Built for Love

“The shitty pizza place?

“I make pizza for them and sometimes I deliver.” If I’m lucky. You make way better money doing delivery. Being on a strict budget, I need all the help I can get in the finance department.

“You go on deliveries by yourself?” His face grows more serious again.

“Weren’t you just leaving?” I motion toward the door again. He ignores it and starts looking around my small apartment.

“You did this too.” He runs his hands along a table I found a few weeks ago on the sidewalk. I brought it home and showed it some love. I nod. “And the rest of this place.” I try not to fidget.

“I gave it a little love. What I can, at least.” This place is a shithole like he called it before. But it’s cheap and I knew I could try and touch my place up some. It wasn’t anything great, but I did what I could without spending too much money. I don’t want to waste money on a place that isn’t really mine, but I do have to live here, so a few small things felt fine to do. Not a total waste.

“We’re redoing this place. You’re not going to be able to stay here.”

“Chad didn’t do anything. Is that even legal? You can’t just kick us out.”

“We’ll put you up somewhere until it is complete.”

“Then the rent will go up to a crazy amount and I won’t be able to live here,” I mumble. Great. I walk over to my little loveseat, dropping down onto it.

“No one said the rent would go up.” He ventures over into my kitchen, where he starts inspecting everything.

“Are you the handyman or something?” Maybe that’s why he felt like he could let himself in. Also why he offered to take me somewhere new. Did I miss a letter about the upcoming construction?

“Nope, I’m buying the place.”

“Buying or bought?”

He comes back into the kitchen. “You really can’t stay here. There is mold under the kitchen sink.”

“Really?” I get up to go look. I don’t remember seeing any mold there. His arm snags me around the waist, stopping me.

“Don’t go near it. You don’t want to breathe it in.” I stare up into his handsome green eyes. His hand on my waist flexes, reminding me that he’s touching me. A heat swirls through my body, making me jump back. He sucks in a deep breath and I wonder if he felt it too.

“When will they be giving us all places to stay? I can stay until then. Can’t I just scrape it off like they do in TV shows or something?”

“We’ll get you set up tonight. Why don’t you go pack?”

“I don’t even know your name. This is crazy. I should call Chad.” Even as I say those words, I want to gag. Chad is a creep. He’s hit on me numerous times.

“Name’s Abel, beautiful. What’s yours?”

“Pepper,” I say, ignoring the flutter in my stomach at him calling me beautiful.

“Go pack,” he presses again. Not thinking I have much of a choice, I go pack, hoping my new landlord isn’t as creepy as my last.

3

Abel

She doesn’t trust me and I can’t blame her. As a single woman, she’s probably learned all men are sharks or worse. I don’t mind her being wary of the male species. Hell, she can keep her guard up around them at all times—except for me. For me, her guard should be on the floor along with her clothes.

But I’m realistic. I know that’s not happening within the next thirty minutes. After that, though, who knows? Fortune favors the bold.

“You need some help?” I holler through the closed bedroom door. I can’t hear any activity because the walls in here are solid even if the place is more run-down than a country rest stop. The bones of this old building are good. It has a solid brick exterior, thick and straight walls, and high ceilings. Renovated properly, we could sell this for a good amount of money. I was being stubborn not wanting to do business with Walker.

“If you’re bored, feel free to move on,” she yells back.

“Not in this lifetime,” I respond.

The door flies open and a skeptical Pepper appears with her laundry basket propped against her waist. She has emptied it of her clothes and put a bunch of knickknacks in there like books, candles, and a couple of pillows.

“I’m ready,” she tells me.

“That’s all you’re taking?” I look around her frame and see the bedroom mostly intact. She’s barely packed enough for a sleepover, let alone to move out. Did she mishear me? “You left most of your stuff here,” I point out.

“That’s right, because I live here and since I don’t even know if I want to stay at the place you’re putting all the tenants while this building is being renovated, I’m not about to go through the hassle of boxing everything up more than once. This is all I need for a few days.”