of shock. What the hell? With an exasperated shake of his head, he tosses his clipboard into the company van and climbs into the driver’s side, before taking off.
“What the hell just happened? Why did you do that?” I round on my neighbor, a frown firmly planted on my face.
Roman rolls his eyes. “He was railroading you. New piping doesn’t cost that much.”
I fix him with a glare, propping my hands on my hips. “How the hell would you know?”
“Because I re-piped my entire house, and I can tell you it didn’t cost no ten grand.”
That shuts me right up. A crease forms between my brows. “Oh.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Yeah, oh.”
I scratch at my head, glancing back at my house, which, from here, is looking more than a little run-down. I really have to start working on the outside, just as much as the inside. If the weeds in the front grow any taller, this place is going to start looking like the home of Michael Myers or something.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“Fucking Christ.” He sighs, swiping a frustrated hand over half his face. Roman starts walking toward my house, and I just stand there, rooted to the spot like an idiot. He pauses on the porch in front of the closed door.
“Well? Open the damn door, so I can have a look.”
“Oh! Right,” I breathe.
I bound up the steps and open the door, wide enough for his tall frame to slip through. Watching Roman walk through my space is beyond weird. He pauses in the living room, near the front door, and surveys the space. He takes in the clumped together furniture, the unpacked boxes, and the horribly worn floors. Feeling the need to defend myself and my purchase of the home that’s obviously more than just a fixer-upper, I jump into a long spiel.
“I’m working on painting. Just need to decide on the color. Then I’ll move on to the floors. I’m hoping sooner rather than later. I originally wanted to go with a simple dark wood, but after watching HGTV for two months straight, I want to try something different. A light, rustic flooring. Kind of like you have. Where did you get the flooring, by the way? Did you do that yourself? I bet you did i—”
When Roman glances over his shoulder at me and quirks a single brow, it shuts me right up. Rambling in front of hot guys seems to be my forte lately.
The entire time he walks through the house, checking on the piping and random things, I can’t help but wring my hands together, shadowing his every move. Having him here in my space is odd and painfully awkward. I don’t think I like it.
Scratch that, I know I don’t like it.
I have the strangest urge to keep explaining my design choices to him, as if he cares. This man, who’s been nothing but rude to me, since the day I showed up on his doorstep with a cake. It’s like he’s incapable of being a decent human. Until now, that is.
At least he’s offering to help. That has to count for something, right?
“I can do it,” he rasps, gaze still surveying my space. “I work every day and have every other Saturday off, but I can make it work.”
I’ve swallowed my tongue. This time I’m sure of it. My throat, mouth, and vocal cords aren’t working. I stand here frozen, completely slack-jawed, staring at Roman like he has two heads.
He seems to grow impatient by my silence—or my surprise—because his eyes narrow and his enticing plump lips thin. “Or I can let you figure this out on your own.”
I shake my head, trying to shake off the effect he’s having on me. “I’m sorry, but what’s happening? I’m so confused. I thought you hated me.”
If it was possible for smoke to billow out of his ears, it would be happening right this second, as he glares down his nose at me. “Christ. Are you stupid?”
I jerk back at his ire. With an aggravated shake of his head, he turns on his heels and storms out. Max, the loyal companion that he is, follows his alpha dutifully. It takes me a while to get my feet and brain to catch up, and by the time I do, he’s already out of my house and halfway across his lawn. I’m left staring after him.
I’m rooted to the spot on my porch with my arms splayed out at my