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

Ron nodded. "My wife wanted me to look there, but when I heard there was a homeowners association, I knew it wasn't for me. I like to let my lawn go wild and free during the winter months. Oh look, it's actually my turn." Ron turned around and unloaded his cart onto the belt and proceeded to check out.

"Why did you tell him I lived in that neighborhood?" Bane whispered over my shoulder. His warm breath fanned across my cheek. He smelled like fresh mint gum and the barest hint of cologne.

"You didn't seem to want to tell him you lived at The Market Street Apartment Complex. Did you?"

"No! Definitely not," he snapped. "But why did you name Willow Loop? Ron's retired, and he has all the time in the world to talk. He talks with the other people in the community. What if they find out it's a lie?"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Why didn't you tell him the truth when you had the chance?"

"And tell him his favorite real estate agent is homeless? That's just bad business." He straightened and waved goodbye to Ron over my head.

Stepping forward, I heaved the heavy basket onto the conveyor belt. The checker gave me a concerned look, which I did my best to ignore while I paid for my forty-nine-million grapefruit. Bane finished checking out while I was still bagging my food. All of his items fit in one bag. Mine took three. He slipped a hand beneath one of the paper bags I was awkwardly juggling.

"Oh, thank you!" I said with a smile.

He glared. "We need to talk."

I rolled my eyes and headed out of the store. Bane followed right behind me as I led the way to my car.

After setting the bag in the trunk, he turned on me again. "You even told him what street I live on!"

"Well, why don't you live there?"

He coughed. "Why don't I live there, she says..."

I slammed the trunk, then faced him with my hands on my hips. "It's a friend of mine’s house. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before for you."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"My friend is gone a lot. They’ve told me to use the house before. If you need somewhere to stay, you should think about it. It’d be the perfect solution for you."

Bane shook his head. "I can’t stay at a stranger’s home. Besides, you still need a place."

"But it’s not a stranger’s home. I know them! I could even show you the spare key if you change your mind. It's sitting there, empty and unused. You really seem to care about the impression you give people, so instead of telling him what a snob you are, I figured I'd help protect your image."

"Why would you try to help me?"

"Because despite being stuck up, I’ve seen how kind you are to Melanie. And the way Ron just talked about you made you seem like a good guy. You’re in a tough spot—even I can see that. Your clients want any available house, but you need a place too. What harm could come from saying you live at an empty house? I mean, really, you might as well make yourself at home. Someone should have the decency to put it to use. Why not you?"

He sputtered, "I can't stay at a house that I don't own."

"Really? Even though Mercier kicked you out of your house?"

"Well..."

"To build luxury apartments?"

He scowled at that.

"And kept your deposit? A thousand-dollar deposit?"

His face turned thunderous. "I'm looking into that—for all of us. It's the principle of the matter. That amount of money should be nominal to a man like that. But to some of the people who lived at The Market Street Apartments, that was an enormous chunk of money. I'm waiting to hear back from the email I sent him. I'll let everyone know what I find out."

"Good luck getting through to him. Fort Knox is easier to access."

Bane shifted his grocery bag to his other arm. "You seem to know a lot about Mercier. Have you ever met him?"

I shrugged. "It's such a small community here that his reputation precedes him."

He nodded slowly. "I’ve had some difficulties trying to contact him about different properties he owns in town."

I didn’t say anything, I just watched him think. He glanced at his SUV, then at the sky, then back to me.

He said, "It is unfortunate that there's an empty house when there's such a deficit."

"My point exactly." I smiled.

He didn't smile back. "What’s the name of your friend? I’d like to call and talk to them about renting it short term, at least."

I bit my lip and searched my mind frantically for an excuse. "I’ll email them. You can’t call them because they’re on a medical mission trip. Very remote. They won’t be back for months."

He nodded slowly, looking as though he didn’t quite believe me. "If you can’t get their permission, or a lease, you could get busted for squatting."

"I may end up staying there, I’m not sure yet. It makes things awkward with that neighborhood having an HOA."

"They do tend to be nosy..."

"We could always pretend to be relatives."

"Well, just make sure you don't get caught breaking and entering. You're too pretty for jail."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him, "You're too pretty for jail." But I refrained because I wasn’t twelve. Instead, I asked, "Was that a compliment?"

He scoffed. "A statement. Besides, what's keeping you in Riverly? Why not move somewhere else?"

"My work is important to me."

"Why aren’t you at the house now?"

I shrugged. I knew it would sound silly if I said it out loud. He would think I was too full of pride. Too impractical. Especially since I hadn’t told him everything about the house. But I said it anyway. "I wanted to stand on my own two feet. I wanted to know I could make my way in life without help. Too bad I’m not doing so great at that."

Bane