Page 18 of Lucky Strike

“Never mind!” she yelled, and the older gent shuffled away, his hacked cough following them.

Luna hopped her butt onto the lowered tailgate of the SUV, crossing her legs and leaning a bent elbow against the rug as though trying to appear casual and not at all frustrated.

“Do you want—” Sam started to say.

“No,” she replied.

“Are you always this stubborn? Isn’t this all a little dramatic?” he asked while scratching his eyebrow.

She glared in response. “I don’t like doing anything that isn’t a little dramatic.”

“Okay then.” At least she was honest.

He removed his hat to run a hand across his hair before putting it on again. At this point, he was confused. Even if she did hate him, why refuse the help? He was offering to carry a rug, not take her out to dinner. He supposed she meant to keep him out of her apartment as much as she could, as though his presence could taint the whole place.

“Look, I’ve already seen the wall and the shades and the floor. And I’m going to be in your apartment at some time or another. What if there’s something I need to fix?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

His brow lowered. “Yeah, that’s not how any of this works. You’re not supposed to take care of it. That’s my job. What do you think I do around here?”

“That’s probably why it’s better if I just deal with it myself.”

Sam swallowed a bitter growl. It wasn’t his fault the apartment complex was falling apart. Considering what he had to work with, and his father’s refusal to invest much money into the place, he thought he did a pretty good job. “Then there’s apartment inspections, cleaning out the filters for the central air, that sort of thing.”

She didn’t respond, picking at the rug backing with a fingernail.

“Anyway, I’m just saying, me inside your place is only a matter of time.” Was that creepy? He wasn’t trying to be. Oh well. He didn’t need all this grief, especially because Luna and her area rug weren’t his job nor his problem.

Sam was done playing this game. “If you don’t want my help, fine.” He headed to his own place.

“Sam.”

He turned toward her, and her jaw was still locked in stubbornness.

“Okay,” was all she said.

“Okay what?” After everything, this wasn’t going to cut it. The queen would have to lower herself a bit more for his help.

She closed her eyes and released a breath. “Help me?”

“Wow, the adversity you must have had to overcome to ask that,” he deadpanned.

Her eyes rolled in reply, which didn’t seem to be the appropriate reaction for someone in her situation.

“On second thought, I don’t think I will.”

Her mouth popped open. “After all that, you’re not going to help me? You’re such an asshole.”

Sam took the steps necessary to come close enough to see the green flecks in her hazel eyes. This was done to keep them from shouting at each other across the yard, and, yes, he was also irritated. “I’m an asshole? I offer help out of the goodness of my heart, which you treat with disgust. And then, when you begrudgingly do want my help, I’m supposed to come running? No, thanks.”

Luna’s features scrunched into extreme displeasure and her fists tightened as though she was about to burst. She’d probably never experienced a guy not bent at the waist for her. In a quick move, her arm shot out and snatched his hat, whipping it behind her back. Even she appeared somewhat shocked at the action before her expression switched to defiance. “I don’t get my rug, you don’t get your hat.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re going to hold my hat ransom? Just five minutes ago, you hated the idea of me touching your rug!”

“Well, now I want you to touch my rug!” Her cheeks grew ruddy, her eyes bright.

“I wouldn’t touch your rug even if there was a million dollars rolled up inside. Knowing you, there’s probably a dead body in there,” he replied through gritted teeth.

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