Landlady: A New Adult Romance (Northbridge Nights Book 1) (4 page)

“Stop speaking in riddles. Just tell me what you mean,” I
demanded.

“I'm only renting the main floor of the house. It has one bedroom
and one bath. The attic and basement are vacant.”

“What?”

“I didn't need all that space. Your grandmother couldn't find
someone to take the whole house so she leased it to me because she
liked me.”

“So...there's no one living in the basement and attic? What's even
in the attic?”

“It's mostly storage space, but I don't keep anything there. The
basement is move-in ready if you want to find another tenant.”

I felt like an idiot. Again. Why did I feel so stupid and naive every
time I saw this man?

“It's the middle of the month, I can't possibly—”

“—Then move in with me.”

“Huh?”

“Move in. Downstairs. Problem solved,” Asher said smugly. “Now
if we're done here, I have a deposition to attend.”

Asher was out the door before I'd even fully processed his words.

+++

“HE SAID WHAT?”

“He asked me to move in with him. Well—what he meant was—”

“How romantic,” Callista teased, twirling spaghetti around her
fork. I'd returned to her place an hour ago, and pasta was on the
dinner menu for the fourth night running. It was about all Cally knew
how to cook. Not that I was complaining. Food was food. Besides, I
probably couldn't do much better.

“That's not funny, Cally.”

“So what's the problem?” Brandon interjected. “You have a place
to stay now, rent-free.”

“The problem, Brandon, is—” I paused mid-sentence. Was there
really a problem with this offer?

Callista giggled. “The problem, Brand, is that Asher the Trespasser
is hot as hell and Sisi won't be able to keep her kitty paws off of
him.”

Brandon did not look happy at that comment.

My cheeks flamed. “I would never!”

Cally kicked me under the table. “You don't have to lie, Sisi,
we're all friends here.”

An image of Asher's naked, rippling chest popped into my head. I
quickly dispelled the fantasy. “I guess I don't really have a
choice, do I?”

“Nope,” Callista smirked. “I'm not putting up with your sloppy
ass for the rest of your life, you know.”

“Gee thanks, babe.”

Callista finished her plate and took it to the sink. “So when are
you moving in?”

I hadn't given it much thought yet, to be honest. “I guess this
weekend. If you're willing to help. Again.”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

“About fucking time,” I thought I heard Brandon whisper.

At least someone was thrilled by my new predicament.

CHAPTER 4

ASHER

COLD BEER IN HAND. Hi-def live streaming of the game on my 80-inch
flatscreen. BBQ ribs cooking in the oven. Bowser snoozing at my feet.
Life was
good.
Mackenzie couldn't score for shit, but Lukos
was showing some real promise. During the second half of the game, I
got a text from Sierra.

SIERRA:
Can I move in this weekend?

I smiled. The sooner, the better as far as I was concerned. I
couldn't wait to get to work melting that frozen heart of hers.

ASHER:
You can move in tonight if you want. ;)

Three little dots started jumping around as she wrote her next
message.

SIERRA:
In your dreams, pretty boy.

ASHER:
So you admit, I
am
pretty.

SIERRA:
Pretty cocky!

ASHER:
Can't deny that either. I'll take compliments wherever I
can get them.

SIERRA:
Are you sure the basement is move-in ready? There aren't
any dead bodies or chained up ex-girlfriends down there, right?

ASHER:
I don't chain my women unless they ask me to. And as far as
I can tell, I haven't smelled anything rotten down there.

SIERRA:
You're getting off on this, aren't you?

ASHER:
Do you want me to get off on this?

SIERRA:
GOOD NIGHT, ASHER.

ASHER:
Sweet dreams, Landlady.

I put down the phone and wondered what the hell had gotten into me.
Was I
flirting
with her? She was at least ten years younger
than me. Practically my little sister Adele's age. And she was my
fucking landlady. Talk about off-limits. I raked my fingers through
my hair and popped open another beer. I prayed to God that her moving
in wasn't a bad idea.

This could backfire in a million different ways...

Worst of all, I was the one who had suggested it.

The next morning, my lips tugged into a smile when I noticed Sierra
had sent me a message late last night. Unlocking my phone, I wondered
why the sight of her name on my home screen made my heart beat
faster.

SIERRA:
Ground rules: no smoking in the house and no loud noises
after 10 p.m. I do laundry every Monday and Thursday. You don't have
any pets right? I'm allergic to cats. Also, what's my share of the
utilities?

Even though her text was all business, I couldn't help but smile
knowing she was thinking about all these things, and about living
with me, at three in the morning.

ASHER:
I don't smoke or have parties in the house. If you happen
to hear screaming after 10p.m., I apologize in advance for my
flawless performance in bed. Giving orgasms is in my nature, and I
can't help it if my partner is a screamer. I hate cats, but I do have
a Boston Terrier. Is that okay? I'll cover all the utilities, don't
worry.

Even though it was only seven a.m., I received her reply within
minutes.

SIERRA:
How does your girlfriend feel about the flirty texts you
send me? P.S. I love dogs. And I insist on paying half if I'm going
to be living there.

This woman.

ASHER:
I haven't had a girlfriend in months. My dog's name is
Bowser. Your half is sixty bucks a month. You can pay it by taking me
out to dinner. Say, tonight?

A voice in my head screamed, “She's your landlady!” but I kicked
it to the curb.

SIERRA:
I'd love to meet Bowser. But just because you have a cute
dog doesn't mean I'll have dinner with you. I'll slip a check under
the door.

This woman! Why did she get on my nerves so much? I was just
realizing now how headstrong she could be. I mean, sixty bucks was
chump change. I got paid six-hundred bucks a fucking hour. But she
still insisted on paying for 'her half.' I guess her sentiment was
admirable, albeit a bit misguided.

After a quick breakfast (scrambled eggs on rye and a protein shake),
I hopped into my Jaguar and drove to work.

I loved being an attorney. My specialty was M&A: mergers and
acquisitions. I graduated from Harvard Law four years ago, summa cum
laude. Passing the courses always came easy to me, probably because I
grew up in a household of lawyers. Both my parents were
well-respected in their field, famous for being cutthroat when need
be, but always staying on the right side of the law.

No one was surprised when I announced I wanted to be an attorney. And
no one was surprised that I'd graduated top of my class and started
work three days later as a Junior Associate at my father's firm. Yes,
there were the typical whispers of nepotism and playing favorites,
but I gave fuck-all about office gossip. I did my job, did it well,
and eventually earned everyone's respect. I proved that just because
I was my father's son, it didn't mean I didn't have the skills to
back it up. Dad and I grew even closer after Mom finally lost her
battle with cancer. We've been a formidable team ever since. And when
I closed the Flotsam LLC v. Kensington case and got our clients an
extra two million dollars, Dad gave me my own office.

Goodbye, cubicle buddies, hello, big leagues.

I wanted to make senior partner within the next three years. Maybe
get my name on the door within five. Yes, I was ambitious, and
everyone knew it. I wasn't ruthless, per se, but I was no fucking
pushover either. I didn't land Flotsam v. Kensington by being a
spineless ass-kisser, that's for sure.

“Morning, Rachelle. You look stunning as always,” I said,
smoothing out my Armani suit.

The raven-haired secretary beamed. “Thanks, Asher. Your nine
o'clock just showed up. Should I bring her in?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

I had my coffee. A full stomach. It was a gorgeous day, and life was
good. In fact, things were going so well I could hardly believe my
luck. Within an hour of starting work, I'd signed on a millionaire
heiress. After two hours, I'd cleared my stack of paperwork. The rest
of my day was a blur. Client after client. Documents to sign,
paralegals to yell at. Phone calls to make. But above all the chaos,
one thought kept me going: the thought of seeing Sierra again this
weekend. I found myself craving the sound of her voice. The sight of
those big brown eyes and yes, I'll admit, her nice ass too. I
wouldn't hesitate to bend her over my lap and spank it again and
again until she screamed for mercy. Pleasure her six ways from
Sunday...

“Asher, your father wants to speak to you,” Rachelle said through
the speakerphone.

“Got it. Thanks.”

I stood up and frowned when I realized my brief sexual fantasy had
given me a stiffy. Shit. I couldn't possibly go see my dad like this.

I went through a mental slideshow of boner-killing images until
disaster was eventually evaded.

I made my way down the hall until I reached the largest corner
office.

Charles Morgan, Managing Partner
, the door read.

I tapped the glass.

“Come in, Asher.”

I slipped into the office and let the door close behind me. “What
is it, Dad? Is it the Holdom merger because I'm working—”

“—No, no. You're doing fine on all your cases. I brought you here
to tell you two things. One, you need more pro bono hours, and two,
to remind you about the charity benefit at the club.” Dad's
salt-and-pepper mustache wiggled as he spoke.

“Oh.” I scratched my neck. “Is that all?”

“You're going, aren't you? Everyone else is.”

“I can definitely do more pro bono hours, but the club—You know I
hate the snobs there.”

My father's tanned, leathery face sank. “Asher—You can't spend
all your days and nights hiding here or at home. You need to get out
there, meet someone. I heard Lauren Skyes is going. She was in your
class, wasn't she? God, son, you need to socialize more.”

“I'm not
hiding,
Dad. Just been busy with work,” I said.
“When is it?”

“Sunday at noon.”

“I have—Someone's moving in this weekend. She might need my
help,” I said, hoping it'd be a good excuse.

“She? Why didn't you tell me you had a girlfriend moving in?”

“She's not my girlfriend,” I said.

“So why is she moving in? Don't tell me you need a roommate in
order to afford the rent.” A worried frown creased Dad's face.

“No dad, it's nothing like that. She's my landlady, and she needs a
place to live.”

“Where did she live before?”

I shrugged. “I have no clue.”

“Why is she moving in now?”

I sighed and quickly explained the whole story.

“Are you sure living with this girl is such a good idea? She sounds
like a distraction. I mean, I'm not opposed to you dating, but I
don't want your head stuck up in the clouds. Especially with this
merger in the works.”

“My head will be 100% down here, on Earth. Don't worry, Dad,” I
said. Somehow, I felt like I was already lying.

“Okay then, why don't you bring this girl to the benefit this
weekend so I can meet her?”

I swallowed hard. I knew exactly what Dad meant when he said he
wanted to 'meet her'. It was his way of saying he wanted to grill her
to see if she was worthy enough to live with me. “Meet her? Dad,
we're not seeing each other or anything. It's platonic.”
Well,
sort of. Not sure how platonic those flirty texts have been but Dad
doesn't need to know that.

“Just bring her as a friend, then. Tell her I want to meet her and
that I personally invited her,” Dad said, emphasizing the word
'personally'. I guess he thought dropping his name would somehow seal
the deal. But I doubted Sierra even knew who he was.

“All right, Dad, I'll ask her.”

“Good. Now get back to work, son.”

CHAPTER FIVE

SIERRA

FOR THE SECOND TIME this month, I was hauling my worldly possessions
up the front steps. Hopefully, this time, I was staying for good
because moving was a huge pain in the ass.

Asher had the door open for me before I even reached the welcome mat.
“Need a hand?”

I was tempted to accept his offer for help, but I didn't want him to
think I couldn't handle it alone. Callista had a work emergency at
the restaurant (she was the assistant manager) so she couldn't come
help me. As a result, I'd spent the better half of the morning making
back and forth trips up and down the elevators, loading up her car.
Okay, so it was only five boxes, but I took Facebook breaks in
between. Thank God Callista had the decency to loan me her ride, or I
would've had to rent a UHAUL.

“I can manage, thanks,” I croaked. My back and shoulders begged
to differ.

I felt his fingers brush against mine. Then, without a word, he was
lifting the box from my arms and bringing it inside the house. I
heard his heavy footsteps make their way down to the basement.

I was relieved. My twiggy arms were practically falling off. Okay, so
I did need some help after all. But I'd never been good at asking for
it. I turned and went to go grab another box.

By the time I reached the front door, Asher was already there,
waiting again. He took the box from me without asking and disappeared
once more into the bowels of the house. I resigned to let him help me
and between the two of us, we quickly brought in all my boxes.