My phone vibrated on my newly made bed. Speak of the devil. Cat calls.
Fifteen minutes into our phone call, I had shaken my head so much my neck hurt.
“I’m going to need a more in-depth description of the previously mentioned cock cleavage.” Cat Wright, the world’s most outstanding best friend, yawned on the other end of the line.
“It’s three in the morning for you. Don’t you have better things to be doing?”
“Like what?” The words were muffled behind another yawn.
“I don’t know. Go to sleep so you don’t start a diplomatic incident with a shoddy translation tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“Oh yeah. Sleeping in my car tends to make the days blur together.” Burning anger and crushing guilt took turns putting me in a stranglehold. I took a shaky breath to loosen their grip on my throat. I latched on to a topic change to help. “Wait, Saturday? When has the weekend ever stopped your bosses from calling you in to work?”
“Tell me about it. If the paycheck wasn’t as insane as it is, I’d tell them to all go fuck themselves, but then I’d have to hire someone to bring in a squad of supermodels to peg them all on pillow-top mattresses covered in rose petals.”
“What the hell did your job description look like?”
“It was long and detailed,” she deadpanned.
“Back to you getting some sleep.”
“You’re right. I should. Who knows when one of them will call me. It’ll probably be right when my Henry Cavill dream gets to the good part.”
“Thank god my sleep has been dreamless after leaving you-know-who.” I’d braced for nightmares, but I’d take the blissful void over the grip of fear any day.
“Fuckface Von Asshole doesn’t get a name anymore?”
“I don’t want to bring any more bad juju into this new apartment by uttering his name.” Or bringing up any memories of him. It was too raw, too painful.
“How about I utter it for you? I can bellow it from the rooftops. Seth Howe, you are a C U Next Tuesday, and I hope demons pull your balls out through your asshole for hurting my friend.”
I slapped my hand over my eyes, shoulders shaking with laughter. “That was a visual I didn’t need.”
“But it made you laugh,” she teased. “My work here is done.”
“Get some sleep. When are you back in town?”
She yawned again. “For Thanksgiving. Maybe we can do a Friendsgiving and I can check out your hunky new roommate.”
“He’s not that hot.”
“Oh please, I could hear your drooling through the phone when you angrily described him. I see some intense hate-banging in your future.”
I had a flash of him pressing me against the wall, rubbing that glass-cutting jaw against my cheek, before the reality of how that would really go barged into my brain. “Trust me, I’m not his type. He wears cuff links and goes to club openings.”
“You could wear cuff links.”
I laughed. “You know what I mean. I barely want to change out of pajamas most days.”
“But you do from time to time, and you look adorable when you do. Do not stay confined to this new apartment like you did the last one. Go out and live a little. Give Hunter a run for his money.”
Living a little was how I’d ended up with Seth. I should never have texted him back after he’d put the pressure on to get my number that night I’d gone out for happy hour almost two years ago. He’d laid the charm on thick. His pursuit had been relentless. Who didn’t want a guy who only seemed to have eyes for them? Who didn’t want to feel special?
“Once I get to work on the next deadline, then I can finally mail out all these sheets I’ve sold to pay for new samples. Then I’ll think about it.” Selling products sent to me by clients wasn’t exactly straight out of the freelance handbook in how to make a good impression, but desperate times and all that…
“So never. You could just say never. No need to lie to my face.”
“I’m not lying to your face. I’m lying to your voice. How about this deal? Once you’re in town, then we can go out. A girl’s night on the town complete with debauchery, too many drinks, and off-key singing in the back of a cab.”
“Sounds like a Tuesday to me.”
“Of that, I have no doubt. Have fun, be safe and don’t cause any international incidents.”
“You know me.”
“That’s exactly why I’m saying it.”
She laughed. “Love you, Sab.”
“Love you too.” I ended the call, then folded the last of the boxes and slid it into my closet.
I gathered up my pajamas, body wash, and towel, then peeked into my bathroom. The modern shower contrasted with much of the more classic interior throughout the apartment. Everything else was crown molding, chair rails, and ornate light fixtures, but the bathroom was a stylish spa surprise. Only it didn’t have a tub. I wanted a deep, luxurious bathtub where I could close my eyes, wash away my worries, and relax for a solid half hour.
My muscles ached from the work I’d done today. Tapping my finger against my lips, I spun on my heels.
Hunter’s less-than-stellar apartment tour had given me one peek into his room and bathroom. The bathroom with a tub.
Tiptoeing out of my room, I glanced down the hallway and my heart skipped into overdrive. With at least ten glances over my shoulder in the ten feet to his bedroom door, I knocked on the partially opened door even though he’d been gone for hours already.
“Hunter…” I poked my head in and listened for any signs of life.
It was a bath. Not a huge deal, right? He’d said I couldn’t come into his room, but not his bathroom. I was splitting hairs—okay, more ripping them out by the roots—but my shoulders and thighs were killing me right now.
I wasn’t coming in to steal anything—well, other than some time in his bath.
Walking into his bathroom, I sighed. The peek I’d gotten of the tub didn’t do it justice. I brushed away an imaginary tear, my muscles no longer screaming with fatigue, but with joy. A white, freestanding, wide-ledge soaking tub big enough for three people stood against one wall. The raised back on one end was perfect for lying back and resting sore muscles.
Barbara had excellent taste. A chandelier hung over the bath. The handles and shower attachment were modern and sleek brass. Dimmers around the bathroom gave cozy a whole new meaning. A glass enclosed rainforest shower on the right had all of Hunter’s soaps inside. He’d probably never even used the bath. If anything, I was doing a service to Barbara to check on it and make sure it was in working order.
After a little trial and error, I figured out the stopper and turned on the water to my perfect temperature.
Peering out of the bathroom, I held my breath straining to hear the slightest sound over the running water and praying that Hunter the Party Guy wouldn’t make this an early night. It wasn’t even eleven yet. I’d have plenty of time. I added some lavender oil to the running water and got undressed.
Hopefully after my bath, I’d finally get a good night’s rest. The bed had been so comfortable for the three seconds I’d laid on it. But what if he was a total manwhore who brought women home all the time and enjoyed loud, noisy late-night activities that would keep me up? Not that it was any of my business, but the last thing I needed was another asshole who couldn’t keep it in his pants.