Landlady: A New Adult Romance (Northbridge Nights Book 1) (20 page)

I hugged the dog to my chest and hauled him out as carefully as I
could. He was heavier than he looked, especially since his fur was
soaked. I lumbered up to the vet's office, and a young brunette
opened the door for me.

“I hit him by accident,” I said, hardly able to catch my breath.
“Help.”

“Are you the owner?” the brunette asked.

I shook my head. “He was wandering around out on Interstate Five. I
didn't see him.”

“Okay, let's bring him inside.” I followed her into one of the
rooms. It looked organized and sterile.

The brunette had a clipboard. “I'll need you to fill this out to
the best of your ability. Doctor Hadras will be here shortly.”

“Thank you.”

I took the clipboard and started to fill out my contact information.
Occasionally I'd sneak glances at the poor German Shepherd. His eyes
were shut, and he was hardly moving at all now. The gash on his belly
ran from his front to rear legs. It looked really bad.

“Hi, my name is Dr. Susan Hadras,” a woman said behind me.

“Asher Morgan.”

The woman's eyes lit up. “I think I've seen you somewhere, right?”

I scratched my head. “Yeah. There's a billboard out on the
Interstate with my face on it. For a law firm.”
A law firm I no
longer worked at.

“Yeah, that's probably it,” she said. “You look even better in
person.”

“Thanks,” I said. “How is he?” I gestured to the dog.

“We'll need to clean him up and give him some stitches,” Susan
said. “But his vitals look good.”

“I feel awful,” I admitted.

“Don't,” Susan said. “This is the second time someone's brought
him in this month. He's a stray. He often wanders around and onto the
highway. It's not your fault.”

First, Sierra breaks her leg because of me. Now this dog might never
walk again, also because of me. Was I just a magnet for bad luck?

“The rain
—
I couldn't see.”

Susan rested a hand on my arm. “It's okay, we'll fix him. Don't
worry. Why don't you take a seat outside?”

“Thanks, doctor.” I left the room and made my way back to the
waiting area. Shit, what a load of rotten luck today. At least he
would survive. I would've been gutted if I'd killed him, even if it
was an accident.

“Asher?”

I bit my lip.

That voice.

No.

Could it be?

I looked up and rubbed my eyes. And there she was, looking like a
mirage. “
Vicky
? Holy shit, what are you doing here?”

“Asher Morgan,” Vicky smiled. “It
is
you.” She arched
a perfectly plucked brow. “What brings you here? Is something wrong
with Bowser?”

“No, he's fine. Rowdy as ever,” I said. “I'm here because I
accidentally hit a stray while I was heading home.”

“What were you doing around these parts this time of night?”
Vicky asked. “Seeing a client?”

“No, I was
—
” I wanted to say
'visiting my girlfriend' but for some reason, the words refused to
come out. “It's not important. Anyway, thank God I didn't kill him.
Why are you here?”

“I got a new puppy. He's getting his shots,” Vicky said.

“Why'd you come here? Why not the vet in the city?”

“I live here now,” Vicky said. “Moved to Westport about a week
ago.”

“You? On a farm? With your husband?” Somehow I couldn't quite
picture that. Vicky couldn't stand getting dirty.

“No,” Vicky said, brushing a stray lock of black hair from her
eyes. “Just me and my puppy. Her name's Ella.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Hal and I separated about two weeks ago,” Vicky explained. “It
wasn't working out.”

I did the math in my head. They couldn't have been married for more
than two months.

“I'm sorry to hear that, Vicky,” I said.

She was as gorgeous as ever, but I felt guilty for even noticing.

Vicky Amari was a Persian princess and ex-model. She'd started
modeling when she was only nineteen and semi-retired by the time she
hit twenty-eight. She was thirty now and looked sexier than ever with
long, midnight lashes and pouty pink lips.

Even though it was pouring rain outside, Vicky was still dressed in a
high fashion ensemble: an empire waist, floor-length evening gown
paired with red stilettos.

I gave her a quick once-over. “Were you planning to go to a party
or something? You're dressed to the nines.”

“Actually yes. Just a small dinner party in Eastport at eight.
Thought I'd squeeze in the vaccines before heading over,” Vicky
said.

“Horrible weather today,” I remarked, feeling terrible for acting
so awkward around someone I'd known for almost ten years. We'd met
when she was twenty-two, a bright-eyed socialite, heavy into the
drinking and party scene in college. We'd bonded over a few shots of
tequila, and I'd invited her back to my place only to be spurned in
front of all my friends. Of course, I'd chased after her like a
lovesick puppy, but she never gave me a chance. She was more
interested in dating older men at the time, sometimes men almost
twice her age.

We'd stayed in touch over the years. She traveled all over the world
for work, and we'd meet up for drinks once in a while when she was
back in town. Nothing happened until she came up with that stupid
fake engagement charade. I was dumb enough to think it was the
perfect opportunity to show her how good we could be together.
Perhaps win her heart over so she'd give me a chance. She'd
tantalized me for so many years that it was like a fantasy come true.

To keep up with appearances, she'd slept over every night for a week.
On the last night we were together, she even gave me a blowjob. It
had been spontaneous. We'd had one too many drinks. It just happened,
and I loved every second of it. Too bad she didn't feel the same way.
For her, it'd just been a horrible mistake. One she opted to forget
immediately afterward.

She left without so much as a goodbye, and it wasn't until weeks
later that I realized she'd gotten married to her secret boyfriend.
She'd cheated on him with me and then run away. She was poison. She
was the type of woman who gave me trust issues. I mean, she sucked my
dick while she was dating that Haljit character. No wonder things
didn't work out. I had no sympathy for her...

So why the hell was I suddenly picturing her perfect lips wrapped
around my cock again?

Get a fucking grip, Asher!

“I should get going,” Vicky said, picking up her puppy. “It was
nice seeing you again, Asher.”

“You too, Vicky.”

“Maybe we can grab drinks sometime?”

“Sure,” I replied without thinking.

After Vicky had left, I felt as if I should've said something more.
Asked for her number or some way to keep in touch with her. I
obviously didn't want to rekindle anything romantically, but I'd
missed talking and laughing with her. She was a bit of a wildcard,
and her life was always full of drama, but she was also unbelievably
fun to be around.

I was still hating myself when Vicky popped back inside. Was this a
sign?

“This is super embarrassing, Asher, but my car has a flat, and I
don't have a spare. Is there any way you can give me a ride?”

I almost jumped to the occasion. Then I remembered I still had a dog
in the operating room.

“Probably,” I said. “Let me just ask about the dog.”

I quickly asked the brunette about the dog's situation. She popped
into the room and returned minutes later saying that I should return
tomorrow morning since Dr. Hadras wanted to keep him overnight for
observation. I thanked her and turned back to Vicky. “Where are you
headed?”

“It's just a ten-minute drive down the road,” she beamed. “Thanks
so much, Asher. It'd be impossible to catch a taxi around here in
this weather.”

“No worries,” I said.

Vicky's heady and familiar perfume swam under my nose as I opened the
passenger door for her. She slinked inside, and I made my way around
to the driver's side.

When we were finally underway, Vicky thanked me again. She asked
about work, and I said it was fine. She didn't need to know that I
got fired today. I asked her what she was up to these days, and she
said she was starting up a modeling agency in Eastport. She wanted to
live on a farm to reconnect with nature and get away from all the
paparazzi. It made sense, I guess.

The conversation reached a lull, and I focused on the road ahead. The
rain had died down somewhat, but the roads were still slick and wound
around the hill in tight curves.

“You know, you could join me,” Vicky said. “Have a few drinks.
My friends won't mind. I think you might've even met some of them
before. You remember Ulana Croller and Sidney Malone?”

The names conjured up vague memories and blurry faces. “They ring a
bell. But listen, I should go home and take a shower. It's been a
long day for me. Thanks, though, for the invite.”

“Alright,” Vicky said, a little dejected. “Just pull up here.”

I turned up the driveway of an impressive looking mansion. It was the
largest property for miles, and the most modern-looking one nestled
beside the endless farmland.

“Strange place to build a mansion,” I noted.

“The host, Peter Trianni, is an eccentric man,” Vicky said. “Are
you sure you don't want to come in? At least change out of those
clothes and let them dry off for a bit. Grab a bite to eat.”

She did make a good point. Besides, I was famished. I hadn't eaten
all day.

“Alright, just until my clothes dry off,” I said.

“It'll be fun, I promise, Asher,” Vicky said, patting my hand.
She hoisted her puppy, a Chihuahua, under her arm and opened the
door.

We strode arm and arm into the mansion. I felt a sour taste in the
back of my mouth. None of this sat right, but I was too miserable to
think about anything other than a warm room and a good meal.

“Vicky! About time you showed up,” a balding, stocky man said.
“Who's your friend?”

Vicky smiled at me. “Peter, this is an old friend of mine, Asher
Morgan. I bumped into him at the vet, and he was gracious enough to
drive me over after my car got a flat.”

“Well,” Peter said, patting my back. “A friend of Vicky's is a
friend of mine. Come in, come in.”

Once I stepped inside, I noticed the tasteful modern artwork and
massive chandelier dangling above my head. The vaulted ceilings and
wide open space made Peter's home look like a palace.

“You're soaked,” Peter noted. “Nasty weather, isn't it? Lucia
will get you a change of clothes.”

“Thank you...Peter.”

“Now, Vicky, I have some friends who are dying to meet you,”
Peter said.

I looked around and found a wide-eyed Latina staring at me. “Follow
me please,” she said.

I trailed behind her as she led me down the hall and took me to a
room filled with all sorts of clothing: from what looked like
Halloween costumes to fluffy sleepwear.

“Mr. Trianni is a fashion designer,” Lucia explained. “You can
pick anything from here to wear.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “What's the most...normal outfit in
here?”

Lucia unhooked a red, orange, and white striped suit from the rack.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “You're free to see for yourself.” She handed me a
pair of white trousers. “These go with the suit.”

I shrugged. “Alright then. Can I have some privacy...to change?”

“Yes. I'll be outside.”

When I re-emerged in the foyer, I looked like fucking Dick van Dyke
in Mary Poppins. Give me a matching straw hat and cane and I'll start
singing 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious'.

Apparently, the others got a similar vibe.

“Well if it isn't Bert from Mary Poppins,” Peter laughed. “Did
you pick it yourself or did Lucia give you a hand?”

“I'm afraid I'll have to give Lucia all the credit,” I said.

“Come, sit. Dinner is being served.”

Over steak dinner, Peter introduced me to half a dozen fashion
industry moguls. I'd never heard of any of them before. They talked
about cravat trends in Europe and all-around celebrity gossip. I was
getting quite bored actually and stifled a yawn.

“You wanna get out of here?” Vicky whispered. “I'm bored.”

Glad she felt the same way, I nodded. “Thought you'd never ask.”

Vicky leaned in and whispered a few words to Peter. Peter nodded and
then said to me, “Well, it was nice meeting you, Asher. Hope to see
you again sometime.”

Unlikely
, I thought. But I smiled. “Likewise. Thank you for
dinner.”

Once Vicky was back inside my car, she giggled and let out a small
hiccup. I realized she'd had a few too many glasses of wine. At least
one of us was sober, or I could see this situation going in the wrong
direction. She stroked her puppy's back and said, “I guess you'll
have to drive me home now.”

“Where do you live?”

“901 Friarstorm Road.”

I hoped my GPS would work when I plugged in the address. It did.

As I started the engine, Vicky leaned into me and said, “So, Ash,
are you seeing anyone?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes. I am, actually. Her name is Sierra.”

“Oh?” Vicky seemed to perk up. “Is it serious?”

“Yeah. Kinda,” I said. I wished my voice carried more resolve
instead of sounding so apprehensive.

“You should introduce me sometime,” Vicky said. “I'd love to
meet her.”

“Vicky
—
”

“Don't worry, I'll be on my best behavior,” she said.

I shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe.”

“What's the matter? Think I'll corrupt her? Or are you worried
she'll find out about
—
”

“
—
Vicky, that's all in the past
now,” I reminded her.

“Is it?” Vicky leaned in and kissed my earlobe. Before I could
swat her away, she sucked my ear between her lips and moaned. A
sultry sound. I felt an unwanted stirring between my legs.