Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Is this your way of saying you’d like to rent this house?”
He gave a thumbs-up. “Yep, it’ll work.”
“Okay, I’ll start the application process.” I slipped my reading glasses on, grateful to have something to do with my hands to distract me from the odd twist that the best one-night stand I might have ever had was renting a house on my street. This was a weird one. And since Smitty obviously wasn’t going anywhere for at least sixty days, it was up to me to suck it up and deal, I mused, sliding my laptop to him. “Fill in your name, etcetera, and I’ll run credit when I’m at the office.”
“Sure thing.” He completed the online form and stepped aside. “Let me know who to send the deposit to, and I’ll take care of it right away.”
“I’ll text you the info and”—I cocked my head—“your name is Errol?”
“That’s a little-known secret, but yeah. So what?” He fixed me with an over-the-top glare, continuing in a menacing tone that would have made Tony Soprano proud. “Are you making fun of me?”
“I—no, of course not. I’m just…surprised.” I bit my lip and squinted at the application. “Errol Smith Paluchek.”
He sighed with exaggerated chagrin. “Errol Smith. If you say it fast, it sounds like?”
“Aerosmith.” I widened my eyes. “You’re named after a seventies band?”
Smitty nodded. “Can you believe that shit?”
I couldn’t help it.…I chuckled.
And once I started, I couldn’t seem to stop. His comedic put-upon delivery contrasted with the twinkle in his eyes. The more I laughed, the more tenuous my tight-fisted grip on propriety became. This was me trying to exercise control over a situation that had nothing to do with me.
So what if Smitty was here, on my street, a stone’s toss from my house? So what if we’d fucked? It was a great night and at the time, I wouldn’t have traded it for a winning lottery ticket. Besides, it wasn’t like he was a jerk. He was a nice guy with a great sense of humor. He was attractive, sexy, and—
Okay, okay. Dial it back a notch, Bryson.
I wiped the corner of my eye and sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny. In fact, it’s cool.”
I snickered at his incredulous snort.
“Cool? Really? Roll call in elementary school was a hoot.” He modulated his voice to a warbly falsetto. “Errol Paluchek, Errol? Do we have an Errol? I mean, c’mon. If my parents had to be hippies about it, why couldn’t they name me Ozzie or Boston or—”
“ABBA?”
And that was all she wrote.
I doubled over, crying with laughter that felt like a cathartic release.
Damn, it was therapeutic. I was a master of etiquette. I’d practiced the art of interpersonal diplomacy and bitten my tongue for so many years I was numb in my desire to please. I strove for perfection, not wanting to alienate, upset, step out of line, or make waves. The old me used to be a troublemaker. I’d been a lot of fun, for sure, but I’d done a lot of damage too.
Even though Smitty’s comment was self-deprecating and obviously meant to amuse, guffawing like a hyena at someone else’s expense was wildly inappropriate. I should have been mortified, but I was too busy shedding layer after layer of artificial polish to worry about offending him.
I wheezed, inhaling deeply in an effort to compose myself…and apologize for losing my ever-loving mind.
Smitty just chuckled as he pulled a napkin from his pocket. “Here, take this. Your brush with a loony-tune moment messed up your mascara.”
“I’m not wearing mascara, idiot,” I snickered, snatching the napkin and dabbing my eyes. “Wow, I’m—that was…I’m sorry.”
His eyes crinkled with mirth. “For what? Having a sense of humor?”
“With a faulty filter, no less.” I fiddled with the edges of the napkin, feeling oddly nervous.
He was so handsome and big…and that smile could light up the whole damn town.
I tried to think of something to say to put us back on topic, and ended up gesturing at the laptop helplessly. “I’ll…uh, get this processed. We’ll run credit and be in contact with the owner. I’m sure the Calmezzos will be thrilled to rent this so quickly, but I think they were hoping for a year-long lease, so—”
“Okay.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean ‘okay’?”
“I can sign a longer lease,” he replied, opening the hall closet. “I’m assuming I’d pay a fee if I had to break it?”
“Yes.” I slipped my laptop in my computer bag. “I couldn’t help noticing you said ‘if’ rather than ‘when’ you break it.”
“Yeah, I might want to stay.”
“Why?”
Smitty gave an amused half smile. “Are you sure you’re the friendliest real estate agent in town?”
“I—well…”
“First, you make fun of my name, and now you’re trying to kick me out.”
“I’m not—”
“Gotta say, other than you, everyone here is really nice,” he teased.