strong, muscular back and shoulders, fit legs. Most of the artsy types that come through here aren’t this athletic looking.
Then he turns around…
Holy goddamn crap. Him again . Hottie surfer dude from the café . I fumble my clipboard and watch it go spinning wildly out of my hands, sending papers across my entire back walkway.
Smooth move McKenzie . My father would already give me an “F” at this point.
“Wow, y ou really keep yourself busy.” He grins, holding a duffle bag in one arm and a ukulele in the other.
“And you really make yourself at home,” I say, looking down at his belongings. He’s probably one of those guys that prides themselves on their overly simple lifestyle; the kind of guy that goes above and beyond to prove himself as a professor of relaxation.
“Whenever possible, I always choose comfort.” He drops a wide smile. I feel like a blob of jelly.
“Whatever, no problem . My dad said that as long as you agree to the terms, can pay the rent, and appear to be a reasonably mannered tenant, you were good to go.”
He hold s out his hand to greet mine. “Cage.” Another crazy beautiful smile follows. “Cage West.”
I reach out my hand in return. My entire body shutters from the energy of his hand engulfing my own. “McKenzie. Nice to meet you.” I look away, our hands still connected for way too long.
This. Is. Not. Good.
“So it’s up to you at this point?” he asks, his cocky smirk back in action.
“Yeah, I’m in charge. My father’s away for a bit.”
Way too much information McKenzie. Why don’t you just give the guy the combination to the safe while you’re at it. Or better yet, just give him the key to the main house and let him know what my shower schedule is.
“The rent is four hundred a week. Due on the Friday of each week. I need some s ort of proof of income,” I say, holding onto my clipboard for dear life.
“Here.” Hottie pulls out a wad of cash too thick for someone who spends his su mmer bumming around with a surfboard. “That should take care of all eight weeks.”
I count the cash. Thirty two hundred even.
“Also, I’m supposed to tell you that you can only have one guest per night.” He’s strumming his ukulele as I’m talking to him.
He tosses the instrument on a beach chair and looks around. “Nice view, just like the ad said.” Cage stares off into the distant ocean view. “Must have been nice growing up in all of this.”
Nothing was nice about the way I grew up.
“I guess,” I say dismissively. “After a while you start to just forget the ocean’s even there.”
He nods his head at me and widens his eyes, not too keen on my dreary outlook.
“If that’s your choice.” He turns away from me to look out at the Atlantic again.
My choice? The last thing I need is to be lectured on the meaning of life from some meathead.
“Also there’s no pets allowed and no smoking,” I say, looking over my father’s checklist hoping to make him proud of his daughter. Not that that’s actually possible.
“Crap. Where am I going to store my pet giraffe?” His teeth are beaming. Damn his smile is addicting.
“Oh, I meant no pets,” I pause, “except for giraffes. Just make sure his head doesn’t crack our ceiling.”
“You mean her head.” He seems to be getting off on our little banter.
Strangely. Sadistically. So am I.
“Whatever floats your boat,” I say, turning away from him as I pull out the spare set of keys. “Just keep the noise down after 10:00. People like things quiet around here.”
I’m beginning to like playing landlord with this guy.
“How about you?” His voice gets serious suddenly. “Do you like things quiet?”
I turn and see his shit-eating grin. And it seems like the more he tries to mess with me the more attractive he becomes.
Stop it McKenzie. Stop this madness. You have a job to do here.
I hold up the spare keys . “Come with me, I’ll show you to your place,” I say, walking around
Then he turns around…
Holy goddamn crap. Him again . Hottie surfer dude from the café . I fumble my clipboard and watch it go spinning wildly out of my hands, sending papers across my entire back walkway.
Smooth move McKenzie . My father would already give me an “F” at this point.
“Wow, y ou really keep yourself busy.” He grins, holding a duffle bag in one arm and a ukulele in the other.
“And you really make yourself at home,” I say, looking down at his belongings. He’s probably one of those guys that prides themselves on their overly simple lifestyle; the kind of guy that goes above and beyond to prove himself as a professor of relaxation.
“Whenever possible, I always choose comfort.” He drops a wide smile. I feel like a blob of jelly.
“Whatever, no problem . My dad said that as long as you agree to the terms, can pay the rent, and appear to be a reasonably mannered tenant, you were good to go.”
He hold s out his hand to greet mine. “Cage.” Another crazy beautiful smile follows. “Cage West.”
I reach out my hand in return. My entire body shutters from the energy of his hand engulfing my own. “McKenzie. Nice to meet you.” I look away, our hands still connected for way too long.
This. Is. Not. Good.
“So it’s up to you at this point?” he asks, his cocky smirk back in action.
“Yeah, I’m in charge. My father’s away for a bit.”
Way too much information McKenzie. Why don’t you just give the guy the combination to the safe while you’re at it. Or better yet, just give him the key to the main house and let him know what my shower schedule is.
“The rent is four hundred a week. Due on the Friday of each week. I need some s ort of proof of income,” I say, holding onto my clipboard for dear life.
“Here.” Hottie pulls out a wad of cash too thick for someone who spends his su mmer bumming around with a surfboard. “That should take care of all eight weeks.”
I count the cash. Thirty two hundred even.
“Also, I’m supposed to tell you that you can only have one guest per night.” He’s strumming his ukulele as I’m talking to him.
He tosses the instrument on a beach chair and looks around. “Nice view, just like the ad said.” Cage stares off into the distant ocean view. “Must have been nice growing up in all of this.”
Nothing was nice about the way I grew up.
“I guess,” I say dismissively. “After a while you start to just forget the ocean’s even there.”
He nods his head at me and widens his eyes, not too keen on my dreary outlook.
“If that’s your choice.” He turns away from me to look out at the Atlantic again.
My choice? The last thing I need is to be lectured on the meaning of life from some meathead.
“Also there’s no pets allowed and no smoking,” I say, looking over my father’s checklist hoping to make him proud of his daughter. Not that that’s actually possible.
“Crap. Where am I going to store my pet giraffe?” His teeth are beaming. Damn his smile is addicting.
“Oh, I meant no pets,” I pause, “except for giraffes. Just make sure his head doesn’t crack our ceiling.”
“You mean her head.” He seems to be getting off on our little banter.
Strangely. Sadistically. So am I.
“Whatever floats your boat,” I say, turning away from him as I pull out the spare set of keys. “Just keep the noise down after 10:00. People like things quiet around here.”
I’m beginning to like playing landlord with this guy.
“How about you?” His voice gets serious suddenly. “Do you like things quiet?”
I turn and see his shit-eating grin. And it seems like the more he tries to mess with me the more attractive he becomes.
Stop it McKenzie. Stop this madness. You have a job to do here.
I hold up the spare keys . “Come with me, I’ll show you to your place,” I say, walking around
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