Earning Edie (Espinoza Boys #1) (6 page)

What if she killed me in my sleep? Or what if she cried every night and made me feel guilty as shit? Or, hell, what if she was obsessed with me because I’d flirted at the party?

Get over yourself, Espinoza.

She hadn’t looked at me appreciatively, even before I’d pissed her off. That hurt my ego but also eased my anxiety. She was just a high school graduate, practically the same age as my little brother. I could handle it.

Stepping inside, I braced myself for awkward small talk. Instead, I found dark, silent rooms.

Moving into the hall, I wondered: Had she already changed her mind and left?

She could have gone out with friends, but that didn’t strike me as fitting with her personality. Especially after her speech about working more and focusing on her plans for college.

The bathroom door was open, the light off. That just left my bedroom. The door stood open, but it was also dark inside.

Peering in, I could just make out Edie curled up in the center of the bed, still fully dressed and on top of the blankets. She was sound asleep, with a small stuffed lamb clutched to her chest.

Damn, that’s adorable.

I considered waking her up and offering to order dinner. But I dismissed the thought. She wasn’t my guest. She wanted to teach me a lesson, not become my friend.

Gently closing the door, I returned to the living room and set up my bed for the night.

At least there would be no awkward conversation or guilt-laden lectures. I’d crash on my air mattress, and leave for work before we had a chance to say much more than good morning.

CHAPTER 5

EDIE

My cellphone buzzed obnoxiously, yanking me from a restless sleep. I groaned and hit the button to silence it, though I really wanted to throw it across the room and bury my head under the pillow.

After my evening nap, I’d been awake half the night, filled with the anxiety of what-ifs.

What if I can’t fix things with my family? What if I can’t save enough for college? What if I end up a bouncy house attendant for the rest of my life?

My shift at Jumpin’ for Joy was scheduled to start at 10, two hours from now, and I had to walk 8 blocks to the nearest bus stop to catch a ride. And of course, the bus times didn’t coordinate exactly with my schedule, so I’d be arriving to work early. It was that or be 40 minutes late.

That meant I needed to get ready, even though my eyelids felt like weights. I’d just rest for one minute, then get moving.

I rolled over and fell asleep. When I opened my eyes again, my phone rested on the pillow next to my cheek, the 8:30 a.m. time display glaring at me accusingly.

Crap!
I’d lost half an hour.

Rolling out of bed, I ran over to my bags, still packed. I’d had plenty of time to get organized yesterday, but as much as I wanted to impose on Nick to teach him a lesson, I couldn’t bring myself to yank his stuff out of drawers to make room for mine. I’d made a pitiful excuse for a snoop, spending most of my time surfing the web on his computer in the hopes of finding some scholarship or grant opportunity I’d overlooked and crying over my hopeless future.

Grabbing the first pair of shorts and T-shirt I could find, along with underclothes that in no way, shape or form would match (I was fairly certain I’d be totally humiliated if ever in a hostage situation that required me to undress), I hustled into the hall and made a beeline for the bathroom door.

And choked on my tongue.

Nick frickin’ Espinoza stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his face lathered with shaving cream. If he looked good all dry and put together, he looked even better with damp hair sticking up in little waves and his caramel skin beaded with moisture.

Before I could stop myself, my gaze slipped down. He was wearing a towel — thank all that is holy! — but was still displaying way too much skin for my heart’s well-being.

“Nick!” I screeched, and his hand jumped at the noise, nicking his upper cheek. His gaze flew up to meet mine in the mirror. “You don’t live alone anymore!”

He winced and blotted at the cut with a piece of toilet paper.

There was something about watching him shave that freaked me out. It was oddly intimate, and emphasized his masculinity in a way I didn’t want to contemplate. I preferred to think of Nick as an annoying boy rather than a full-fledged man.

He didn’t respond to my screeching other than to give me a perplexed look. He carefully began another stroke, his eyes darting between watching what he was doing and catching my gaze in the mirror.

“You could close the door,” I said dryly. “What if I’d walked in while you were still in the shower?”

His lips curved up in a small smile. My cheeks went hot. I could practically hear his thoughts by the mischievous look in his eyes.

He rinsed the razor in the sink, and grabbed a towel to blot his face.

“The mirror was fogged up, and I needed some air,” he said smoothly. He turned around and a grin spread across his face. “Nice jammies.”

I glanced down at the oversized T-shirt I was wearing sporting a moping Eeyore on the front and blushed. Not because of Eeyore; Eeyore and I are like soul mates. But because it stopped high on my thigh, and I suddenly became too aware of the fact I wasn’t wearing a bra.

I crossed my arms over my chest, and gave him a look.

“You got a problem with my ass?”

Nick’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. For a few seconds, he looked like a floundering fish.

Then he got the joke.

Snorting a laugh, he rolled his eyes. “Jesus, you almost got me on that one.”

I blinked at him innocently, and he looked uncertain. “Um, that was a joke, right? Because of Eeyore. I mean, I
think
he’s a donkey. Or a mule. I was never sure. But I wasn’t— I didn’t even look …” he stuttered.

I laughed at the look of discomfort on his face. “Yeah, Nick. Because of Eeyore. I know you’re not looking.”

He recovered quickly. “I mean, I can take a look if you want to turn around. I’m a guy. My eyes will find their way there eventually.”

Great
.

First, I’d brought up my ass, as if looking for compliments. And now the guy was offering to check me out to be nice. Having a guy offer to ogle you out of a sense of chivalry was just too pathetic.

I tried to hide my blush by pushing past him into the room and dumping my clothes on the counter. It was a small space, too small.

“No thanks. It really was just a joke.”

“Too late.”

I jerked around, and he waggled his eyebrows at me. “I can definitely say I have no problem with your ass.”

“Okay!” I said, pointing to the hallway. “Out!”

He laughed, until I shoved him through the doorway.

“Hey!” He grabbed at his towel as it began to slip. “I’m not finished—”

I slammed the door shut.

“—getting ready.”

I turned the lock and ignored his knocking. And complaining. He might have shouted, too. I couldn’t hear him because I turned the shower on full blast.

Poor baby
, I thought.
He’ll have to look like a regular guy instead of a male model. How will he ever survive?

Then I remembered how good he’d looked standing there totally unstyled. He’d probably look like a magazine cover, air brushed and all, even without all his bottles of hair gel.

NICK

“Nice look, Nick. What’d you do? Roll out of some girl’s bed and come straight to the office?”

I resisted the urge to smooth down my hair. For half a second, I regretted flirting with Edie. I never could resist a little friendly banter. But look where it got me: locked out of my own bathroom and doing the walk of shame across the newsroom.

I felt like a mess, and Cat homed in immediately. She was constantly looking for a chink my armor, but I couldn’t let her get to me.

I grinned. “Jealous?”

She made a gagging sound. “I think I threw up in my mouth a little—”

“Okay, boys and girls, let’s recall that we’re adults and get this meeting over with,” Tanya said with a steely look in our direction.

I moved to take my customary seat by Sean, only to stumble to a halt as Cat jumped into the chair and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

He shrugged like “what can ya do?” and I went around to the other side of the table. I wasn’t stupid; neither was Sean. If Cat was going to cozy up, he’d let her. Until I had boobs, I was always going to lose that game.

As soon as I was seated, Tanya cleared her throat. “I won’t sugarcoat it.”

I immediately tensed. My eight weeks to save the column weren’t up — they’d barely even started — but Tanya looked like the bearer of bad news.

“We’re instituting weeklong, unpaid furloughs. Everyone needs to take a week off sometime this month or next—

A chorus of grousing interrupted her.

“We have bills to pay!” Cat said loudly.

“So does the newspaper, Cat,” Tanya returned. “We have to cut costs or there will be no newspaper to provide your jobs.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Reg, the staff’s most veteran reporter, muttered.

It kind of was. They wouldn’t go under without doing this. They just wanted their profit nice and fat.

“Also,” Tanya added. “We are in talks about cutting one more position from the news staff.”

The grumbling instantly stopped. It was like a vacuum descended as everyone sucked in a breath and stared at her.

Tanya looked strained. “We’ve narrowed it down to a couple of possibilities. It’s not yet set in stone, but I wanted you all to be aware that it could happen so you won’t be shocked by it. If anyone leaves voluntarily before we have to take action, we’ll cut the staff by leaving a position vacant rather than laying off a staff member. But we don’t know how all this will play out yet.”

“Who is on the chopping block?” Sean asked. “Why sideswipe ’em? We’d rather have some warning.”

“That would be premature. No need to stress out staff members who may never have to face that situation. I’ll give you an update as soon as I have one, and in the meantime, please know I appreciate your work and I know this is a crappy atmosphere to do your best work in. But your work is important, so keep it up.”

We began filing from the room. More than one reporter looked uneasy, and for once, I couldn’t hold myself above them.

Fighting for my column seemed almost pointless now. I
could
be on that list. And if I didn’t have a job, the column was the least of my worries.

They wouldn’t cut Reg because he was the most seasoned reporter on the job. And Sean was in so tight with the cops they’d never replace him. Me? I was a column and in-depth features. Isn’t that the first crap to go when a newspaper starts its death march?

Cat smirked. “I’d say nice knowin’ ya, Espinoza, but um, yeah. Not true.”

I flipped her off. “Ditto.”

***

By lunchtime, I couldn’t handle it. Cat had made several more jokes about my appearance, and my study in the bathroom mirror under fluorescent lighting had not reassured me. I had a giant cowlick that reminded me frighteningly of my sixth-grade school picture. I’d missed a spot when shaving, and I’d grabbed a shirt that was too tight and the pull every time I moved my arms was driving me nuts.

I grabbed my keys and snuck home to freshen up. I had an interview for a news story I’d let Tanya guilt me into doing. I didn’t want to worry about my hair or my clothes instead of nailing down the right questions.

After a record-setting speedy shower, I yanked my pants back on and tossed my shirt in the trash.
Good riddance
.

I dried my hair and put in just enough hair product to look natural but styled. Cleaned up the rough patch on my cheek, and slapped on a little aftershave. Leaning in close, I smiled. That was more like it. 

“You’re a good looking guy, Nick Espinoza,” I told my reflection.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.”

I turned slowly, embarrassment burning up my neck. I had no idea how to save my self-respect, and Edie saved me the effort of trying.

Her eyes locked onto my bare chest. “Can’t you
ever
wear a shirt?”

She turned on her heel in a huff and stomped into the master bedroom.

I followed her. All my shirts were in the closet of that room, so I didn’t have a choice. She heard me behind her, and spun around.

“What is your prob—”

Her words cut off as she bumped into me.

I stepped back, and she blushed bright red, all the way to the roots of her hair.

“What the hell, Nick? Can’t you just get dressed and leave me alone?”

Okay, now I was pissed off.

“Quit looking at me if I’m so damn offensive to your virgin eyes,” I snapped. “And move, so I can get into the closet. If you want me dressed, I have to get a shirt.”

She lost the flush of color in her face and jumped out of the way.

“Oh.”

I crawled across the bed and jerked open the closet. I didn’t take much time picking out a shirt —
again
— but I made sure it fit better. Yanking it off the hanger, I put it on in record time.

“You know, I wouldn’t even be here right now if you hadn’t kicked me out of my own damn bathroom this morning before I was finished getting ready,” I said tightly as I buttoned my shirt.

“Oh.”

I spun around, my throat tight. Don’t ask me why, but Edie Mason’s snarky words had gotten under my skin.

“I get it. You think I’m totally vain and superficial.” I rolled my eyes. “I probably am. Whatever. But damn, I spent all day putting up with wisecracks about how I must have done the walk of shame this morning.”

She winced.  “I’m sorry.”

“We’re not all naturally attractive and— Wait. What did you say?”

Did she just apologize? Did a girl say she was sorry? I thought that was against all laws of nature.

“I was rude ... and stupid. Of course, you need to come in here to get your clothes. And, I had a little fun at your expense this morning, and I’d have been super pissed if you did that to me. So, I’m sorry.”

All the aggression drained out of me. “Wow, that’s a good apology.”

She smiled. “I have lots of practice.”

“Dare I ask?”

She shook her head no, so I let it drop. I had to get back to work, so I grabbed my keys from the dresser and hesitated in the doorway.