Desperately Seeking Landlord Read online

  “Do you have a step ladder or anything?”

  I snort. “Do I look like I own a step ladder?”

  He glances at me over his shoulder. “Uh ... no.” He steps up on the closed toilet lid. I don’t bother chiding him on the possibility of breaking it, if he does he’ll have to replace it anyway.

  He begins cutting a large chunk out of the ceiling and I lean against the doorway.

  “I didn’t know you were handy.”

  He pauses and looks at me. “There’s a lot you still have to learn about me, sweetheart.” Returning to sawing the ceiling he adds, “My grandpa wanted me to not only learn the family business, but be able to handle what he called manly chores.”

  I can detect the hint of sadness in his tone. “You miss him.”

  His shoulders sag. “More than you know.” He saws a large square and uses his hand to hold it in place, but that doesn’t stop it from wiggling slightly. “I have to get whatever this is out, before it moves again, so … watch out.”

  Before I have the chance to contemplate running into the living room and dive bombing onto the couch, he pulls the tile down, and dust explodes everywhere.

  Coughing, from the onslaught of insulation falling out I jolt when something smacks into my chest.

  I scream, ready to lodge the thing off of me when I hear the tiniest, most pitiful meow.

  “It’s a kitty!” I exclaim in surprise. It comes out sounding more like kittaaay. I see big blue eyes and dusty oatmeal fur before I hug the kitten to my neck.

  Jamie steps off the toilet lid, sets down the tile he cut out, and rubs drywall dust and insulation from his hair. “A cat?”

  “A kitten.” I hold out the fluffy furball proudly so he can see. “My ceiling gave birth.”

  He frowns at the kitten. “It’s dirty.”

  “She’s perfect,” I croon, cuddling the squirming kitten to my chest. I don’t even know if it’s a girl, but it feels like she is.

  “You’re not keeping the cat, Miranda,” he growls in warning. “Animals are not allowed.”

  I jut my bottom lip out. “I should get special privileges. I am fucking the landlord.” I wink at him while petting the kitten on the top of her fluffy head. To the cat I say, “How’d you even get up in my ceiling?”

  Jamie sighs, scrubbing his hands down his jaw. “Its mom probably got on the roof somehow and this one got separated.”

  I hold the fluffy puff out at arm’s length. “You can be the Beta to my Alpha. The Fettuccine to my Alfredo. Ooh, that should be your name, Fettuccine.”

  Jamie groans. “You’re not keeping it.”

  “No, of course not,” I assure him. “I’ll take her to the animal shelter tomorrow.”

  “Mhmm.”

  He doesn’t believe me. He’s right to be wary. No way am I willingly giving up this cat. It feels like some sort of sign. If a kitten falls from your ceiling, clearly it’s chosen you, right? The wand chooses the wizard, after all, so can’t the cat choose the cat lady?

  “I promise,” I tell him, crossing the fingers of my left hand behind my back. “Fettuccine will be out of here before you know it.”

  Sure, I won’t be able to keep this a secret forever, but hopefully I can come up with a way to persuade him later.

  His eyes narrow and I hope to God my nose isn’t twitching, because I’m in deep shit if it is.

  “You shouldn’t name it. Names lead to attachment.”

  “You shouldn’t call me sweetheart. Nicknames show a kind of fondness,” I mock playfully.

  He leans his head back, looking up at the ceiling as if he’s begging it for answers.

  “Between you, Toby, and my mom, I’m headed to an early grave.” I grin widely at him as he lowers his head and looks at me. “What?” he asks with confusion.

  “You called him Toby.”

  “Dammit,” he curses, bending to move the tile out of the way. “Don’t tell him I slipped up.”

  Petting the cat, I lean my hip against the counter. “Ooh, blackmail. I won’t tell if you let me keep the cat.”

  He glares and points at me. “Not happening. Maybe I should take the cat with me.”

  “No!” I shriek, holding her tighter against me.

  His eyes narrow. “Miranda—”

  “I don’t trust you! You might hurt the cat.” I cuddle her impossibly closer. I’m not letting him leave with her. She is mine and I am hers.

  He sighs, shoulders falling. “I wouldn’t hurt the kitten, Miranda. I’m not a monster.”

  “Do you not like cats?”

  “They’re messy,” he grumbles, wrinkling his nose. “And they smell.”

  “So do kids but you have one of those.”

  He contemplates for a moment but smartly keeps his mouth shut, because he knows I have a point. He picks up his tools and looks around at the mess. “It’s late, get some sleep and I’ll send someone to patch the ceiling and clean up tomorrow.”

  I fake swoon, hand to the back of my head and all. Fettuccine meows in my opposite hand, probably not liking the way I’ve bent back. “My own personal knight in shining armor.”

  He shakes his head at a loss for words and heads out of the bathroom, brushing past me. His elbow grazes my boob and from his little smirk when he looks over his shoulder I know it was on purpose.

  I follow him to the door. He opens it, turning around to stand in the threshold.

  Lowering his head, he grazes his lips over mine. “Try to sleep.”

  “Thank you for coming over,” I say as he pulls away, biting my lip slightly. “It…” I pause, sighing, because I hate being vulnerable. “It meant a lot. I was really freaked out.”

  “Any time, sweetheart.” He points at Fettuccine. “You’re not keeping the cat.”

  Oh, but I am.

  “Absolutely not,” I respond, nodding in agreement. I can tell he still doesn’t believe me, but I can’t say I blame him. “Text me when you’re home.”

  He nods. “I will.”

  He kisses me one last time and then he’s walking away. I lock the door and clean up Fettuccine as best I can. She really is adorable.

  “You look like one of the Aristocats,” I tell her, holding her in front of my face as I carry her to my room. “A little Marie.”

  She meows in response like a good little kitty.

  “Ooh, you’re a Pastacat,” I tell her and she yawns. “I’m so clever.”

  I climb into bed and the tiny furball makes herself comfortable in my pillow. I don’t mind a bit.

  Ten minutes later I get a text from Jamie saying he’s home.

  I’ve barely sent him a goodnight response with a kiss emoji before I’m fast asleep.

  18

  Jamie

  Don’s name flashes on my phone screen and I curse from my office in Tysons, Virginia. I rarely work from the big office housing Miller Enterprises, but today is chockfull of meetings with executives, so it’s where I need to be. I’m grateful most of the time I can work from home and be close if Tobias needs me.

  “Hello?” I reluctantly answer the phone, knowing there can’t be a good reason why he’s calling. I straighten a pen on my desk, trying to distract myself from what I’m sure is going to be a painful conversation.

  “Jamie, do you have a minute?”

  I look at my agenda. “My next meeting is in twenty minutes.”

  “Plenty of time.” He clears his throat. “Shannon is requesting another meeting.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and lean forward, resting my elbows on my desk. “Why? We clearly didn’t get anywhere the first time.”

  “She’s threatening to return to court to fight for equal share custody.”

  The air leaves my lungs and I pick up the pen I previously straightened, stabbing it into a stack of papers. “Bull-fucking-shit. She doesn’t want Tobias. She didn’t want him then and she doesn’t want him now. Any idea what she actually wants?” My tone is deadly, but Don takes it in stride. After all, he’s paid to de
al with this shit.

  “I think we both know what she actually wants.”

  “Money,” I hiss, throwing the pen across the room.

  I was already not in the best mood having to be in the city dealing with all the dickish board members who think they know more than me just because they’re twenty years older. Now, I’m fucking livid.

  I’m not a monster.

  I wouldn’t keep Tobias from Shannon if I truly believed she regretted her decision and wanted to be a mother to him. But I learned her true colors after she got pregnant. All she wants is a bank account padded with money so she can further Botox her already plastic face to match her plastic existence.

  “I’m not giving her a penny,” I warn in a grave tone. I point my finger roughly in the air like Don’s there to witness it. “She’s already taken more fucking money from me than necessary. She signed her rights away and that’s that.”

  “I know, I know. This shouldn’t be an issue.”

  There’s a but implied. I know it.

  “But,” he continues, “she’s a woman.”

  “What the fuck does that have to do with it?” I blurt, but I know. I already fucking know.

  He sighs heavily, as irritated by this as I am. “Judges always sympathize with the mother.”

  Even when they shouldn’t, he leaves unsaid.

  It doesn’t matter that she wanted an abortion, or that she only wanted him once she realized the amount she’d get in custody, or even that she hasn’t bothered to see him, not even now. It doesn’t matter that I’m the one who wanted him. Who stayed up late when he cried, fed him, changed his diapers. It doesn’t matter that even now I’m the one who clothes him, who makes sure he brushes his teeth and does his homework. I’m the one who’s been there for every birthday and bruised knee.

  Because at the end of the day, I’m the man.

  The dad.

  And we’re not together, so obviously I’m the deadbeat parent in this situation.

  It pisses me the fuck off and I throw a stack of papers at the wall.

  “Mr. Miller?” My assistant, a woman in her fifties named Claire, pokes her head in. “Is everything okay?”

  I point to my phone and she nods, heading back around the corner to her desk.

  “What should I do?”

  He’s quiet and I hear something ticking in the background. Maybe a clock, or perhaps his pen tapping against his desk.

  “My suggestion? Meet with her. Play nice, but…”

  “But?” I growl. I really fucking hate that word.

  “I think in the end you’re going to have to give her more money or she won’t disappear.”

  I stand up, staring out the window of the building at the traffic surging below. This area outside of Washington D.C. is always bustling. I don’t like it. It might be surprising to some, but I prefer my quiet suburban life.

  “If I really thought she wanted to see Tobias this wouldn’t be an issue.”

  “If she wanted to see your son she wouldn’t be going through lawyers.”

  I know he’s right. Shannon is money hungry, and Tobias is nothing but a pawn for her to get what she wants. She doesn’t love him, know him, or even care about him the tiniest bit.

  I don’t understand it.

  I was a fucking dad the minute I figured out she was pregnant, but she’s never realized she’s a mom.

  She’s cold-hearted and I’ll do everything in my power to keep Tobias away from her for that reason alone. I won’t let her break his heart like she broke mine. It made me an angry bastard and I don’t want my son to grow up with a chip on his shoulder. He deserves more than that.

  “What are you thinking, Jamie?” Don probes.

  I exhale a weighty breath and lean an arm above my head against the glass. Sirens blare.

  “Set a meeting.”

  19

  Miranda

  “Who’s the cutest kitty in all the land? You are, Fettuccine, that’s right it’s you.”

  I tap him on his pink nose.

  That’s right, Fettuccine is a boy. I took him to the vet this morning and was informed that my sweet girl kitty has male genitalia. What a disappointment. It was going to be her and me against the world.

  I think I still can be a good boy cat mom.

  “You’re absolutely insane,” Lou says, walking beside me as I push the shopping cart through Petco.

  “I think this whole thing is adorable,” Tanner interjects, rubbing Fettuccine on top of his head. The kitten leans into Tanner’s touch and purrs.

  “You’re not supposed to have pets,” Lou reminds me for the thousandth time.

  She’s just a salty pretzel because she wanted to adopt a puppy and was denied by Jamie.

  My pussy is his kryptonite, though, so I know I can persuade him.

  He’ll come to love the little fluff-ball. Who wouldn’t? A fluffy cream-colored cat named Fettuccine is what dreams are made of—totally Lizzie McGuire in Rome vibes.

  “I can be very convincing.” I give her a smirk and sway my hips.

  She pretends to gag. “Ick, gross. I don’t want to picture you and my landlord doing the dirty.”

  “He’s my landlord now too,” I remind her, turning down an aisle of cat food and searching for the one the vet recommended. “But unlike you, I enjoy when he comes to collect rent.”

  Tanner chuckles and Lou looks horrified. “You know I’m the kind of person who blurts whatever is on my mind and I’m no prude, but ugh, why do you have to be bumping uglies with Jamie?”

  Tanner leans around me to look at her as I stop, standing on my tiptoes to grab the bag of food from the top shelf. “If you’d seen his dick you’d understand.”

  “Should’ve looked at the photo while the offer was on the table,” I sing-song, dropping the bag into the cart.

  Fettuccine meows from the front child’s seat and I scratch behind his ears. So needy, but I love it. I always wanted a cat growing up, but my parents were afraid I wasn’t responsible enough. As Lou would say, fate sent one my way.

  “Bleh.” She holds her hands out in front of her. “I do not want to think about Jamie’s dick ever, let alone actually see it. No thank you.”

  “It’s a work of art,” I continue, just to annoy her.

  Tanner helps. “The Mona Lisa of dicks.”

  “Songs have been written about less worthy penises.”

  Lou shoves her fingers in her ears. “La, la,la I’m not listening to you.”

  “You’re no fun.” I pout. I’m used to being able to say anything I want to Lou, but Jamie repulses her.

  I turn down another aisle and scan the cat toys. Bending down, I pick up a tiny blue mouse. “I really do like Jamie,” I mumble.

  Even though I can’t see her I know she freezes in place behind me. Tanner is probably sporting a silly grin.

  “Like … how much do you like him?”

  I bite my lip and stand up, tossing the toy mouse into the cart. “More than I should.”

  “Miranda,” she sighs, her eyes sad. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  I’ve been hurt a lot, just like she’s been in the past until Abel came along. I understand why she’s protective. I’m the same way with her. I’ll fuck up anyone who messes with her, literally. Pretty sure one of Abel’s former asshole teammates is still afraid of me. I saw him a couple months ago in Walgreens and he dropped a box of condoms before running out of there like the hounds of Hades were on his heels.

  I can make grown men cower. It’s kind of my super power.

  But I don’t want Jamie to cower. I want him to embrace me, let me melt in his strong arms, and that scares the poo out of me.

  “Getting hurt is inevitable.” I shrug, moving to her other side to look at a cat scratch post. There are some giant climbing ones that I know are far too large for my apartment.

  “It might be inevitable, but that doesn’t mean you stop in front of a moving car just to see if you get hit.”

  I flinch.<
br />
  I know Lou didn’t approve of me sleeping with Jamie when it was just sex, so I don’t know why I would expect her to jump for joy over a relationship with him. She knows him one way, the way he projects himself to the world to keep people from seeing what a sweet squishy marshmallow he is on the inside, but I’ve seen more. The deeper, hidden parts of himself he only shares with a select few. If she knew him that way, she’d understand. He’s pretty impossible not to like.

  He’s strong and capable. A hard worker. Compassionate. A loving father.

  He’s the whole package, more than I could’ve ever imagined for myself.

  My best friend’s approval feels necessary, but since I also don’t know where this whole thing is going I don’t want to push it.

  Placing a tan cat post in the cart I move further down the aisle. Tanner has Fettuccine scooped into his arms, swaying with the cat. He’s singing some made up song in a whispered voice to my cat.

  Fettuccine is going to be the most spoiled kitty ever. He hit the jackpot when he fell through my ceiling.

  As promised, Jamie sent someone to repair the damages. It’s good as new, with absolutely no sign of the birthing of Fettuccine.

  “I’m hungry,” Tanner announces suddenly, cutting off mid-song. “Can we go to Olive Garden after this? I want…” He pauses, looks at the cat with wide, horrified eyes, and finishes in a whisper, “fettuccine Alfredo.” His eyes dart back and forth from the kitten in his arms to me. “Is Fettuccine going to be offended if I eat that? He’s not going to think I’m like … eating his sibling or something, right?”

  Lou busts out laughing. “It’s a cat, Tanner. I think you’re fine.” She pats his shoulder.

  “We can’t do that unless we order it and eat it somewhere else,” I interject, spinning one of those feathered dangly toys through the air. I throw it up and catch it like one of those flag people in band.

  “Why?” Tanner asks.

  I narrow my eyes on him. “Pretty sure they wouldn’t take kindly to my kind of Fettuccine.” I point to the fluffy kitten.