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  He jogged up the stairs and stopped midway before looking down at her. “I thought you wanted to see the apartment?”

  “And we’re mentally linked, so I should’ve read your mind that you changed your mind?” she snapped.

  He shook his head like a parent seeing a child do or say something odd. “You want to see it or not? That’s if you can see anything in those shades,” he muttered under his breath.

  Kaitlyn hitched her tote higher up on her arm and followed him up onto the sidewalk and up the stairs.

  “Excuse me?” she asked, even though she had heard him clearly. “I’m sure your wife would love Gucci, baby.”

  He paused on the step and looked over his shoulder at her. “You’re right, she would’ve . . . and that’s why she’s my ex-wife.”

  “Ooh, not a backhanded insult . . . that I couldn’t care less about,” she said flippantly, with a comedic twist of her glossy lips.

  She was surprised when he just chuckled as he jogged up the stairs. Holding on to the wrought-iron stairwell, and careful not to twist an ankle as she followed him up the stairs, she was keeping it cute. Real cute.

  “Those pretty shoes would catch all kinds of hell if a dog was nipping at your heels.”

  Kaitlyn looked up to see him on the second landing, leaning on the railing and looking down at her. She continued up the stairs at her same pace.

  “I’m here to see the apartment and not for your impression of Joan Rivers on Fashion Police.”

  Another chuckle.

  She rolled her eyes as she finally reached the top.

  Quinton had remained leaning on the railing as he turned his smooth, bald head and eyed her, squinting as the final rays of sun shone in his eyes. Everything about her spelled high maintenance and trouble, with a capital T. He couldn’t do anything but shake his head.

  She suddenly stopped and posed once more. “Want to take a picture?”

  “No,” he answered with emphasis.

  “I can’t tell,” she shot back.

  Quint rose to his full height and turned to unlock the door of the apartment, which was directly above his own. He pushed the door open and then stepped back to wave her through. He didn’t even know why he bothered to show it to her.

  She passed him and her arm brushed his stomach. It clenched involuntarily just as the soft, flowery scent of her perfume reached him.

  Quint fought the instinct to jump back from her. And that physical reaction to her surprised him, because her slender build wasn’t the thick and curvy shape he preferred on women.

  He eyed the small tattoo on her neck’s nape. It was partially covered by the soft tendril of her hair; he squinted to make it out.

  She turned suddenly.

  Quint shifted his eyes away from her.

  “It’s really small,” she said. “My closet now is the size of this living room.”

  With her flashy car and even flashier wardrobe, Quint thought that nothing about the apartment or the complex seemed to suit her. He entered the apartment, leaving the door wide open.

  “It’s a two-bedroom unit, with a kitchen and two full baths. The master bedroom has an en suite. There is a small washroom in the back, which has the rear entrance leading to a balcony and stairwell, just like the front.”

  “No pool or tennis court or spa . . . huh?”

  “No, definitely not.”

  He watched her move about the apartment. Her heels were clicking against the new laminate flooring like a senior citizen’s false teeth. The little part of her face that was visible showed a grimace. Quinton felt himself bristle from her obvious judgment. He opened his mouth to tell her the tour was over.

  She reached in her big bag and whipped out a cell phone. “Call Kaeden,” she instructed as she breezed past him to walk down the hall to enter the guest bedroom.

  Quint scrunched up his face. The woman moved throughout the world as if cameras were rolling on her and she was the star of her own show. A sitcom. Everything about her was a joke to him.

  “I’m here now, Specs,” he heard her say, her voice echoing within the empty apartment.

  “It’s . . . all right, I guess,” she said. “I’m have to put a lot of my stuff in storage and just pray it doesn’t have roaches . . . like I hope this place don’t either. I am not looking for any kind of roommates. Ya know?”

  Quint stood up straight from where he was leaning against the wall. This rude bit . . . He wiped his hand over his mouth and forced himself not to finish the thought as she left the bedroom and crossed the hall to the bathroom.

  “Lord Jesus.” She sighed and walked back out, giving Quint a withering look before her feet carried her down the hall to the kitchen.

  Quint said a silent prayer for the dude she was on the phone with. His ex-wife, Vita, had been just as spoiled and self-absorbed. He knew she had been a handful for him. Foolishly, he thought his love and his forty-hours-a-week job would be enough for her.

  He had been beyond wrong.

  Quint had been looking off into the distance, staring out the window, but he shifted his eyes at the sound of her heels getting louder. She stepped into the hall. Her phone call was ended. She pushed her shades up atop her face.

  Quint’s eyes opened a bit in surprise as he took in her full face as she strutted up to him. Her face was that sweetheart shape with defined cheekbones and a little pug nose, with perfectly shaped lips. Her eyes were almond shaped and almost black in color, beneath thick, shaped eyebrows and the longest and fullest lashes he’d ever seen. Her short haircut framed her face and put even more emphasis on the defined features of her face.

  She was a really pretty girl, but what surprised him the most was that her face wasn’t heavily packed with makeup.

  “I can be back in the morning with a check to pay for three months of rent in advance,” Kaitlyn said with a look that dared him to deny her.

  Quint said nothing at first as he eyed her.

  She arched a brow. “Will that clear up that waiting list problem?” she asked.

  She had spunk and fire—maybe too much of it. Did he really want this diva living above him? But three months’ rent in advance! Did he really want to pass up not having to chase people for their rent or listen to sob stories (with actual sobs) about why they didn’t have it?

  “You have kids?” Quint asked.

  She looked offended before stressing, “No.”

  “Criminal convictions?”

  “Only if being this fine is a crime.” Kaitlyn waved her hand up and down in front of herself. “Heyy!”

  “Married?”

  “And about to move into here? No, that wouldn’t even be my life as wife. Trust.”

  “So it’s just you moving into the apartment?” he asked, sounding doubtful as he remembered her phone call to Kaeden. Maybe he was just her lover/sponsor. She looked the type.

  “I can hardly believe it myself,” she told him.

  “Kaitlyn Strong you said?” Quint asked.

  She smiled, showing him a smile that was made all the more endearing because she had a slight overbite, which knocked a chink in her perfect armor. “You come on a bit strong too, huh?” he asked.

  “Only for things I really want,” she told him smoothly as she dropped her shades back down on her face and strutted past him, out of the apartment. She paused and looked over her shoulder at him. “So you don’t have to worry. Trust.”

  Quint walked out onto the balcony as she walked away and then down the stairs.

  “First thing in the morning,” he advised, hardly believing he was introducing this very complicated woman into his uncomplicated life. “And you’ll have to do an application and credit check.”

  Kaitlyn pulled out the keys to her convertible and overdid deactivating the alarm and starting the engine with her remote. “Not a problem,” she called up to him before climbing into the vehicle and reversing out of the spot.

  Kaitlyn took a deep sip of her glass of red Moscato wine. She stood in the do
or frame of the double doors leading off her bedroom and out onto the balcony, overlooking the water surrounding James Island. She had two weeks to enjoy the view, and the space, and the high ceilings, and the gourmet kitchen. . . .

  Kaitlyn sighed. If I knew that splurge at Hermès would pop off all this drama . . .

  Her cell phone rang from its spot on her nightstand. Wearing her silk robe, she turned to pad barefoot back into her bedroom to pick it up. She checked the caller ID. It was her brother Kaleb. Out of all the siblings, she was closest to Kaleb and Kaeden because they were nearest in age. There was a pretty decent age gap among Kade and Kahron and then the three of them.

  Still, she didn’t answer him. She didn’t feel like talking. She wanted to enjoy her beautiful apartment as long as she could, before she moved to the Holtsville Arms—her nickname for the apartment complex, which was a play on the Sanford Arms from those DVDs of Sanford and Son, which her daddy was always watching.

  She thought about that rude manager. Quan? Quince? Quint. Yes, Quint. Fine? Yes. Rude? Most definitely.

  Kaitlyn turned up her nose. She had enjoyed going toe-to-toe with him verbally, but too much of that mess would irk her nerves. She planned to stay clear of him. No matter how fine. And he was fine. Way too fine to be a dang-on apartment manager in little ole Holtsville, South Carolina. She’d seen male runway models who couldn’t lick his boots.

  A waste. She sighed, waving her hand dismissively as she shifted her thoughts to her new miniature apartment.

  She could fit the whole thing in a third of her apartment now.

  Kaitlyn had already decided to turn the second bedroom into a closet. However, a lot of furniture was too large for the apartment, so it was going in storage. Another bill.

  Having never kept a job longer than a week, and accustomed to a lifestyle of shopping until she dropped and sending Daddy the bills, Kaitlyn couldn’t believe the road her life was suddenly traveling.

  Forgetting her rule about never lying on her comforters or coverlets, Kaitlyn set her wineglass on the table and fell face-first onto her bed.

  Less apartment. Less allowance. Less shopping. A lesser life.

  Why live it?

  For a maniacal moment she considered letting the plushness of the silk comforter smother her to death. Then they’ll be sorry, she thought childishly. I’ll sit high up on a cloud in heaven and look down at them crying for pushing me not to want to live.

  With an internal sigh she flopped over onto her back.

  Bzzzz.

  A voice mail. Probably from Kaleb.

  She rolled off the bed to pick up her phone and access her in-box.

  “Hey, sis. Kaeden told me about the apartment. Just let me know when you officially move in and I’ll be there to help you pack up and move into the new place. You know we all love you.”

  She bit her bare bottom lip as he fell silent.

  “Call Pops, man. He misses you,” her brother finished.

  Beeeeeep.

  Truthfully, she missed her father too, but this all was so unfair. She couldn’t pretend to chuckle it up, when she felt they were mean to cut her off. She was moving back to Holtsville, for God’s sake, in an apartment that was just a few steps from a damn low-income complex.

  Her phone rang in her hand and she looked down. Her heart pounded. It was Anola. Kaitlyn’s shoulders dropped.

  She didn’t want to talk to her friends. And tell them what . . .

  I can’t afford to go shopping once a week.

  I can’t do lunch at the club.

  I can’t vacay.

  I CAN’T DO SHIT!

  If she told them, she could just see them looking at her sadly, right before they hauled ass to continue their fabulous trust fund lives.

  Taking a deep breath, she finally answered the call.

  “Hey, diva!” Kaitlyn said, sounding overly cheerful and fake as hell to her own ears.

  “Hey, girl. I got Tandy on the line,” Anola said.

  “Whaddup, whaddup, whaddup,” Tandy piped in.

  “What y’all up to?” Kaitlyn asked, rising from her bed to leave her spacious suite and cross the floor to her kitchen. She paused in the hall to look out at the tall height of her gorgeous living room. She sighed on the inside. Deeply.

  “We haven’t heard from you and thought we could all meet up tomorrow and hit King Street,” one of them said.

  Kaitlyn grabbed a bottle of water from her fridge. She loved shopping on King Street in downtown Charleston. Loved it. The best Charleston had to offer.

  Kaitlyn made a wounded face and melodramatically clutched her chest as if she had been stabbed.

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “You can’t?” they both said in unison.

  She closed her eyes and sank down onto one of the bar stools around her granite island. “Uhm . . . my parents . . . uhm . . . uh . . . surprised me with a trip to—to Italy. Yes, a trip to Italy!”

  “Ooh, I wanna go to Italy,” Anola said.

  “For school,” Kaitlyn added in panic. “Yeah, for school.”

  Liar, liar.

  Kaitlyn dropped her head in her hand. She had to get this mess all straightened out and get back to living her life, because with every passing day she was losing more and more of herself, the things, and the people she loved.

  And that scared her.

  CHAPTER 4

  Two weeks later

  “Daddy?”

  Quint looked up from checking the oil under the hood of his Ford F-250 pickup. He spotted a tall, silver-haired man climbing out of his Tahoe and striding over to the office building. He shook his head and smiled, cutting his eyes over at Lei, who was leaning against his truck, watching him.

  “Not another one,” he mused.

  Lei smiled as she nodded. “Yup. Another one.”

  Quint wiped his large hands clean on the rag hanging from the back pocket of his uniform pants before he closed the hood and headed over to his office. His eyes were on the man. He watched him knock; then the visitor tried the handle and then turned around to look.

  Another of Kaitlyn’s brothers. In the two weeks since she was officially approved for the apartment, he had been visited by two so far. All tall. All broad. All prematurely gray. All overprotective of their sister.

  Shit, how many more are they? Quint wondered.

  “Excuse me, I’m looking for Quinton Wells,” the man said.

  “That’s me,” Quint said, extending his hand to the man, who was as tall as he was—if not taller. “And you’re here to see your sister’s apartment. Right, Mr. Strong?”

  “Kade,” he supplied, looking slightly taken aback as he took the hand offered to him. “Kade Strong.”

  Quint turned and headed across the paved parking lot. “Right this way,” he said over his broad shoulder, heading over to jog up the stairs in his favorite well-worn Timberland boots. “You roll a little earlier than the other ones.”

  “Who else has snuck over to see the apartment?” Kade asked as they reached the top landing.

  “Your brothers Kaeden and Kaleb,” Quint answered, amused by it all. “Kaeden last week, and Kaleb on Monday.”

  Kade rolled his broad shoulders and shrugged in the tan Dickies uniform shirt and pants he wore.

  “That’s our baby sister” was all he said as he entered the apartment.

  Quint left him alone with it, and just remained outside, looking up at the last of the sun filling the sky as the kids in the complex left their apartments to walk to the entrance, where the school bus picked them up. He looked down and saw Lei still leaning against his truck, listening to her iPod—a recent gift from her mother. She received more of those than she did phone calls. And Vita hadn’t been back in the state of South Carolina to visit her child or even to request Lei to come out to see her.

  He shifted his eyes downward as loud bass-filled music suddenly echoed in the air. Several young men in an old Chevy Impala, which was decked out with rims and a colorful yellow-and
-red paint job, rolled into the complex’s parking lot. Quint frowned in distaste at the car, especially at the huge pictures of the Mr. Goodbar candy bar on the doors and the hood. The car slowed down as it rolled by Lei.

  The one in the passenger seat leaned over to turn the music off as all four of the men leaned out the windows. Lei didn’t even bother to remove her pink Beats by Dr. Dre headphones as she pointed up to where Quint stood.

  The fellas all swung around to look out the passenger-side windows. They all looked seventeen or better, probably seniors in high school.

  Nada. Quint made a motion with his hands for them to keep it moving. “She’s only twelve,” he said in a hard tone. “Keep it moving.”

  The car instantly rolled away.

  Lei gave him a thumbs-up as she was already crossing the parking lot to head to the bus stop.

  That made him chuckle.

  “I got a teenage girl too.”

  Quint looked over to find Kade walking up to stand beside him.

  “And knuckleheaded little boys are enemy number one,” Quint remarked.

  Kade smiled. “Exactly,” he agreed, then turned to head down the stairs. “Oh, and—”

  Quint held up his hand. “Don’t tell Kaitlyn you came to check out the apartment.”

  “There it is,” Kade told him, and then continued down the steps.

  Soon he was climbing into his Tahoe and rolling out of the complex.

  I should ask how many more brothers there are. That’s three and counting. Damn!

  Quint locked the apartment and headed downstairs. The Mr. Goodbar car was backing out of the complex and he spotted Mrs. Ruiz’s son, Hector, now squeezed in the backseat with his friends. Quint went on his way. It wasn’t his job to police the complex and be a tyrant. Plus he refused to assume that anytime he saw a bunch of young black or Hispanic men in a car that they were up to no good.

  Quint was headed back to his work shed, anxious to spend a little time on the custom picture frame he was carving from one large piece of green wood for a widow out of Summerville. She had seen a buffet table he did for a neighbor of hers and had contacted him. He was already planning to save the extra income to get Lei a computer tablet for her birthday next month.