Take the Chance (Top Shelf Romance #9) - Brittainy Cherry Page 0,102

row of Victorian houses, each tucked between another, in a variety of colors. I glanced down at the address on my hand, then up to a cream-colored three-story wedged between a smaller, beige house, and one the color of old brick.

“That’s the one,” I said, pointing to the cream-colored.

“You’re kidding.” Max stared. “You’re going to live there? By yourself?”

“The studio on the third floor,” I said, hefting my backpack. “It’s really pretty, isn’t it?”

“Really pretty?” Max gaped. “That house is rent-controlled?”

“There’s that word again. Are you going to laugh or cry?”

“Cry.” He whistled through his teeth. “What you have here is a unicorn eating four-leaf clovers while shitting rainbow turds in the shape of winning lottery numbers.”

I laughed. “Well, it’s only for six months, and then I have to give it back and find a new place.”

“That’ll suck,” Max said. “After this Shangri-La, you’re going to be shell-shocked at how the rest of us plebes make it in SF.”

“That’s easy, I’ll just shack up with you.”

He laughed. “Maybe. But I could be outta here in a few months. Maybe sooner.”

I sagged. “What? Noooo. Don’t say that. I like you too much already.”

“Nothing set in stone, but I have a potential job transfer to Seattle in the works.” Max smiled down at me with warmth in his eyes. “I like you a lot, too. I don’t think I’ve ever made a friend faster.”

“I don’t like to waste time,” I said with a grin. “Want to come check out my unicorn?”

“So I can be more jealous? Some other time. In fact...” He pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and checked the time. “Oh shit, I gotta run. My shift starts in twenty,” he said. “But I’ll take your bag up.”

“Nope, I got it.” I took it off his shoulder and dumped it on the sidewalk.

“You sure?”

“I carry my own weight, bub.”

“Okay, then.” Max offered his hand. “Good to meet you, Darlene.”

I scoffed at his hand and gave him a hug. His arms went around me and I felt his broad chest reverberate with a chuckle.

“Mmmm, you smell like bus.”

“Eau de Greyhound.”

He pulled away, still grinning. “I’ll see you Friday night. At the Y on Buchanan Street. Room 14. Nine o’clock, sharp.”

I pursed my lips. “Friday night? Ugh.”

“Disappointed?” He held his hands out and started walking backwards to the bus stop. “Cry it out in your rent-controlled penthouse.”

I laughed and hefted my army bag with a grunt, and stepped up to the house. The Victorian really was beautiful, and perfectly maintained. My key turned in the lock and I stepped inside a tiny entry.

I was no architect, but I could tell the house had once been a house and was now cut up into separate flats. I peeked around a wall that no sane homeowner would put in the entry, to see a tiny laundry room with one coin-op washer and dryer. On the other side of the hallway was a door with #1 on it. A potted plant and welcome mat with bright colors adorned the threshold. Faintly, I could hear what sounded like Spanish music and the sound of children’s laughter.

I dragged my army duffel up the one flight of stairs to an awkward landing—also a new construction to give the second floor some separation. The door on this floor was marked #2 and had no welcome mat or plant or décor of any kind. Silence on the other side.

I continued up one more flight. The ceiling was lower and angled, and door #3 opened on a tiny studio. Bed, table, chair, kitchen and postage-stamp bathroom. My friend in NYC who had arranged this sublet for me said the owner—a gal named Rachel who worked for Greenpeace—had cleaned the place out of everything but sheets, towels, pots and pans. It could not have been more perfect; I didn’t need much.

A slow smile spread over my lips, and I shut the door behind me. I headed to the window where I had to duck my head a little at the sloped ceiling. The view stole my breath. Rows of Victorians lined up on the hill, and over their roofs, the city spread out before me. It was a different kind of city than New York. A quieter city; with colorful old buildings, hills, a green rectangle of a park, all cradled in the blue of a bay.

I sucked in a breath and blew it out my cheeks.

“I can do this.”

But after a three-day bus ride, I was too