“I have enough self-respect not to let you talk down to me like that.” I turned on my heels, and wished my hair was long enough to whip it in his face as I pushed past him, out of the narrow room.
Fucking unbelievable. Excuse a girl for trying to learn a new household skill in her twenties.
Huffing and grumbling, I marched into the shared kitchen and yanked the cabinet doors open. My dinner plans consisted of pesto pasta and my nightly ration of Reese’s Minis– until my eyes zeroed in on Noah’s name on his shelf. And how it was freshly Sharpied on to every single one of the items on his shelf.
Sandwich, towel and laundry police.
Ugh.
I grabbed bread and jelly from my own shelf, but he had this huge jar of peanut butter from some obscure brand I’d never heard of. I narrowed my eyes at the label. Organic and zero sugar? And he was callingmea princess. Bet he ordered that online or something.
I lathered a thick layer of his fancy-schmancy peanut butter on to my bread, then heaped an extra spoonful of jelly on to the sandwich to make up for his lack of taste.
I screwed the lid back on and eyed his neatly organized shelf. With this big a jar, I wasn’t sure he’d even notice a portion missing. And I wanted him to notice. Maybe it was childish, but I considered it payback for being a dick to me all day. And what was the point if he didn’t know revenge had been taken?
I put the jar on my sparsely stocked shelf instead. Right next to my cheap off-brand sugary peanut butter. Perfect.
“Dorito girl.”
I bit my lip to suppress the gleeful grin as I turned and closed the cupboard.
The parking-lot cowboy, aka Lucky Luke, aka Sheriff Kit Holliday, leaned in the doorway, clad in plain jeans and a Marvel T-shirt. “Fancy seeing you here, Lucky.”
“I live here. Top floor. Last door.”
“Don’t recall asking for directions, but thanks.”
“You might feel like you need them at some point in the future.” He grinned and pushed himself off the door in a strangely rehearsed fluent move that involved entirely too much hair flipping.
It reminded me why I preferred drummers over frontmen.
“Sure, let me know when you’re throwing a party and I’ll stop by.”
“Will do.” He winked at me, but it lacked that confidence I’d seen from Noah in the Kit vs. Ace videos– and I immediately hated myself for taking note of that. Noah had the confidence, but more than that, he had thenerve.
“When you do, make it worth my while, okay? No half-assed parties on my watch.” I grabbed my plate and beelined for the door. I didn’t even hear Lucky’s response to that.
The first couple of stairs toward my room were fine. But my hip buckled by the halfway point. By the time I made it all the way up the stairs, I was leaning against the wall, needles piercing through my right side. The rest of my night had just become a strictly horizontal endeavor.
I dumped the plate on my nightstand and crawled into bed, jeans still on. The coffee stain on my right thigh mocked me like a schoolyard bully, pointing right at me and laughing.
If Noah made even one dumb comment tomorrow about my laundry staying in the washer overnight, I’d hide his stupid fancy peanut butter somewhere he wouldn’t find it.
Chapter Seven
THE PRETTY ANNIE LOU
THE MAYOR’S DAUGHTER
Annie Lou is a gentle beauty beloved for her kindness. With a warm smile and a heart for helping, her caring nature has made her a true town treasure. Annie brings a touch of sweetness to the Old West.
Always remember: In the face of adversity, kindness can be the bravest act of all.
NOAH
There was a chance Esra was conducting a social experiment to see how many inconveniences it would take to make me snap. Hadn’t she been in med school? Maybe she hadn’t dropped out. Maybe she was part of some sort of psychological-torture study. I was merely a guinea pig trapped in her maze.
At least that would explain why I’d found my peanut butter among her things, right next to her own, when I’d gone to make dinner– and her laundry in a wet heap on top of the dryer when I’d gone to pick up my own dried clothes. I’d told her to be back in time or someone would unload the washer for her.
