Page 17 of Lucky Strike

“Okay,” Luna replied. She didn’t trust herself to say anything else. Mia wanting her around, inviting her to take an active part in her and future demon baby’s life, that had to mean something. She hoped it wasn’t due to encouragement from Ross. She wanted Mia to mean her words, to be able to trust the sentiment was real. Because if Mia liked her, it meant she had to be doing something right. It was both daunting and terrifying, and shereallyhoped she didn’t screw this up.

Mia smiled, her dimple making an appearance. She then bit her lip to prevent giggling.

“You’re thinking about sneaking furniture again, aren’t you?”

“I am. Next time we have to try to sneak something past Ross for fun.”

Yeah, Luna enjoyed this side of her. “What are you doing next weekend?”

“I’m not sure,” Mia replied.

“Maybe you can help me look for a living room sofa and we can also see if we can find things for the nursery.”

“And get waffle wraps for lunch?”

“Sure.”

“Yeah, sounds like fun.”

Her cousin-in-law grinned.

Maybe things were starting to turn around for Luna.

Chapter Nine

Sam parked hismotorcycle, having finished the fence repairs for his mother, and was ready for a shower. He removed his helmet, swapping it for the baseball hat. Walking past Luna’s white SUV, he noticed her struggling with what appeared to be a rolled area rug.

“Need any help?” he asked because it was his natural instinct to jump in to help, even for a woman who mysteriously seemed to hate him now.

Her shoulders stiffened but her eyes remained locked on her task, avoiding him. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had forgotten his face altogether.

“Nope.”

He was confused as to what had changed between them. How quickly she shifted from a woman he’d like to know better to a pain-in-his-ass tenant. Sam’s lesson? Never get distracted again while in conversation with her. He’d have to stay on constant guard whenever she was about.

While previous conversations, before she moved in, hadn’t exactly been amiable, it still felt as if there had been something between them. Dare he believe it was almost flirty. But he’d obviously been mistaken or else something had shifted, and he didn’t understand why. He wondered if it was because she no longer found him useful, getting the apartment on her terms, and now she was free to treat him with contempt. Any hope he had for a second chance with her had shriveled and died.

Sam wasn’t happy about the situation inside apartment seven, but he wasn’t going to make any more fuss about it than necessary. No way was his dad going to learn about the renovations. His current plan was to fix everything whenever she moved away. He’d paint the walls, return the Venetian blinds to the windows, and his dad, in San Diego, would never be the wiser as his visits were sporadic at best.

He leaned against the staircase railing, crossing his arms, because watching a stubborn woman struggle with a rug, after refusing help, was about all the entertainment he had these days. Why was she attempting to do this by herself? Was she planning to drag the rug across the dirty patio and up the staircase? The rug was too long, going across the whole length of the interior of her SUV. Even Sam wouldn’t try carrying it alone.

She released a growl in frustration, roughly grabbing her hair and yanking the strands into a tight ponytail. When she noticed him leaning against the railing, one hand locked onto a hip.

“Seriously? You’re just going to stand there and watch me? You don’t have anything else to do?” She was in clear spitfire mode.

“Not really.”

She retrieved her phone from her pocket, pushed a few buttons, and held it to her ear. “Come on, Ross. Pick up,” she said while pacing.

One of the apartment doors opened. He glanced over his shoulder.

“Excuse me, do you think—” but Luna stopped herself. It was Nicholas with his dog.

“What was that?” the old man shouted, also being hard of hearing.

“Never mind.” Her shoulders sagged.

“What?” Nicholas asked again.

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