoved it into the jar. Jaw tight, lips pinched, muscles taut, he glared.

He had the look of a guy who used to be the cutest little boy on the playground, who girls had fawned over, and instead of losing all that childhood adorableness, it had morphed into killer looks with the faintest hint of boyishness to make you drop your guard—and panties—immediately.

The door behind me swung open.

“Sabrina, I’ll have to make two trips to get everything up. If it’s okay with you, I can move your car into the parking spot for this apartment so you don’t have to worry about the meter.” Ian rumbled in behind me. “Hey, Hunter. Thanks again for getting that scotch for my dad. I swear, he teared up when he opened the box.”

My back pressed against the entryway hall. My head whipped back and forth from Ian to Hunter.

“What the hell, Ian? You’re just letting this random woman into my apartment?” His voice boomed all kinds of pissed.

Ian froze, staring at me like I had all the answers to why my new roommate had flipped out. “She’s on the list.”

I shot Ian an apologetic look. Maybe Hunter had been expecting me later today?

“Hi, sorry about the pipe.” I caught it with my foot and slid it behind me and extended my hand with a smile. “I’m Sabrina. Your new roommate.”

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