What's Yours is Mine (18 page)

The guy with the clipboard looked around. “It’s gonna be crowded in here. You sure about this?”

Will frowned. “No, she’s not sure. She’s making a big mistake and is going to send it all back now.”

Darcy glared at him. “She has a mind of her own, thank you very much.”
 

The guy waved his clipboard at them. “I’m not getting involved in a lover’s spat. Call when you sort this out.” He gestured to the other two men. “Come on, guys. Guess we gotta get this crap back to the warehouse.”

~*~

No. He. Would. Not.
 

He would not boss her around. Would not disorder her life. Tell her how to live. Judge and judge and judge and stand there like a statue, his arms folded and his eyes shooting daggers.
 

He would not.
 

Darcy stepped out onto the stoop. “Look. I paid for the stuff. He doesn’t have any right to refuse it. He doesn’t even live here. It’s my condo.”
 

Behind her, she could hear the sound of their tentative truce dissolving as Will closed the door. It latched with a soft, telling
snick
.
 

The guy snickered. “Where do you want it delivered? Out here?” He glanced around the courtyard. “Might get chilly at night.”
 

Darcy’s chest constricted. Will had locked her out. He’d actually done it.
 

Fortunately, the day Janet slipped her the key to the condo, Darcy’d had an extra copy made. When she came back that night, she stashed the copy into the side of the raised bed for the bamboo in case Janet needed the original back. Or in case Darcy herself lost her keys on the road. Extra insurance.
 

She could get back in. And the deal was intact. She hadn’t left the premises, after all. He’d locked her out without cause. But that was fine. She’d overlook it and move on. Assuming she could find the key.
 

She crossed to the bamboo grove and slid her hand into the dirt. Where was it? Oh God, had Brianna found it and made off with it? She’d probably thought it was the key to a magical treasure chest buried in the cove or something.
 

In which case, Darcy was stranded out here with none of her things, no laptop or cell phone, not even her car keys. Just a pile of furniture. At least she’d have somewhere to sit.

Ah, there it was. She pulled it out, shaking it between her fingers. Dirt fell off, revealing a gleaming new key.
 

Then, ceremonially, she went to the front door and unlocked it. Take that, Will High-and-Mighty I-Almost-Liked-You Dougherty.

~*~

Will felt a stab of guilt the moment he locked the door. He almost unlocked it again but deliberately walked away, stuffing his hands into his pockets for good measure. She shouldn’t have ordered the furniture. It was a blatant attempt to steamroll him. To literally crowd him out of his own home.

Here they were again. Just when he thought she might have softened, here they were.

And yet the look on her face when she saw the furniture-delivery guys, it was nearly panic. Maybe she’d rethought her plan? If she sent them away, he could let her back in and—

And what? Was he actually feeling guilty for locking her out? He shook his head at himself. At this rate, he’d be handing her the condo on a platter, telling her,
Here, you deserve it more than I do
.

He made himself walk down the short hallway to the bedroom. As he gently creaked the door open, Sheila was leaning over the bed, carefully lifting her sleeping son into her arms. Jakey opened his eyes for a moment. When he saw his mother, he buried his face in her shoulder, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric of her shirt.
 

“I’m sorry I got angry.” Sheila’s voice was pitched soft to keep from jarring her son awake. “Darcy was doing a good thing here, maybe even for the right reasons.”
 

Will swallowed painfully. His conflicting emotions threatened to choke him. “So it seems.”

Sheila eyed him. “She’s not the devil anymore?

He shook his head. “I don’t know, Sheil. She’s still the same pushy, ambitious woman, but there’s more to her. And I…”

She nodded knowingly. “You feel drawn to her.”

He paced across the room. “I can’t. It’s enough of a mess. If, God forbid, we got involved and it didn’t work out, she’d probably take me to court and clean me out.” Better he keep that door locked, both literally and figuratively.
 

Sheila swayed from side to side, giving her son light, rapid pats on the back. “You’re scared.”

“Hell, yes. Wouldn’t you be? She’s a—”

“She’s not Mom. She’s not going to run away and leave you gasping for air while your life falls apart in the wake.”

Annoyed, he gave her a quelling look. “And when did you get your psychology degree?”

“Just because you don’t want to hear it doesn’t mean it’s not true.” Jakey uttered a little moan in his sleep. Sheila rubbed his back until he settled. “Anyway, if she’s the reasonable person she seems to be, maybe you can settle this like adults.”

“What would that entail, exactly?”
 

“I don’t know, write up a list, find a mediator, the person with the most convincing argument wins.”

“That would be me. I built this place. This unit was earmarked. Rightfully, honestly, legally earmarked for me.”

“Well, exactly. So that’s what you should do.” But Sheila seemed distracted by something out the window. “How are they going to get that in here?” Her voice woke Jakey, who started fussing.
 

Will turned to see what she was talking about.
 

Behind him, Jakey started complaining, “Mommy, I’m cold. Go home now. I’m cold, Mommy.”
 

Outside, two of the delivery guys hefted a huge red couch onto his front stoop, grunting as they tried to fit it through the front door. His doorway. Which he’d locked.
 

She’d done it again, turned this into a game of one-upmanship. And right now she had the upper hand. He wasn’t sure which fact bothered him more.
 

Will went racing down the hall.

~*~

“Get that monstrosity out of here! Take it back to the truck! Darcy, this is insane. Even you have to realize that.”
 

Darcy turned and gave Will a pleasant look. If he could do it, act all calm and nonchalant when things heated up, so could she.
 

Though he wasn’t exactly serene right now, was he? His face was reddening, he was breathing hard, his muscles looked bunched up like he was about to punch someone. She’d gotten under his skin. The thought gave her a perverse tickle of pleasure.

“What do you think? Nice, isn’t it?” She gestured toward the couch, now making its wobbly sideways way into the room.

Sheila emerged into the main room from the short hallway that led to the bedroom, her younger son half-cradled, half-slung over her shoulder. It looked wildly uncomfortable—for her. The kid looked blissfully relaxed, as if he were in the most comfy bed in the world. Oh, to be a baby and be able to sleep like that.
 

Sheila stopped and blinked. “What’s going on?”

Darcy waved her hand in the air. “A little redecorating. Why should Will have all the fun?”
 

“Be reasonable. There isn’t room in this condo for two couches.” The breath whistling between his teeth belied Will’s very nearly calm tone.
 

“What a pity. I guess you’ll have to find another home for yours, won’t you?” She smiled at him. This was kind of fun.
 

Sheila looked like she was about to burst into laughter.
 

The couch made it all the way inside. The men leaned it against the wall and stopped to catch their breath.
 

Sheila stepped forward. “This is my exit cue. Good luck, Will. Thanks for the opportunity, Darcy.”

Darcy nodded at her. “I’ll be in touch about the official interview.”

“Great.” Sheila slipped out. The movers sidled out of the way to let her through. Through the open doorway, Darcy saw Sheila look back inside with a wry smile, shake her head, and keep going, heading to Megan Farrow’s condo to pick up her older son.
 

 
“Okay, so where do you want this thing?” The head guy managed to keep a straight face, as did his coworkers. Impressive. They were probably good poker players.
 

Darcy looked around. That was the question, wasn’t it? She pointed. “There.”

Will choked.
 

She ignored him.
 

The movers maneuvered her couch to the spot she’d chosen. Right in front of his couch or, as she preferred to think of it, the old couch. His was perfectly nice and all, with carved wood trim, but it wasn’t terribly comfortable, and she felt weird putting her feet up on the spotless cream upholstery. Her new one was modern and sleek, with long, low cushions and sexy curved arms, and, best of all, it was deep maroon. It made a statement. It popped.
 

And Will couldn’t stop staring at it.

As soon as they put it down, Will stepped forward to yank it out.
 

Darcy put her hand on his arm, stopping him. Her palm prickled from the contact. “Nuh-uh. Legally, this is just as much my home as it is yours. Ergo, my stuff has as much right to be here as yours does. I can call Rafael to double-check if you want.”

Will folded his arms. “You do realize that if you move all that crap in, neither of us will have room to turn around. We’ll be even more in each other’s way.”

Darcy hadn’t thought of that when she placed the order two nights ago. She was too busy being pissed that he got the heavenly bed while she was stuck on the couch from hell. “We’ll make it work. Or you can always move out.” She smiled at him winningly. “You’d think it would get old saying that, but somehow it never does.”

He grunted. Then grunted again, in dismay.

Darcy turned to see what he was looking at. Oh. Right. The enormous cherry dining table with six squat legs, the one she’d only ordered because it would take up half the room and drive Will nuts. She’d clearly been half-delirious with fatigue when she’d pressed
add to cart
. In the bright, cloudless light of a Southern California afternoon, the thing looked hideous.
 

Darcy turned to Will. “Tell you what. I’ll cancel the table if you—”

Will held up his hand. “If I move out. Save your breath. Your shenanigans just convinced me to stay put. You are not taking over my home with this—this monstrosity.” He turned and went back into the bedroom.
 

She was stuck between suppressing a sudden case of the giggles and fighting an irrational desire to run after him. Instead, she went outside to break it to the movers that she didn’t want the dining table after all. She did, however, want the full-length mirror. It would fit nicely on the back of the bathroom door, and Jesus on a pogo stick, a man did not understand the need to make sure boots and shirt and hair all worked together; a woman had to see herself top to bottom. She also needed that dresser. Even married couples had two dressers in their shared bedroom. Though she should have chosen something that went better with his bleached-wood theme.
 

Whoops, where did that come from? His taste in furniture was irrelevant. They weren’t living together. They weren’t even roommates. She was not sharing a bedroom with this man.
 

Only she was. And that was the hell of it.

Chapter Fifteen

Will sat on the bed with his computer, working up 3D models for the house remodel job he was bidding on next week. It would be a sweet but small gig. The couple had just sent their last child off to college and wanted to reclaim the space. Update their lives, let in fresh air and sunlight. He planned to replace windows, put in skylights, and add a deck or two. He was considering suggesting an outdoor room, a serene spot to enjoy the subtle Southern California shifts between winter cool and summer breeze.
 

After he’d left Golden Organics, he’d numbly said yes to any short job that came along, no matter what it was. It wasn’t until he’d worked on a one-day gig helping a contractor friend out with a kitchen remodel that he’d realized, for the first time in months, he hadn’t thought about Golden or Darcy, betrayal or disappointment. For the first time in months, he was content.
 

This work made him happy. Creating spaces that opened up people’s lives.
 

As always, once he started working, he got caught up in his imagined spaces, enough that he could almost forget the mess Darcy was making in his own living room.
 

Until she marched into the bedroom, closely followed by two movers with a black lacquered dresser.
 

She looked around the room. “Here, I think.” Right next to his.
 

Will stood up. “That’s not—”

She shook her head at him. “I canceled the dining table, but I need this. I’m tired of digging through my suitcase for my underwear, and it’s not like you’re about to empty out a drawer for me like we’re dating.”
 

“What if I did? Would you send them away? What if I gave you a drawer?”

She seemed to actually consider this, glancing between his dresser and the black one.
 

The mover grunted. “I gotta put this down, or I’ll drop it on someone’s foot.”

Darcy pointed. “There.” She turned to Will. “I can’t cram an entire wardrobe into a sock drawer. Sorry. Nice offer and all.”
 

She was in an oddly cheery mood, which only made his desire to throttle her all that much stronger. But he had no right to deny her a dresser.
 

As the movers left the room, trailed closely by Darcy, Will’s phone rang. Darcy glanced over her shoulder as he picked it up.
 

He swung the door closed behind her.
 

“Is this Will Dougherty?”

“It is.”

“This is Shana Ogden from Calderon and Associates. We just looked over your proposal. You got it to us in the nick of time, I have to tell you. We’d finished interviewing, or so we thought, but we loved your presentation. Can you come in tomorrow?”