Callie Alston had it all - the perfect fiancé, the perfect job, and the perfect life. But when her fiancé dumps her, she's forced to start over in a small Manhattan apartment.
At first, she hates the place. It's small, simple and nothing like the l...
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I was completely absorbed in scrubbing and polishing every surface in my apartment, the stubborn coffee stains still imprinted on the counter from the last tenant, which I was determined to remove. I was never one to find cleaning therapeutic, but since moving in, it was as if I was washing away my past and starting anew.
A loud knock at the door interrupted me. I lowered my head and stared at my purple flannel shirt, faded mom jeans, and white sneakers. It didn't exactly scream dressed for visitors, but I wasn't expecting anyone when I woke up this morning.
I removed the bright yellow gloves from my hands and hesitantly walked over to the door, peering through the peephole. On the other side stood a familiar face with untamed waves of dark hair and steel blue eyes.
I swung open the door and stood in front of him, not caring that my hair was in a messy bun and my cheeks were a flushed pink.
"After you kept me awake all night with your music, you have the nerve to show up at my door while I'm cleaning this mess of an apartment."
"So you've found some more clothes after ruining your last ones?" He shifted his eyes over me, and a part of me wished I had put on something more appealing to slap the smirk off his face.
"What are you doing here anyway?" I asked, hoping to change the subject and get him away from my door as quickly as possible.
"Well, 2B, your rent is due." He leaned casually against the doorframe and raised his thick eyebrows at me.
"Again, it's Callie, and yes, I know I'm waiting for the Landlord." He'd only been standing here for five minutes, and his arrogance was already getting on my nerves.
"You're looking at him."
"You're my Landlord?" I stared at him in disbelief. It was hard to distinguish if he was telling the truth or if this was another one of his smug remarks.
"Yep, I'm Sam Calvert, your Landlord." He gave me a mischievous smirk, "I'm here to collect." He held out his firm hand and wiggled his fingers, awaiting the money I owed him for the month.
Sam Calvert. Calvert Complex Apartments.
I closed my wide-open mouth, which was now dry due to the initial shock. Here I was, arguing with my so-called Landlord at every opportunity given.
Play it cool, Callie.
I grabbed the cheque I had written earlier and handed it to Sam. "I can't believe I'm paying this much money for coffee stains to still be in half the furniture."
Sam placed the cheque in the back pocket of his denim jeans and looked over my shoulder into the apartment, "Is that a cat?"
Crap.
"No, that's a very realistic sculpture." I wasn't always the best liar, and I couldn't stop the pathetic excuse falling out of my mouth.
"Then why is it moving around my apartment?" Snickers chose at that moment to jump from the kitchen counter over to the couch in one swift movement.
