I cringe when sweetness instead of spice hits my tongue. “I thought it was a Hot Tamale.”
“Mike and Ike’s,” she mutters. “My kids don’t like spicy things.”
I tilt my head, my eyes roaming down her body once again. “Come again?”
“Mike and Ike’s. They’re—”
“I know what Mike and Ike’s are,” I snap. “You have kids?”
“As if you don’t fucking know,” she hisses before peeling away the paper on the Lifesavers, pulling one off the top and popping it in her mouth.
She moans like she’s in heaven or at least like a woman who hasn’t eaten candy in a while. The sound bypasses my confusion and heads straight to my dick.
“First things first,” I say, pointing to the boxes taped around her waist. “Can you take that mess off and put it in the trash? It’s getting all over the floor.”
“Don’t,” she says, smacking my hand away when I reach for the leaking box of baking soda. “I have to put that back in the fridge when I get home.”
I shrug. I hadn’t planned on vacuuming my office today, but it seems like an unavoidable task now.
“Now what is this about your kids, and why does it have you in my office, threatening to blow the thing up with baking soda and candy?”
“You ratted us out!” As if she can’t help herself, she crunches into the candy in her mouth before pulling another one off the roll and popping it in her mouth.
“I assure you, I didn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me. You get all flirty at the gym and then you turn around and betray me!”
She plops down on the sofa, coughing when a baking soda cloud puffs up into her face.
“I like flirting with you, Kendall. It’s seriously the highlight of my day, but you’re going to have to explain the other half. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I haven’t been this confused around a woman since Mrs. Tidwell came down into the basement naked when I was sixteen. Apparently, she wanted more than her dryer vent cleaned that day. That was the first time a woman mentioned liking my accent. Who knew the power an accent could wield?
“Don’t play me for a fool, Finnegan Jenkins. You know what you fucking did.”
I inch closer to her. “Such filthy language should only be reserved for my bedroom. A pretty thing such as yourself shouldn’t—”
“Don’t use that Scottish accent on me,” she snaps.
“I’m not Scottish!” I hiss.
She smiles a little, making me realize she’s only trying to rile me up, and I’m giving her exactly what she wants. Then her face falls, eyes dropping to her lap as her fingers toy with the edge of the duct tape securing the boxes around her waist.
Then the tears start to fall.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” she sobs.
Jesus, I can’t handle a crying woman. I’d walk the length of the earth a hundred times over to silence their tears. Kendall is no exception.
“If you tell me, I can fix it. No matter what it is,” I vow.
Her eyes are rimmed in red when she looks up at me. “Why cause a problem if you’re just going to turn around and offer to fix it? How about not causing the issue to begin with? Why are men so stupid?”
I’ve spent more time than I’ll ever admit wanting to get to know this woman better, but this side is making me want to both run for the hills and give her a hug at the same time. It’s a massive change from just wanting to run for the hills the last time I had an encounter with crazy.
“What happened?” I ask again, because we’re getting nowhere.
“You got us evicted,” she says on another sob, and I’m grateful when she drops her head again.
I know exactly what happened. I don’t need further explanation.
Guilt slams into me.
“You’re the one living across the hall?”
She scoffs. “As if you didn’t know.”
“Swear to God, I didn’t. I had no clue. Are you dating that guy? He seems a little old for you.”
“He’s thirty-six, and gross. No, I’m not dating him.”
He looks much older than thirty-six, seeing as how I’m thirty-two.
“He’s my brother, and he’s abandoning me, but not before he kicks me while I’m down. I have to move by the end of the week. Where the hell am I supposed to go?”
“Stay with me,” I say, the impulse to make her stop crying speaking for me.
She jerks her head up, a look of pure disgust on her pretty face.
“Are you nuts?”
I want to point to the “bomb” still strapped to her body, but now doesn’t seem like the best time to point out the obvious.
“You want me to move my three kids in with a damn stranger?”
“You have three kids?”
“Do you think I was over there making all the damn noise you called and complained about?”