Page 29 of The Kiss Connection
Nothing new, from what I can remember, but I forgot about one of her interests. “You read?” I don’t want to seem too suspicious, although her drunken state might cover for me.
“Yeah, and not like picture books or anything.” She untucks her hands from under the blankets. “I like big, thick, spicy novels.”
That gets a chuckle out of me. “You read romance?”
“Don’t judge me, Mr. Hockey Heartthrob.”
I ignore the jab. It’s Juniper, which means she’s throwing it out as an insult, not flirting with me.
“How spicy are we talking?” I glance up from her phone, curious if she’s reading girl porn. I’m tempted to look at her apps and see if she has an eReader on her phone and what books she’s read. Although, I doubt I’d recognize any of the titles.
“You can’t handle the spice. You’d be rock hard while reading it. Especially if I read it to you. I saw your dating profile, before you blocked me. You like a girl who reads books to you. That’s cute, like you’re in the first grade.”
There’s my girl, provoking me again. Glad to know she’s her usual self, even while intoxicated.
“For the record, I can read, I actually like reading. But it’s nice to have a girl curled up in my arms and listen to her tell me a story. Especially when it’s a spicy book.”
“You just like it when a girl talks dirty to you.”
She’s one hundred percent right. But I could never imagine Juniper talking dirty. No, instead, she likes to fire insults at me like we’re in the middle of a warzone. “Get some sleep.”
Juniper groans. “My head is spinning.”
“You’re lucky your stomach isn’t.”
“Can you not talk so loud?” She shuts her eyes, draping a hand over her face.
She’s going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning. I fiddle around in her bathroom, finding a couple of ibuprofen and leave them on the bedside table along with a bottle of water from the kitchen.
There’s a soft rap at the door. Who the hell is showing up at this hour? I hurry out of her bedroom before the sound wakes her, although I’m not sure she’s fallen asleep yet.
Yanking open the door, I’m staring at the loser with his bent nose and dried blood on his button down polo.
“You’re still here?” he asks, glancing past me. “Juniper, can I get cab money?”
“You’re not serious?” I stare at him. “Walk home.” I slam the door in his face and wince, hoping I didn’t startle Juniper. I lock the front door, determined not to leave. I can’t go back to my place, not if that creep is still lingering around the halls.
I could call building security if I had my phone on me. Which I don’t. It’s still in my apartment. The option to use Juniper’s phone is there, and if he shows up again, I’ll do that, after giving him a thorough ass-kicking. Sighing, I shut off the lights and head back toward the bedroom.
Finding the trash can in Juniper’s bathroom, it’s lined with a bag, and I leave it near the bed, in case she wakes up and needs it during the night. Hopefully she’ll be able to sleep off her liquor.
The bed is roomy for two, but I’m not curling up next to her. I’m not even comfortable sitting on the bed and watching her sleep.
There is a desk in her bedroom and in the corner of the room a plush chair with a high back. I climb into the chair, trying to make myself comfortable. At the very least, if Juniper has a problem or that asshole comes back, I’ll be here to deal with it.
She mumbles a few times, rolls around until I hear her softly snoring.
She’s asleep. I allow myself to finally relax and while my chest is sore with the bruises from the game in Toronto, I stay in the chair all night, eventually falling asleep.
“You’re still here?” Her sleepy voice stirs me from slumber.
I grumble and move to sit properly. My neck is sore, my back isn’t great either, but I hide my discomfort as much as possible. “Yeah, your handsy date showed back up last night. Didn’t feel right leaving you alone in your state.”
“Drunk?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.” I stand and stretch. “I should head back to my place.”
“So, it wasn’t a dream,” she muses, sitting up and wincing. “You’re my neighbor.”
