She’s from a completely different world than mine. Everything about her screams luxury, from her designer clothes to the way she stands like she’s allergic to dirt. She showed up in a black sweatsuit, for god’s sake. A matching set, no less. She walked in here with an attitude in one hand and entitlement in the other.
I haven’t had a woman live with me since my fiancé left me years ago, for another man.
Fuck love. Fuck relationships. Fuck it all to hell.
I head into the kitchen to wash my hands, the water sputtering to life before running cool against my skin. I focus on the feeling, letting it center me—until my eyes flick up, catching sight of her through the doorway.
She’s sprawled across my damn couch. One leg tucked under her, the other draped lazily off the side, eyes glued to her phone like she’s waiting for someone to save her from this rural nightmare. Her fingers move across the screen with practiced disinterest, like everything around her is background noise.
I can’t stop myself from staring, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
Of course she has to be fucking stunning.
Her long brown hair tumbles in soft waves from a high ponytail. Hidden between the strands, I catch flashes of blonde, barely there, just enough to shimmer like gold when the sun hits it right. It’s subtle, the kind of detail you don’t notice unless you’re staring.
And God knows I’m staring.
Her face is too perfect. All high cheekbones and sharp angles, like she was carved by some arrogant celestial artist who knew exactly what the fuck they were doing. Her mouth, fuck me. Full, plump lips painted in some soft pink gloss, the kind that makes it impossible to think straight. Fuck it was maddening.
It was fucking impossible not to be captivated by her.
God, she’s beautiful.
So fucking beautiful.
I force my eyes down back to the sink, pretending like washing my hands is the most important task I’ve got going on right now. I scrub harder than I need to, like maybe if I focus hard enough, I’ll forget the way she makes my chest flutter.
That’s Vartan’s daughter, my best friend’s kid. A walking fucking line I shouldn’t even be looking at, let alone tempted to cross.
I snatch the towel off the counter and dry my hands.My boots creak against the old wooden floor as I make my way into the living room. I drop down onto the couch across from her, watching her, waiting for her to react. She doesn’t glance up, still fully absorbed in her phone.
Typical.
Her mouth moves now and then, but the longer she ignores me, the more my patience starts to fray. I reach over, swiping the damn thing right out of her hands.
“Hey! I was literally about to get to the spicy scene in my book, you asshole!” She glares at me, her nose scrunched.
“Since you’re gonna be living here,” I say, pocketing her phone, “we’re gonna have some rules. Workday starts at five in the morning and ends when everything’s done. Which could be four, could be later.”
She blinks, stunned silent for a beat. “Five?” Her voice pitches. “In the morning?”
She stares at me, her eyes vast and dramatic as hell. Large chestnut eyes with green threaded through the middle, which makes them utterly impossible to ignore. The sunlight hits her face just right, and for a moment, I forget what I’m even saying. But then she opens her mouth again.
“That has to be a fucking joke,” she laughs out, throwing her head back against the couch cushion. “I don’t even roll over before ten, noon if it’s cloudy.”
She sighs dramatically and starts talking with her hands. “And what about Wi-Fi? Do you guys have that out here, or do I need to send up a fucking smoke signal? What about AC? A skincare fridge? A plug for my Dyson? Because my hairwillriot.”
I stare at her. God help me, she’s dead fucking serious.
“There’s no beauty sleep here, princess,” I mutter,standing up and turning on my heel before I say something I’ll regret.
She lets out another dramatic sigh. “Jesus, what are you, you pushing eighty? Need to be up by sunrise to drink your morning coffee and scream at the cows? There’s nothing wrong with sleeping in like a normal person.”
I stop in my tracks, slightly turning my neck to glare at her. “I’m thirty-four.”
She scoffs. “Yeah, and I’m the fucking Tooth Fairy. I’ve barely met you, and you walk around like there’s a stick up your ass. Lighten up.”
My jaw ticks. “And you walk around like the world owes you something. Let me guess—eighteen and haven’t worked a day in your damn life?”
