Ruby Dragon (Awakened Dragons Book 3) (2 page)

“The what?” he asked.

Was he stupid? “The woman who runs the building. Handles complaints.”

“Ah, she’s a woman,” he said. “Excellent. Call her.”

She let out a growl and headed back to her door. She’d sent as strong a message as she could, and now she just wanted to get away from the ridiculous man before his pheromones made her do something she’d regret.

“Shut up the cat,” she demanded. Then she slammed her door.

She wouldn’t feel guilty about the confused, slightly lost expression he’d had as she shut the door.

She had enough to deal with already.

R
ed stroked
Pumpkin as she yowled and scratched her way out of his arms.

Perhaps the blond woman who’d yelled at him so thoroughly the night before had a point. Maybe, against all odds, Pumpkin simply didn’t want him to touch her.

Then why did she have to be so fluffy? It was intolerable to be alone with only a furball for company that wouldn’t allow his touch.

He watched her hide under the coffee table that had come with the apartment, cleaning off her fur like he was something dirty.

He sighed and pulled out the cat food he’d bought on a lady’s suggestion at the store.

He let out a black claw (he still had minor dragon powers, even with his collar) and cut into the can, unsure how humans managed to get into these things, and then dumped the food onto a plate on the ground, scooting it over in Pumpkin’s direction.

Now that he thought about it, it was a little refreshing to meet a woman who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. A little bit irritating, too.

She was under his skin, and it didn’t even make sense. She wasn’t a woman who would stand out, except for that extremely curly blond hair that popped out of her bun in all directions.

Well, and she did have nice eyes. A light blue like a sky on a summer morning.

And a short, rounded body with generous curves, especially tucked into that luscious little waitress uniform. He felt himself getting hard at the thought and tried to distract himself.

He couldn’t just go around seducing neighbors, and so far, he’d done a good job.

Pumpkin had been a little quieter last night, too, almost as if the woman had calmed her in a way that lasted.

That was interesting. He needed to figure out a way to get her to help, and his usual means of charming women weren’t working.

But he also couldn’t figure out if he only wanted her to help Pumpkin, or if there was perhaps something else he sought from her.

He assumed she was a mystery, and he just wanted to know more about her. He was supposed to be learning about humans after all.

A knock sounded on the door, and he smoothed his tousled hair off his forehead and went to answer it, not knowing who it could be.

When he opened it, he groaned, blocking the doorway with his body.

“Angela. What do you want?”

She was holding a plate of cookies. “Just being neighborly,” she chirped, trying to peek around him into the apartment. “When are you going to let me in already?” She tried to get past him, but he blocked her. She gave his body a long up-and-down look, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

She’d been “neighborly” three times this week alone, and he was getting tired of it.

And she just wasn’t getting the message that he wasn’t interested.

She reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding the cookies and drew a finger down his chest. She had dyed red hair the color of strawberries and a tall, slim body she obviously thought he would find irresistible.

He didn’t.

He was much more drawn to the fiery blue eyes and freckles of the little waitress next door. “I’m sorry, Angela. I’m just not looking for anything right now.”

She took an irritated breath. “It doesn’t have to be serious. You’re hot; you know it. Come on. Just have some fun with me.”

“I said no,” he said firmly, wanting to recoil from her touch but needing to block the door sufficiently. “Look, I appreciate you being friendly, but I—”

He didn’t get to finish because Pumpkin let out a hiss and launched at the doorway.

He grinned, thinking maybe she was going to rescue him, but instead, she sent him a satisfied glare and took off into the hall. If he could hear her thoughts, she’d probably be saying, “Freedom at last!”

He shook his head and kept trying to edge Angela back. Then he heard the door next to him swing open.

It was early in the morning, so his neighbor must be leaving for work.

He took his eyes off Angela long enough to see the blonde coming toward him in her uniform, her hair damp with little curls escaping, her blue eyes fiery.

She was holding Pumpkin. “I was trying to leave for work and this thing came running into my place. Want her back?”

He hesitated.

She sighed. “Take her.”

He looked at Angela, who was still pressing into him.

“Okay,” he said.

Fiery neighbor strode up to them and tapped Angela on the shoulder.
“Move.”

Angela stepped out of the way, looking offended. She tossed her red hair over her shoulder and stormed off. “You know where to find me,” she called to him, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Something tells me you aren’t going to take her up on that,” fiery neighbor muttered. She shoved Pumpkin into his arms but couldn’t resist giving the cat a little rub on the head that made Pumpkin purr.

“Admit it,” he said. “You like her.”

She sighed. “Maybe.”

“She’s cute,” he cooed.

She raised a thin eyebrow. “Is she?”

He supposed one-eyed puffballs weren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but they were his. At least Pumpkin was. “Yeah, I think so. I think she’s irresistible.” He tried to hug her close, squishing her, and she yowled and scrambled out of his hands and back inside.

“There you go again,” his neighbor said. “Smothering her.”

He leaned on the doorway in a position he knew put his body at good advantage. He folded his arms, making sure to flex as many muscles as possible. “Maybe you should come over sometime. Help me figure out what I’m doing wrong.”

She snorted. “In your dreams.” She pulled her purse strap up over her shoulder. “And now I’m off to work.”

“Hey,” he called out. “What’s your name?”

“Faye,” she tossed back to him.

She didn’t even ask for his. Rude but in character for her. He watched Pumpkin sulk under the table again, nibbling at her food, and an idea began to take root in his head.

Perhaps there was a way to get to know this Faye person better
and
get her help with his cat.

Seduction wasn’t the only way to win someone over.

* * *

W
hen Faye got
home that night, it was at least fairly quiet. Who knew what the man was up to next door with his crazy cat.

She smiled slightly at that, remembering how happy Pumpkin had looked when she snuck into her house.

She supposed there was something charming about her. Like how much trouble she gave the man who presumably never had trouble with women in his entire life.

She hung up her coat and purse and got changed into a comfy pair of sweats and a worn-out hoody. After letting her hair out of its tight bun, she massaged her tired scalp. Then she plopped on the couch, exhausted and hungry but too tired to cook.

If Braden hadn’t left her with so many debts, she could just get takeout. As it was, she had to save everything she made. So that meant either Ramen tonight or something she cooked, and both sounded too tiring.

She should have just picked something up after her shift, Braden’s debtors be damned.

She checked the clock and wondered if she should just call it a night and go to sleep, where she wouldn’t feel her tummy rumble.

She stood, her joints aching, and smelled something wonderful coming from the hallway. She sniffed, smelling it again, and sighed.

Pepperoni pizza. Freshly delivered. Her stomach growled, and she tried to ignore it as she headed in the direction of the bedroom, but a knock on her door stopped her.

Who would be here this late?

She opened the door, brushing her hair back, and saw her hottie neighbor, accompanied by his orange cat hissing in one arm, holding a giant pizza box in the other.

She bit her lip, weighing her options, and then begrudgingly opened the door wider, letting him in.

He strode in like he owned the place, looking around before setting the pizza on the table. “Looks much nicer than mine.”

“That I don’t doubt,” she said. With the noises she heard coming from his apartment, she doubted there was anything that wasn’t scratched up.

“No, not scratched,” he said. “I just had no idea this was where everything should go. It makes sense now.” He was staring at the furniture.

She bit her lip. The way he’d answered, it was almost like he’d heard her thoughts.

But that was impossible, even if he were as good with women as he thought.

He sat on the couch as Pumpkin jumped out of his arms and waddled over to her.

She noticed the cat wasn’t just perpetually winking, but actually only had one eye. Her scruffy, uneven fur in that orange color just added to her overall look.

Faye had to admit, just to herself, she actually did find the little thing charming.

“Come here, kitty kitty,” she said, pulling a can out of her cupboard and opening it with a can opener.

He looked over at her, green eyes narrowed in shock, and then stood and cleared the distance between them in seconds. So tall.

He stared down at the can opener in her hand and then took it from her, looking baffled. “What is this?”

She took it back, not liking the electric response her body experienced just having him within a foot of her. “It’s a can opener, obviously. You’ve seen them before.”

He hesitated. “Obviously…”

She finished opening the can and poured the food on a plate for Pumpkin. “I used to feed a couple stray mama cats around here, until they got spayed and adopted. I need to use the food anyway.”

He sat back down on the couch. “I need to get me one of those can openers.”

She laughed. “What are you using, then?”

“My fingers,” he said grumpily.

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking, right?”

“Obviously…?” he said.

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she pulled out plates and brought the pizza box over to set on the coffee table. “Thanks for bringing dinner, but FYI, this is not a date.”

He nodded, letting his perfect hair shimmer. “Of course not. This is me thanking you for rescuing me earlier.”

“I wasn’t rescuing you,” she muttered. “I was just returning your cat.”

“And rescuing me,” he repeated, nodding, his mouth full of pizza. “Which is more than I can say for Pumpkin.” He sent a playful glare at the cat, who looked over her shoulder and hissed.

“She really hates you, doesn’t she?” Faye asked, amused.

He shrugged. “She hates everybody. I didn’t take it personally until I saw she actually likes someone. You.”

“Hm,” she said, looking at the pizza before taking a bite. “So this is what it’s really about? You want me to help with her?”

He nodded. “You do seem to understand cats. And you told me to get help.”

“
Professional
help,” she retorted.

“Are there professional cat tamers?” he asked. “Because they were just going to put her down at the shelter.”

She frowned, her appetite lessening at the thought of that happening to Pumpkin. “I guess I can help. I’m sorry I’ve been so grumpy. I haven’t been sleeping…”

“My bad,” he said. “Our bad.” His full lips pursed, and she found herself staring at the curved dimple at the center of his top lip, wanting to press her finger into it.

Ugh, this was how every woman probably reacted to him.

“Did I do something to you?” he asked. “You know, other than have a demon cat?”

He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt over a blue tee, but it was rolled up, exposing tan, powerful forearms and long, elegant hands. Plus, the tee shirt looked like it probably hugged his chest deliciously.

Like every woman in the world most likely wanted to hug his chest.

“Why?” she asked, distracted.

“Because you seem to hate me,” he said. “And I’d really like it if we could be friends.”

She set down her third slice of pizza. She was feeling warm and full inside, and he’d totally turned her night around. She had to admit maybe she’d been too hard on him at first. “I mean, I don’t really have time for friends.”

He let out a shocked gasp. “No time for friends? Sadness.”

She laughed. “I don’t know. I guess so. Most of the time I find people aren’t worth it.”

He slid a hand over hers. “They can be.”

She jerked back, hating the touch. Hating what it did to her. She stood, feeling her temper fire up. “Get out.”

He raised his eyes to her but stayed seated. “I’m sorry. I’m used to using touch to comfort. I’m sorry.”

She sighed and sat again.

“So can I stay?” He looked like a lost puppy that had wandered into her home.

A very large, good-looking lost puppy.

“Fine.” She relented. “But keep your distance. No touching.”

“Are you this way with everyone?” he asked. “It would explain why you don’t have any friends.”

“I don’t have any friends because I don’t
want
any friends,” she exclaimed, irritated. “What don’t you get about that? I work all day with people, and I don’t feel like consorting with them at night.”

“I do,” he said. “But all I meet are women who want to bed me.”

“Bed you? What are you from, the eighteenth century?”

He opened his mouth to correct her and then shut it. “What is the proper word?”