Page 122 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

“So the apartment won’t be ready for at least another week?” I exhale a heavy sigh and press my palm against my forehead.

The leasing agent presses her lips together with a grim smile and nods. “I’m sorry. We uncovered a water leak after the previous tenant moved out that we were never informed of. There’s significant damage, which could cause mold. We have a crew coming out to start on the repairs on Monday. You should be able to get in by this time next weekend.”

I press my fingers into my eyes, fighting off the tears threatening to spill. It wasn’t only the fact my new apartment wouldn’t be ready for over a week, leaving me with no place to stay. It’s what this moment represented to me after all this time.

I’ve been counting down since graduation for the day I’d be on my own. Hell, I’ve dreamed of this moment long before I finished high school.

I’m extremely lucky to have grown up with a close family, and I consider myself to be a daddy’s girl. My older brother, Alec, and I have always been close, although we argued a lot more when we moved into our high school years.

Either way, I know if I called Alec and told him something happened and I needed my big brother, he’d nearly blow out his engine to get to me as fast as he could. That’s just who he is.

My dad and brother took their roles of protecting me seriously. It was enough to tell them I was moving out and on my own. I think my father gave in for the simple fact of knowing that Alec would be nearby at Keaton.

This was another one of those times—I could call and tell him I needed a place to crash for a week. Hallyn, my best friend and soon-to-be roommate, was still back in her hometown visiting her grandparents. She wasn’t here because our coach, SJ, agreed to send her videos of our routines to practice back in Virginia.

I didn’t want to resort to doing that, though. It’s what they’re expecting too.

The moment something big happens, when it feels like the ground beneath me is crumbling, they anticipate I’ll come running back home.

I wanted to prove them wrong, but more than anything, I wanted to prove that I could stand on my own two feet. I am strong and more than capable of taking care of myself.

“Can you update me on how things are progressing throughout the week? I’m hoping it doesn’t get pushed back…” I wanted to finish the sentence but saying it out loud struck me with fear that I’d be speaking it into existence.

“Of course, I’ll keep in touch with you on how it’s going, and toward the end of the week, I’ll call to confirm a time for you to stop in and get your keys.”

I nod and pat my hand on the counter, taking a step away. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I tip my chin as I step out the door. I wanted to wait until I was in the privacy of my car before I let the tears of frustration fall.

“Ava?” a gruff voice asks when I hit the sidewalk.

I never caught his name the other night, but I’d recognize that voice anywhere. I turn toward him slowly, nearly craning my neck to meet his gaze.

My eyes roam over his face, admiring the glint in his eye and his full beard. His mouth curves in a sinful smirk when he catches me staring like I had the other night. It isn’t until I hear the low rumble of his laughter that I snap out of it.

“Uhh… I’m sorry, what did you say again?”

He chuckles. “I never got your name, but I’m going to guess you’re Ava Watson.” He holds up his clipboard, and I spot my name printed along the top.

“Oh yes.” My heart seizes. “I am her. I mean, that is me.”

Good grief, Ava, get your shit together.

My gaze flits down to the Makin’ Moves logo on his chest, and it dawns on me why he’s asking.

“Oh, you must be here to help move my furniture.”

My parents arranged to have a moving company bring some of my things down from Beaufort. They were planning on being here until my mom fell a week ago. It was a freak accident, but she managed to tear her ACL and meniscus. My father, a surgeon himself, didn’t waste any time getting her to have it repaired.

They originally planned to be here when I moved in, as my father said, “In case anything comes up and I need his help.” I convinced him to stay home with my mom and that she needed him more than I did now.

I glance at the moving truck behind him and force a swallow.

“Dammit,” I mutter low, and I realize I cut him off.

He stops and studies me, realizing I was distracted again. “Everything okay?”

I motion behind me toward the leasing office. “I found out there’s water damage in my new apartment, so I won’t be able to move in for at least another week.” I massage my fingers into my temple. “I have no idea what to do with my stuff, though. I’m gonna need some time to call around and find a storage unit.”

He rubs his hands together and shrugs. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

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