REBEL, a New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) (16 page)

“What’d the landlord say about this?” he finally asks.

“She was gone when it happened, so she didn’t say anything.”

“Cops?”

“Didn’t bother calling them.
 
Nothing was stolen.”

He shakes his head again, moving into the apartment.
 
Grabbing a box, he starts throwing stuff into it.

“What are you doing?
 
I can clean this later.”

“Pack it up.
 
Pack it all up.”

“What?
 
Why?”
 
He’s already got most of my clothes into two boxes before I get a response.

“You can’t stay here.”

“I know.
 
That’s why I was in my car.” I move towards him and take the box from his hand, dropping it on the floor.
 
“Don’t worry about it.
 
I can clean this up later.”

“I’m not cleaning.
 
I’m packing.” He grabs another box and throws my books and papers inside.

“I just moved in here!”

“And now you’re moving out.”

My jaw drops open and my hands settle on my hips.
 
“You’re not the boss of me!”

“Yes, I am.”
 
He doesn’t even look at me.
 
He just keeps packing.

“Maybe at work you are, but not here.”
 
I take two strides in his direction and grab the box he’s holding in his hand.
 
Yanking on it, I fully intend to end this little game right now.
 
“Give it,” I insist.

He doesn’t let go.
 
Instead, he pulls the box towards him and I lose my balance, falling into him.
 
“
You
give it.”

Suddenly we’re in a tug-of-war over that stupid box.
 
I grab it with both hands and yank for all I’m worth.
 
“Leave it alone!” I shout.
 
“This is
my
crap and
my
problem and
my
apartment!”

“Everything okay in here?” says a voice from the doorway.

I drop the box instantly and straighten up, embarrassed to be caught having a tantrum.
 
“Oh, hey, Julio. What’s up?”
 
I brush my loose hair to the side and wipe off my sweaty upper lip with the back of my hand.

He takes a step inside.
 
“You need my help?”
 
He’s eyeing Rebel and taking on a fighter’s stance.

Rebel backs up a little and bends over, throwing more things into the box, ignoring Julio’s obvious threat.

I try to snatch the box away from Rebel while also keeping an eye on Julio, but he moves it out of my reach.

“I’m okay,” I explain.
 
“I’m just having a little argument with my boss.”

“Your boss?”
 
Julio relaxes his stance a fraction.

“Yeah.
 
This is my boss.”

Julio screws up his face.
 
“You’re a … you’re a …”
 
His mouth moves, but the words stop coming out.

“I’m a what?”
 
Now I’m pissed at him too.
 
None of the people in my life are acting right, including me.
 
I hate that I have no idea what’s going on in my world right now.

Julio’s face goes red and he backs towards the door.

“What?!” I yell at him.

Rebel speaks up from behind me.
 
“She’s not a hooker and I’m not a pimp.
 
I own a car repair shop and she’s the secretary there.”

Julio breaks out a huge grin.
 
“Ooooh, yeah, okay … that makes way more sense.”

I cross my arms, now offended for a totally different reason.
 
“What?
 
I can’t be a hooker, is that what you’re saying?”

Julio laughs and gestures at my outfit.
 
“Not wearing that, you can’t.”
 
He backs out of the apartment.
 
“Talk to you later.
 
Or maybe you’re moving out …?”

“No.” I say, at the exact same moment Rebel says, “Yes.
 
She is.”

“Okay then,” Julio says, still smiling.
 
“Later. Come see me before you’re gone for good.”
 
He disappears down the hall.

I turn my ire on Rebel.
 
“Who do you think you are?!
 
You can’t just come in here and take over my life. And for your information, I’m
not
a secretary.”

He drops the box he was holding in his hand.
 
“Fine. You want to stay here tonight by yourself?”
 
He starts walking towards the door.
 
He’s almost there when I realize what I’m about to do. Yeah, I’m stupid, but I’m not that stupid.

“Wait!” I scream before I can get a handle on my emotions.

He stops.

“Please don’t go,” I say in a calmer voice. “I’m sorry I’m being an asshole.
 
Really, I am.
 
Just … if you could help me fix the door, that would be awesome.”

He turns around real slow and stands there looking at me.

My heart is beating wildly in my chest and I’m breathing heavily from it.
 
When he takes three steps in my direction, I have to force my feet to stay in place and not run me into the far corner of the room.

He stops when he’s in front of me, and I have to tilt my head up to see his face.

“It’s not safe for you here. Fixing that door with the tools I have with me isn’t going to be enough. I’m going to let you stay in my brother’s apartment for a few days until you can get this worked out.
 
You can pay me rent for it later if you want, but you can’t stay here tonight.
 
I’m sorry if you don’t like me saying this, but I’m not going to let you do it.
 
It’s as simple as that.”

For a few seconds I can’t think of what to say.
 
Then my brain decides there’s one thing that’s more important than commenting on responsibility and friendship and bossiness and protectiveness and a girl who stood looking perfect at a club on his arm and all the other things that might be going on here or that need to be said.

“Do you realize that’s the longest sentence you’ve ever strung together in my presence?”

He grunts and then goes back to filling up boxes and my suitcases.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

AS UNCOMFORTABLE AS I AM with accepting his charity, I have to admit that I’m nearly crying with happiness over the hot shower that I finally get to take in his brother’s apartment.
 
I shampoo my hair three times to get all the oilyness out of it and even take the time to blow it out with a dryer I find under the sink.
 
It’s never been so silky and shiny as it is right now.
 
I want to be in a hair commercial.
 
I’d totally sell the hell out of whatever shampoo I was pimping if people could see me now.

I use my heavily scented shower gel to scrub away the last of the grime from my skin and make it glow.
 
I look as though I’ve spent the day at a spa.
 
Now I’m not a cat-pee couch; I’m a slightly tattered but very comfortable recliner.

An hour after my arrival, I feel like a completely new person. Now I can investigate my temporary digs without being disgusted by my own stink.

Rebel left me almost an hour ago with the promise to come back with lightbulbs.
 
I go to the kitchen and turn on the switch but nothing happens.
 
I’m left with a single light burning in a lamp in the main living room and the bathroom light.
 
Everything else is dark.

There’s a tap at the door that makes me jump.
 
“Who is it?” I ask, feeling stupid.
 
Of course it’s Rebel.
 
Who else would it be?

“It’s me. I have those lightbulbs.”

I had planned on sleeping in my underpants since everything else I own is too dirty, so I race to put my jumpsuit back on.
 
“Just a sec!”
 
When I’m sure I’m all zipped up with no skin showing, I answer the door.

He looks at me with a funny expression before coming in.
 
“I found two for the kitchen and one for the living room, but you’ll still be missing one in the closet and over the breakfast area until tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it.
 
You don’t have to do this.
 
I won’t be here that long.”
 
I follow him into the kitchen and notice that he’s also taken a shower.
 
My heart skips a beat when I think for a second that maybe he did it for me.
 
But that’s stupid … everyone takes showers after work.
 
He probably has a date later or something.
 
His cologne or whatever it is I smell is almost intoxicating.
 
I shake my head a little to get it out of those clouds.
 
No need to go all stalker on the guy, especially when he’s being so cool.

“Thanks, Rebel.
 
This is really above and beyond, you know.
 
You didn’t have to do any of this.”
 
I wonder if his girlfriend will be jealous that he’s being so nice to me, but I don’t want to talk about her and bring her presence into this place.
 
I really dislike her and I don’t even know her or have a reason to feel this way.
 
I’ve only seen her once, but watching her drape herself over Rebel was just plain awful.
 
It’s stupid and I don’t want Rebel to know how irrational and ridiculous I can be.

Oops.
 
Too late.
 
I sigh at my amateur shower-burglary moves. Back to cat-pee couch status.

“Couldn’t let you stay in that place,” he says, either ignoring or oblivious to my frustration as he takes a chair from the breakfast area.
 
He brings it around the counter and into the middle of the kitchen. “It wasn’t safe.”

I can’t argue with him about the safety of the Golden Legacy.
 
“You’re not responsible for me, though.”

He looks over his shoulder after standing on a chair to reach the ceiling.
 
“Offering you a place to stay isn’t taking responsibility for you.
 
It’s just doing the right thing.”

I feel silly now for suggesting he was doing that.
 
“I just don’t want you to think I’m some kind of helpless chick or something.”

A ghost of a smile moves across his mouth before he turns away and focuses on the light.

“What was that look for?” I ask.

“Helpless.
 
That’s not how I’d describe you.”

That makes me really happy for some reason. Probably happier than it should.
 
It feels like a huge compliment coming from him.
 
“How
would
you describe me, then?”

I don’t realize how flirtatious that sounds until he turns around and gives me a look that gets my face burning.

“Don’t answer that,” I rush to say.
 
My pulse is fluttering in my wrist and neck, out of control.
 
I try to tell myself that I’m worried about that blonde girl; she could probably take me since she’s like a foot taller than I am.
 
But when I can’t stop staring at his muscles, I know it’s all just a stupid game I’m playing with myself.
 
Oh, shit, I’m getting myself into trouble here.
 
Look away!

He does me the favor of ignoring me and saying nothing, and that’s when I realize this whole silent treatment thing he has going on is actually kind of cool.
 
I can open my mouth and shove my foot in there and he’ll never say anything to make me feel bad about it.
 
I just have to stew in my own embarrassment, but at least it’s not something we have to agonize over out loud together.
 
I force myself to look around the apartment instead of at him.

“So, this is your brother’s place, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Where is he now?”

“Away.”
 
Rebel finishes screwing in the bulb he started with and moves on to another one.

“Mick told me he’s in jail.”

Rebel hisses out a lungful of air.
 
“Mick talks too much.”

“I think he talks just the right amount, actually.
 
You know … some people might take your lack of talking as rudeness.”

He ignores me.
 
Again.

“But I don’t.
 
Not now anyway.
 
I used to, but I’m kind of getting used to it.”

I fill up the silence with more blather, because being around him when he smells and looks so good makes me very uncomfortable and the lack of sound makes it even worse.
 
“Yeah, you’re more the strong, silent type.
 
Still waters run deep kind of thing.
 
I’ll bet you have all kinds of stuff going on in your head that you just don’t share.”

I can’t be sure, but it’s possible I see his shoulders move in response to that last comment.
 
It makes me think that I need to pay more attention to his body language.
 
Maybe he’s yelling shit at me all the time; I just haven’t been noticing his native language.

I decide to experiment.
 
“I heard your brother’s nickname is Trouble.”

Shoulders back.
 
Head up.
 
He’s pissed.
 
Boom
.
 
I’m getting this!
 
I can speak his language or at least understand it.

“But you don’t agree with that,” I translate. “He’s not trouble.”

“Yes, he is.
 
You stay away from him.”

“He is?
 
How so?
 
Is he dangerous?”