Page 7 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
I wait.
She stares back at me.
I raise an eyebrow. “And?”
“And what?”
“Did it warn you that your floorboards were one bad decision away from collapsing underfoot?”
She tilts her head, considering. “I believe the exact phrasing was ‘historical charm with original fixtures.’”
I snort. “That’s just a pretentious way of saying, ‘Surprise, you’re living in a death trap.’”
“Well, congratulations,” she deadpans. “You’re the first victim.”
Perfect. Just what I needed—an injury waiting to happen, a bill waiting to be paid, and a woman who stubbornly refuses to acknowledge my charm.
Still, I don’t move. And neither does she.
Her arms remain crossed, her mouth still set in that unimpressed line, but there’s something in the way she’s looking at me now. It’s as though she’s waiting to see what I’ll do next.
Like maybe—maybe—she’s curious.
So, I roll my shoulders, shake off the embarrassment, and shoot her my most devastating grin.
“Tell you what,” I say, grabbing the nearest box. “I’ll move the rest of your things, but only if you admit I’m at least a little charming.”
She steps aside and watches as I haul the first box toward the hallway.
“No deal.”
I huff out a laugh, more entertained than I should be.
“Guess we’ll see,” I mutter, already reaching for the next box.
And just like that, I realize that I’m having so much fun annoying the fuck out of her.
Chapter Three
Lucian: Hey, thief, is Sarah around your house?
Olivia: I told you to leave her with me. We could be having a lot of fun—and she wouldn’t be trying to escape.
Lucian: That doesn’t answer my question, is she with you?
Olivia: I wouldn’t know. I’m not at home.
Lucian: Let me go look for her.
Olivia: That’s a great idea. Look for your dog, and don’t bother me. But maybe you should just give her to me. I can keep an eye on her.
Lucian: Are you aware that your fence is . . . a bit broken? Is this part of the charm but old as fuck look in your home?
Olivia: What do you mean my fence is broken?
Lucian: Attaching the image of the half-fallen fence right about now . . .
Olivia: What happened to it? Was that your dog?
