Red Hot (7 page)

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Authors: Niobia Bryant

BOOK: Red Hot
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Quint pushed the money into her hand. “Then just say ‘thank you,' Kaitlyn.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Quint turned and left the apartment, closing the door securely behind him.
 
 
Kaitlyn hurried over to the window and peeked through the slats of the wooden blinds. She eyed him before his body disappeared as he descended the stairs. The man hated her. Absolutely detested her. Why?
She shrugged. All that fineness wasted on a rude asshole.
She turned from the window and placed her hands on her hips as she circled the living room. When she moved into her old apartment, she'd hired an interior decorator to buy her furniture and accessories and set up the whole apartment—even her closet. By the time she slid her key into the lock, all she carried was her purse, and she was home, sweet home.
Now?
Kaitlyn sighed. The $10,000 cost for an interior decorator was so completely out of her budget. The cost for the moving company to pack up her old apartment, load the truck, and then unpack everything was high enough; and that had come from her little stash of emergency cash.
That was back when my emergency was a trunk sale.
Her cell phone rang and she raced over to where her bag sat on the windowsill. Her foot gave out from under her and twisted, sending her tumbling to the floor. She kicked off her heels in frustration and jumped up to her feet just as the phone stopped ringing.
When she finally pulled the iPhone from the inside pocket, she saw it was her father's cell phone number. She turned and pressed her ass against the windowsill as she looked down at the phone. She raised her thumb to call him back, but then she decided against it.
She really missed her parents, but she had to make them regret their decision. Kaitlyn knew if she stuck to her guns, then guilt would send them running back and dying to keep her in the lifestyle to which she was accustomed.
Right?
But again she raised her thumb above the touchscreen keypad. It would be so easy to call him.
So easy.
Kaitlyn did swipe her thumb across the screen, but it was to pull up her photo gallery. She smiled at the picture of her parents on their front porch, laughing together. They loved each other. Anyone could see that. And they made sure their kids always felt loved and wanted.
“Until now,” Kaitlyn muttered, closing the photo.
She went back to the guest bedroom and began unpacking those items she had carried with her. She hung them in the small closet, waiting until the moving truck arrived with the dozen waist-high rolling racks she had bought to line the walls of the room, turning it into a huge walk-in closet.
Kaitlyn was pairing up her shoes, when she heard the metallic rumble of a truck. Barefoot, she padded out of her room and to the window to see her moving truck pulling into one of the empty parking spots. She dashed back into the guest room to slide her feet into a pair of flats before leaving the apartment. The door swung closed behind her.
“Shit,” Kaitlyn swore, trying the knob and finding it locked. For a moment she let her forehead lightly drop against the door before she went down the stairs.
“I'll be right with you, fellas,” she told the burly movers as they raised the tailgate of the truck.
Kaitlyn knocked on Quint's door and then knocked again. The door suddenly opened and he was standing there in low-slung khakis as he pulled on a crisp white shirt. Her eyes dipped to take in the athletic definition of his upper body.
The broad shoulders.
The ripped chest.
His narrow waist and eight-pack.
His chocolate skin was like a thin covering over pure muscle. And not bulky, oversized, steroid-fueled muscles. Just the body of a man who was physical and active and built for action.
Is the lower half as good as the upper half? . . .
“Kaitlyn,” Quint said, closing his shirt and buttoning it up.
She shifted her eyes up to him. “So you work out?” she asked, feeling her pulse race.
Quint looked at her impatiently. “Is there something I can help you with?”
That
cooled her ardor.
Good looks. Check.
Great body. Double check.
Attitude? Negative.
“I locked myself out,” she said.
Quint patted his pockets. “Let me get my keys and I'll be right up.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “Because my movers are here.”
He looked past her to the large truck and all of the contents inside it. “Uh . . . that would be hard to miss.”
“Smart-ass,” Kaitlyn muttered under her breath. Then she turned to face the movers. “Right this way, fellas.”
She headed back up the stairs and leaned against the railing as she watched the men begin to unload her furniture. She checked her manicure and looked up, just in time to spot Kaeden's wife Jade's yellow Jeep Wrangler roll into the parking lot. The bright color was hard to miss.
Kaitlyn straightened up in surprise as Jade, Garcelle, Bianca, and Zaria all climbed out of the Jeep. Each of them was dressed in yoga-type clothing and carrying plastic bags. She looked back to the car to see if her mother was with them. She felt both disappointment and relief when she wasn't.
“Here we go,” Quint said, walking up to the door to unlock it.
Kaitlyn turned to lean against the railing and take in the view of his strong back and tight buttocks covered in his shirt and pants.
Quint turned and she quickly looked up.
He visibly paused as he eyed her, keeping one strong hand holding the door open.
Kaitlyn looked innocent. “Thank you,” she said, while her sisters-in-law noisily made their way up the stairs.
“Kaeden said it's number eleven,” she heard Garcelle say. Her accent sounded as heavy as Sofia Vergara's from
Modern Family.
Kaitlyn strolled up to meet them. “Hello, family,” she said, smiling begrudgingly as each one hugged her and kissed her cheek.
“You didn't think we were going to let you move into your new place by yourself,” Bianca said.
Her brothers and sisters-in-law had all called and offered help, but she had refused them. They weren't willing to give the help she wanted, so she had refused to accept the help they chose to offer.
But now that they had appeared, she was glad to see them and grateful. She blinked away a sudden rush of tears.
“Thanks, y'all,” Kaitlyn said softly, sounding more like the little girl who had grown up on a horse ranch in South Carolina than she had in a long time.
“Your mama is watching the babies,” Jade added, reaching out to pinch Kaitlyn's wrist lightly. “She wouldn't come without knowing if you wanted her, but she's watching the kids and gave us all kinds of cleaning supplies. She misses you, Kat.”
Kaitlyn's heart tugged, but she shrugged in fake nonchalance.
“Excuse me.”
All of the women looked past Kaitlyn at Quint.
“Oh my,” Zaria said, as she eyed the man.
“Yes . . . oh my,” Bianca and Jade chimed in.
“Good morning, ladies.” Quint smiled a little bashfully. His dimples deepened in his cheeks and softened the hard contours of his handsome face.
“Sweet Baby Jesus
and
a pair of dimples,” Jade added.
Over her shoulder Kaitlyn eyed him with annoyance before she turned and stepped into her apartment. “Okay, thank you. Bye,” she said with a curl of her lip.
Mean self.
“So who are you again?” Bianca asked.
“Nobody,” Kaitlyn snapped, fighting the urge to press her foot to his ass and nudge him on his way. “He was just going about his business.”
He turned his broad back on her and extended his hand to the women, who had all come to block his exit. “I'm Quint Wells, the apartment manager. It's nice to meet you all.”
Kaitlyn's mouth dropped open as he smiled and put on the charm for
them.
He made her feel like a fly that just landed on his food.
“Did you ever play sports?” Garcelle asked, poking his arm with a finger.
Quint preened under the attention.
Kaitlyn wanted to slap the twinkle from his eyes.
“Not professionally, but I run and lift weights and play sports for fun.”
“Yes, yes. It shows,” Jade added.
“Okay, then. Thank you. Bye,” Kaitlyn said so quickly that it sounded more like “okaythenthank youbye.”
Everyone eyed her. What could she say? The truth?
Never.
“The movers are trying to bring in my furniture,” she said weakly.
“I have a lot to do. You ladies have a great day,” Quint said as they broke ranks to let him through.
They all looked over their shoulders as he walked away. Kaitlyn just rolled her eyes and turned away from them with a wave of her hand. She wasn't concerned about any of them actually wanting anything more than a little harmless flirting. They wouldn't give up their relationships with her fine brothers.
“Kaitlyn, you two would make beautiful
bambinos,
” Garcelle said as the ladies finally entered the apartment and moved out of the way of the more-than-patient movers bringing in her oversized, overstuffed living-room furniture.
“He's married.” Kaitlyn lied to squash all conversation of a Quint-and-Kaitlyn hookup.
There was a better chance of heaven and hell merging than
that
mess happening.
 
 
It was after dark when the ladies took their leave and Kaitlyn was finally able to drop from exhaustion onto her sofa and take a deep sip of wine. She let her head fall back on the couch as she closed her eyes. She had
never
worked so hard in her life. She broke a nail and stained her favorite shirt before she finally changed into a unitard and comfortable shoes.
After the movers came and placed some of the larger furniture items where she wanted them, that left Kaitlyn and her sisters-in-law to hang pictures, put up curtains, hang her clothes on the many rolling racks in the guest bedroom, clean and decorate both bathrooms, make her bed, and hook up her television.
Kaitlyn sighed as she thought about it all, and she groaned from imagining how much worse it would have been without their help.
Knock, knock.
Kaitlyn sat up straight and wiped the bit of drool from her mouth, not even realizing she had fallen asleep until she was jarred awake.
Knock, knock.
Stretching as she rose to her slippered feet, she made her way to the front door. She opened it to find Quint's daughter standing there, still in her school uniform of khakis and a polo shirt. She was holding an aluminum foil–covered bowl.
“Hi, I'm Lei,” she said, looking past Kaitlyn, into the apartment.
Kaitlyn eyed her. “Hi, Lei. I'm Kaitlyn.”
“I know,” she said simply, breaking into a smile. The dimples she had inherited from her father deepened in her cheeks.
“Can I help you with something?”
“I thought since you was busy moving all day that you didn't have a chance to eat yet,” Lei said, extending her arms to hand the bowl to Kaitlyn. “So I'm sharing the jambalaya my daddy made for dinner tonight. It's real good.”
Kaitlyn eyed the bowl before she took it. “Can your daddy cook?” she asked.
Lei shrugged. “A few things. Jambalaya is one of them. Can I come in?”
That caught Kaitlyn off guard. “Uhm . . . yes . . . I guess so,” she said, stepping back to let her in. “Does your father know you're up here?”
Lei walked into the apartment and looked around as she shook her head. “No, he went running, but he wouldn't mind, and I left a note,” she said as she stood before the huge black-and-white photo of Kaitlyn hanging on the wall over a buffet table and centerpiece.
Kaitlyn closed the door and took the foil from the bowl. It looked good. Damn good. Plenty of shrimp and sausage, just the way she liked it. Her stomach grumbled.
“Why'd you cut all your hair off?” Lei asked, turning away from the photo.
“I wanted to try something different.”
“Was your moms mad at you?”
Kaitlyn headed toward the kitchen, and Lei followed close behind. “No, she wasn't mad. It's just hair,” she said, scooping the rice onto a plate and grabbing a fork.
Lei sat on one of the high stools with a back that surrounded the tall wooden dining-room table in a deep mahogany stain. “My moms woulda freaked out.”

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