Landlady: A New Adult Romance (Northbridge Nights Book 1) Read online

  Asher shot me a winning smile. “You're welcome, Landlady.”

  “My name is Sierra. Sierra Maywood,” I said. “Don't ever call me 'Landlady' again.”

  “Got it...Sienna—”

  “—Sierra!”

  “Sierra,” Asher corrected himself. “By the way, I'll need your number. In case something goes wrong at the house,” Asher said, reaching for his phone.

  I gave him my number, and he punched it into his phone. He looked up at me expectantly. “Don't you want mine?”

  “Just text me your number,” I said. “Cally and I need to get going.” Callista and I strode towards the front door.

  “Okay.” Asher shrugged. The moment we crossed the threshold, he shut the sunshine yellow front door right in my face.

  Without even a proper goodbye.

  Jerk.

  Callista smirked. “Well, that was...interesting.”

  I wiped the sweat from my forehead. “God he was repulsive. The less I have to deal with him, the better,” I groaned.

  “Repulsive?” Callista cried, “Did we meet the same person? That man was sex on a stick. He was smooth as fuck. Got your number without even trying.”

  “Ew, Callista. Please don't,” I scowled. “He's my tenant. That's why he needed my number. And you have a boyfriend,” I reminded her.

  “So? Your new tenant happens to be delicious eye candy,” Callista pointed out, sliding into the driver's seat.

  “He might look like eye candy but he probably tastes like Toxic Waste,” I said, buckling my seatbelt.

  Callista arched her brows. “Toxic Waste?”

  “You know, it's like one of the sourest candies in the world,” I explained. “He's probably got mommy issues and everything. Come on, let's get out of here. I need an iced capp.”

  Over two iced cappuccinos, we discussed my next move.

  “So where are you going to live now?” Callista asked. “You can stay at my place for a while, but it's kind of small. You'd have to sleep on the couch, since, you know, Brandon has been sleeping over more these days.”

  “Thanks, Cally. I was thinking of calling up RL office to ask for my dorm back.”

  “You're going to move back into that crappy room? Why not upgrade to a nicer suite off-campus? You have all that extra cash now.”

  “I need to be frugal with that rental income. I'll need it for tuition fees next year and to pay off my student loans.”

  Callista sipped her drink. “God, Sierra, you're always so practical about everything.”

  “I have to be. Not everyone's born with a big fat trust fund, you know.” I winked.

  “Hey! That's not fair,” Callista cried, her baby blue eyes wide. “Just because—”

  “—Calm down, princess. I don't mean any harm. I just need to be smart about this, that's all.” I finished my drink and stood up. “I'm going to make the call now. You know how hard it is to reach them sometimes.”

  The line at the Residential Life office rang three times before a raspy voice answered. I explained my predicament and asked if there were any vacancies left.

  The woman on the other end clicked away at her keyboard. Five minutes later, she informed me in a tired drone, “Sorry, Sienna, there aren't any dorms left for the summer.”

  It's Sierra, I wanted to say. And of course. Just my luck. No vacancies.

  “Can you double check please?”

  “I just told you, we're all booked up.”

  I thanked her and hung up.

  Callista arched her brow. “Well?”

  “Nothing. All the rooms are booked up for the summer. How is that even possible?”

  “There are a lot of international students who take summer school. Maybe that's why.”

  I frowned. “I guess I'll have to rent a place off-campus then.”

  “I can help you look,” Callista offered. “I'm sure there's someone looking for a roommate—”

  “—No,” I interrupted her. “No roommates. I hate living with other people. Their annoying little habits drive me insane. I need my own suite.”

  “Okay. A suite then,” Callista said. “But just so you know, a suite in these parts can get quite pricey.”

  “How pricey?”

  Callista scrunched up her nose. “Up to $1500 a month, if you include wifi, cable, and utilities.”

  My jaw dropped. “No way. But it's only $700 a month on campus.”

  “Yeah, but your dorm room is like a hundred square feet, and you share the kitchen, common area, and bathrooms. A suite with no roomies goes for around that price point.”

  I felt queasy. Maybe it wasn't such a steal to rent out Granny's entire house for a measly $2000 if a single suite cost $1500 a month.

  “Maybe I should raise the rent on that guy? It's not fair he gets the whole house for so little rent.”

  Callista shrugged. “Talk to him. You have his number, don't you?”

  I shook my head. “Not exactly. I asked him to text it to me, but he hasn't—”

  Just then, a new text message popped up from an unknown number.

  It read: Hey, Landlady, it's Asher the Trespasser. My number is 206-252-2801.

  I scoffed. Asher the Trespasser? What a lame joke.

  I added his number to my contact list. Under 'First Name' I put 'Asher' and 'Last Name', 'The Trespasser', even though I knew it was actually Morgan.

  “Is that him?” Callista asked. “What did he write? You have the dumbest grin on your face.”

  I showed her the text, and she giggled a little. “Is he trying to be funny?”

  “I think so. But he's awful at it.”

  “What are you going to reply?” Callista asked.

  “I don't know, I wasn't planning on saying anything,” I said, putting my phone away.

  Callista stopped me by grabbing my wrist. “Say something funny back.”

  “Like what?”

  “You're clever. I'm sure you can come up with something.”

  I thought for a moment and decided to text him: Sierra, (not Ms. Landlady) has received your message.

  It was the best I could do at the time, and it was decidedly unfunny.

  Seconds later, he texted: Landlady, you forgot two boxes of 'Bedroom Stuff' here.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  How did I forget half of my worldly belongings when I made my speedy exit earlier?

  My cheeks flamed, and I prayed to God he didn't have the nerve to look through my things. Because nestled among one of those 'Bedroom Stuff' boxes was something I didn't want anyone else to see. Something private. My embarrassing little secret.

  ME: I'll be right over to grab them. DO NOT LOOK INSIDE.

  As soon as I sent it, I realized my mistake. If Asher didn't want to look inside before, no doubt my all-caps warning would definitely make him curious enough to do so now.

  CHAPTER 2

  ASHER

  I LOOKED AT THE text message and smirked.

  LANDLADY: I'll be right over to grab them. DO NOT LOOK INSIDE.

  Now I was curious. A little peek wouldn't hurt, right?

  What was I going to find in there? A big black dildo? Ribbed vibrator? Porn?

  I pulled back the already peeling packing tape, my finger brushing against the edges of the cardboard box.

  This was wrong. So wrong.

  My new landlady specifically told me not to look inside. Disobeying her wishes would be disrespectful. Rude even. I grinned.

  Ah, fuck it.

  I tore off the remaining tape and opened the treasure chest.

  No doubt this box would reveal what made this prissy, uptight girl tick. Maybe she had a dark, edgy side. Something taboo and secret that no one else knew about. Fuck, maybe she was a lesbian, and I'd find a strap-on. She looked innocent enough, but the dirtiest ones always looked the purest.

  Pushing aside a sweater and a few books, I struggled to find what Sierra was so keen on hiding. I was expecting to see some lube or at least a copy of the Kama Sutra...but...


  Then my eyes landed on it: a bright pink teddy bear.

  Is that it?

  I picked it up and studied its threadbare seams. It looked like it'd been patched up several times over the years. One of its eyes had been resewn off-centre so the whole bear looked a bit...imperfect. It looked like a war veteran. The initials 'S.M.' were scribbled on the bottom of the left paw.

  How old was she? Five? Who still slept with teddy bears these days? Sheesh.

  That's probably what she—

  Just then, the front door flew open.

  I dropped the teddy back in the box, bolting upright. “Ever heard of knocking? This is still my home, you know?”

  “Did you touch my stuff?” Sierra demanded.

  I shot her a noncommittal shrug. She pushed past me and made her way to her box. It was obvious that I'd opened it since the flaps were facing out.

  Sierra narrowed her eyes at me and seethed. “I told you not to touch my stuff.”

  I shrugged again, a prickle of heat racing up my spine. I didn't expect to feel so guilty when she caught me. “Sorry,” I mumbled, “I just thought it was funny how—”

  “—Do the words, 'DO NOT LOOK INSIDE' mean nothing to you? Is it somehow okay to just breach my privacy and rifle through my belongings?”

  “What? It's not like I found a big black dildo or anything.”

  Landlady's eyes went wide as saucers. Her lips kept wagging insults, but suddenly all I could think about was how they'd taste against mine. Was that wrong? What would she do if I just silenced her with a kiss?

  Her arms were in on it too now, gesturing wildly. She was lifting up her box...

  She was leaving now. Hold on. Maybe I should say something.

  But before I could offer another half-hearted apology, she disappeared.

  Fuck. Did I just majorly fuck up first impressions with the new landlady?

  It was just a goddamn teddy bear. Sure, it was a bit childish, but it wasn't something to get her panties in a twist about. I didn't even bring it up. And considering how I'd expected much worse, finding that teddy bear was pretty underwhelming. So why the hell was she so pissed off?

  I had no doubt now that Sierra was as innocent as she looked. A little girl trapped in a grown woman's lithe, sexy body. God-fucking-damn, that body. The things I'd do to her if we'd met under any other circumstances. I'd seduce the living daylights out of her then fuck her until she needed a wheelchair afterward.

  Even if I couldn't sleep with her, I still didn't want her to stay mad at me. That wouldn't bode well for either of us. So I pulled out my phone and texted: I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you.

  I half expected her to reply right away.

  But she didn't.

  Not for two whole days.

  And when her reply finally came, it wasn't the one I was expecting.

  Don't contact me again unless there's an emergency. Sierra.

  I'm a royal asshole. I blew it, didn't I?

  CHAPTER THREE

  SIERRA

  I KNOW I SHOULDN'T have made such a big deal about it. After all, there were far worse things than a stranger finding out you still kept your childhood teddy bear. It wasn’t that I needed it to fall asleep; I just kept it in my bedroom for sentimental reasons. It was the first stuffed animal my dad ever bought me. It'd been mine for over two decades, and I didn't want anyone else touching it.

  I hated the fact that Asher deliberately ignored my wishes and violated what little sense of trust I’d had in him. I mean, I'd predicted he'd probably look inside the box, but a little part of me thought maybe I was wrong about him.

  Turns out I wasn't.

  He was exactly the type of cocky bastard who thought he had the right to do whatever he wanted.

  This realization further solidified my resolution to stay as far away from him as possible. Asher the Trespasser would bring nothing but trouble to my already hectic life.

  With final exams officially over (I'd aced them all), I would be working at Delphino's full-time until September.

  For the past week I'd been sleeping on Callista's couch and had the bedsores and bruises to prove it. (The bruises came from repeatedly knocking my knees against her coffee table in the middle of the night.) She had been a total rockstar about it all, offering me home-cooked meals and staying up with me to chat. She never even broached the subject of when I was planning to move out. Not once.

  But I could tell Brandon was getting annoyed by my prolonged sleepover. He was probably getting a bad case of blue balls and wanted this meddling cockblocker to move out already.

  And it wasn't as if I hadn't been trying.

  Callista was right. All the suites in the area were at least $1500 a month. I couldn't afford that, even with the extra rental income. I couldn't move farther away either because I needed to stay close to school and Callista. No way was I going to waste two to three hours a day commuting.

  I decided to pay Asher another visit to see if he'd be willing to pay more rent. He probably wouldn't, but I had very few options. I didn't want to get the stink-eye from Brandon a day longer than necessary.

  Resolutely, I pulled out my phone.

  ME: We need to talk. When are you free?

  ASHER: Is it an emergency?

  ME: Kind of.

  ASHER: What is it?

  ME: I'll tell you in person. I can meet you somewhere.

  ASHER: Come by my work then. 1519 Hargrave Street. Tenth floor. Ask for Asher.

  ME: What time?

  ASHER: I'll be here till eight.

  ME: Okay, see you.

  After work, I plugged Asher's workplace address into my phone and followed the commuting directions there. My heart was thrumming with nervous energy, but I wasn't sure why. Was it because our last encounter ended so horribly? Or because I really needed him to say yes to the rent hike and I was terrified he'd say no? If he refused my demand (which was probably his right), where the hell was I going to live this summer?

  I got off the bus at the intersection of Hargrave and Thurlow. Still following my GPS (I had the spatial navigational skills of a blind wombat), I found myself standing, moments later, in front of a tall, modern office building: a monolith of chrome, glass, and steel. I made my way to the elevators. The doors parted, revealing a car jammed with important looking suits. I stood out like a sore thumb in my frilly sunflower dress and cornflower blue pumps. All eyes focused on me as I strode in. I put on my most confident face and tried to act like I belonged. After all, fake it till you make it, right?

  But in my heart, I knew I was way out of my element.

  What did Asher Morgan do for a living? It was impossible to tell. But it must've been something important.

  Maybe he was an accountant? An investment banker? Stock broker? What the hell was this place?

  When the elevator doors pinged open, I was squeezed out like toothpaste. Some suits turned left, some right.

  I was left standing alone directly across from a circular reception desk. A stunning Asian woman (who looked like a model) sat in front of two computer screens. She was in the middle of a call.

  While I waited for her to finish, I scanned the room. It was a wide space with cramped cubicles lining one side and large, airy offices against the back wall. The air buzzed with non-stop chatter and a sense of importance. Urgency.

  The atmosphere screamed: You don't belong here!

  I still had no idea what type of business this was...

  Until my eyes fell on a sign.

  The large, silver metal letters were affixed to the back wall.

  Loud as day.

  Morgan, Sloane, & Perry. Underneath it read: Attorneys at Law.

  He had his fricking name on the wall?

  Asher was a hotshot city lawyer?

  No way.

  I mean I knew he must've been loaded but—

  “Can I help you miss?”

  “I'm here to see Mr. Morgan,” I said, wringing my wrist. I suddenly felt like a fish out the water.
Here I was, surrounded by pinstripes and pantsuits, and I was wearing kiddie clothes. I looked like I was about to go to a backyard barbecue, not meet a lawyer.

  “Do you have an appointment?” the Asian woman asked, clicking her mouse.

  “No, but uh, he's expecting me.”

  “What's your name?”

  “Sierra. Sierra Maywood.”

  The receptionist arched her brows. “I don't see you on here. Are you certain he's expecting you?”

  “Yes, I just texted him this morning.” I was losing my patience. Her boss needed a better secretary.

  “I'll give him a quick call. Hold on.” The woman pressed a button on her phone. “Yes, hi, Mr. Morgan. I have a Sierra Maywood here to see you. She says you're expecting her and that she spoke with you—All right. Okay, I'll let her know.” She hung up.

  Turning back to me, the woman said, “Sorry Ms. Maywood. Mr. Morgan says he doesn't know who you are.”

  That really pissed me off. I reached into my bag and fumbled with my phone. My hands were shaking so hard I had to try twice before I could plug in the right passcode. I scrolled through the contacts list and pressed the call button beside Asher's name.

  He picked up after the second ring. “Sierra.”

  “Why the hell did you tell your secretary you didn't know who I was?” I cried, my voice far too loud. I drew a few disapproving looks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just asked to see you and the secretary called you, and you told her to tell me to piss off.”

  Did that come out right?

  “Slow down Sierra. What are you talking about?”

  I dragged in a deep breath and spoke more slowly. “I. Asked. To. See. You. She said you didn't know who I was.”

  “Did you ask for Asher?”

  I frowned. “No, I thought it'd be impolite considering—”

  “—Mr. Morgan is my father,” Asher explained. “People get us confused all the time. That's why I told you to ask for Asher.”

  I felt my shoulders relax. My mouth formed an 'O', and I suddenly felt mortified. I'd just exploded in front of all his colleagues over a simple misunderstanding. “Well, can I see you now?”

  “Yeah. I'm coming out to get you.”