Mr. H.O.A. by Carina Taylor (readera ebook reader .TXT) 📗

climbed into the driver's seat of his small pickup.

I started to pull away from Nola, but she stopped me with a hand on my waist. "Carol's still watching."

I didn't bother pointing out her lie. No one stood in Carol’s window, and Nola hadn't bothered to look over her shoulder to check.

I studied the face in front of me. Her fake smile had been replaced with a soft look as she gazed back into my eyes.

"Okay," I said with a smile. I wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer, our hips brushing against each other.

"How was the little wife's day at work?"

Nola arched a smooth brow. "Little wife? Hmm, I think you're going to have to pick something different."

"How about Mrs. HOA?"

She scrunched her face up as she thought about it. "No, I don't think so. I think I prefer 'Your Highness.'"

She screeched when I ran my fingers up the side of her ribs. She leapt back, smacking at my reaching hand, laughing loudly. "Stop that!"

I made one more half-hearted grab for her. She glared at me. "If you tickle me, I won't share my pizza!"

I held both hands in the air in surrender. "When you say pizza, you mean..."

She narrowed her eyes at me as she opened the minivan door. "I mean pepperoni and cheese."

I shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

She passed the pizza to me, shut the car door, then smacked my butt as she jogged by.

I really wished our relationship was real. Maybe it could be.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Homeowners Association Rule #37:

Cleaning companies must be from the approved HOA list.

The next morning was Saturday. No work. So I lay in bed, appreciating all the finer things in life like a soft bed, cozy blankets, and a roommate who was vacuuming right outside my door.

I grabbed the spare pillow and smashed it onto my other ear.

Maybe he'd leave with his vacuuming.

Vroom.

Crunch.

Wheeeeee.

Vroom.

Bump.

It was useless. Sleeping in was a lost cause.

With a sigh, I sat up, stretched, then headed out of my room to go shower. When I stepped into the hall, I tripped over a vacuum cord and slammed into the wall.

I grunted as I caught my balance. Bane shut off the vacuum and turned around.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

He didn't look sorry—he looked like he was fighting a smile.

I stomped past him and headed into the bathroom. I shut the door with more force than necessary. Bane's chuckle bounced off the hall walls.

The little...

I turned on the sink faucet, grabbed my face soap off the shelf beside the toilet, and began lathering up. Leaning over the sink, I closed my eyes and carefully swirled circles around my eyes.

Something hit me in the forehead.

Screaming as I stood up, whatever was hitting me in the face was now hitting my chest.

Water. Water spraying everywhere, and I couldn't see a darn thing thanks to my exfoliating scrub.

The bathroom door slammed open, and I blindly grabbed for Bane. "Help me!" I shrieked as the water now hit my back.

"Hold on!" He unhooked my hands from where they grasped his arm—I knew it was his arm because I could feel those biceps pretty clearly.

I reached out, feeling for the wall, trying to find my way to the towel shelf—scared to open my eyes and let the soap in.

"Okay, I got it shut off." He groaned. "Hang on, let me help you."

A moment later a large hand grasped my chin as he gently cleaned the soap off my face with a towel or rag, I wasn't sure which.

I didn't open my eyes as he continued cleaning the soap away from the rest of my face. His fingers, covered with the rag, swept away the remnants of soap.

"There. All better," he said quietly.

I opened my eyes and stared into his hazel eyes. He wasn't smiling, though his lips were slightly parted. His eyes searched my face until he reached up to swipe away something from my right eyebrow.

"I—" I whispered. I'd been this close to him last night in the driveway. But it felt different this morning. More real. I couldn't claim that we were playing it up for Carol. Anything that happened in this bathroom would be real. It would be between only him and me.

He swayed forward but caught himself on the wall behind me. He cleared his throat. "I think it's all off your face now."

"Thank you," I replied hoarsely.

"Anytime." He straightened and nodded as if he had simply held a door open for me rather than massaged exfoliating cleanser off my face while we stood in a soaking wet bathroom.

"I don't know what happened. I turned the water on, and everything was fine, but then when I was soaping my face, the water started spraying me."

I turned around to look at the sink. "Oh."

"Yeah." We stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at the broken sink. The faucet head had fallen off completely. I hadn't even known that was possible.

Bane lifted a socked foot off the ground, water dripping from it. His wet hair hung over his forehead. Apparently he hadn't escaped the spray when he shut the water off.

"Okay, well, it's not a big deal. Don't worry about it," Bane told me as he dried off his face with a towel from the cupboard. He knelt down on the ground and began mopping up the excess water. "We'll get everything dried up, and then I can call a guy to come replace this faucet."

"Isn't he going to ask questions?"

Bane stopped mopping up the water and stared at me. "That would be unfortunate. I work with that plumber all the time. It'd be hard to explain why I'm here or why I'll be moving in such a short time."

"Yes, a quick turnaround might be a little suspicious."

He stood up. "Oh, no."

"Why 'oh no?'" I asked as I grabbed a second towel off of the shelf and tried to dry the front of my shirt where it was plastered to me.

"We're going to have to figure out how to do it ourselves."

"So?"

"So,