A Wifey for the Bad Boy(178)

“Huh,” Claire clicked her tongue. “Well, you can tell Mr. Michaels that I appreciate the gesture—you know what? No, that might just encourage him. Just say that I had a bus to catch, and thanks but no thanks.”

“Miss Claire,” Ainsley said, stepping in front of her as she tried to walk around the car. “Won’t you at least accept an old man’s help?” When Claire hesitated, he said, “Let me have the peace of mind that you’re safe and sound in your own home.”

That made Claire sigh. “Fine. But just so long as you are taking me to my place.”

“Of course, Miss Claire,” he assured her.



“Uh, you’re sure this is ‘your place?’” Ainsley asked, not for the first time.

Claire just rolled her eyes in amusement. “I’m telling you, Ainsley—this place isn’t nearly as bad as it looks.”

“Oh,” Ainsley said quietly. “That’s comforting.”

“Okay, look,” Claire said with a snort. “It may not be on its own private piece of land, or in a particularly well-lit area, but it’s super cheap.”

“Miss Claire,” Ainsley said pitifully, pointing ahead. “There are cars without tires, and too many youths creeping in the dark. Look! There’s one now!”

Claire could see him. He was young, and she guessed by his hair that he was Hispanic. She thought she could see a bulge under the back of his shirt, but she wasn’t about to tell Ainsley that.

“So?” she said instead. “It’s a free country. Leave him alone, Ainsley. He’s not hurting you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” he muttered darkly.

By the time they pulled up to her building, Claire was shaking with silent laughter at Ainsley’s antics. He was hunkered down in his seat like they were in a war zone, and his wise blue eyes were narrowed as they searched the darkness.

“Thanks, Ainsley,” she said, opening up the door to step outside.

“W-wait,” he said, putting the car into park as he turned off the engine and ran after her. “Let me walk you to your door.”

“What? And risk someone stripping your car? I hear they can steal four tires in under two minutes, you know,” she teased.

Ainsley seemed to hesitate at her words, but stuck true to his word. “Mr. Michaels would never forgive me,” he told her.

Claire just rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself.”

She led him up to the battered black door cage and entered her code, grabbing the doorknob when it unlocked. She yanked it hard, a difficult move because of all the rust, and slipped inside, waiting for Ainsley to do the same. Once he was in, she unlocked the real door with her key and led him into the entryway.

Her door was on the second floor, but she wasn’t going to make Ainsley go that far. “I’m just right up there,” she pointed at the stairs. “See you later, okay?”

“I’m coming with you,” Ainsley said, puffing out his thin chest.

Claire just shrugged. “Okay, okay.”

They went up the wooden stairs and turned left. “This is me,” Claire said, indicating the green door. “Apartment twenty-six. Thanks for walking me to it,” she said, barely disguising her impatience. She just wanted to get inside, rip off the skirt suit she’d been wearing for two days, and take a long, hot shower.

But Ainsley didn’t say goodbye. His eyes were on her door, and he gently moved her out of the way as he stepped in front of her. That’s when Claire saw it.

The lock on her door was busted.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her heart speeding up to match the erratic pace it’d hit last night in the alley. “Ainsley—”

“Let’s go back downstairs,” Ainsley said quietly. “And go back to the car.”

As soon as they were back outside and safely locked within Chad’s BMW, Ainsley pulled out his phone and dialed nine-one-one. “Yes,” he said calmly to the other line. “I’m at the corner of Bradley and Kent, at two-sixty-seven apartments. I’d like to report a robbery.”

It wasn’t long before they saw the flashing red and blue lights behind them. Two officers exited their patrol car, and Ainsley left the BMW with Claire to take them upstairs. They stood aside as the police nudged the apartment door open, their weapons out and flashlights on, ready for anything. Claire couldn’t hear anything besides her blood rushing in her ears, but a small voice in her head kept whispering, “Calm down, girl. I don’t want to kill you unnecessarily.”

It only took a minute for the officers to sweep her studio apartment. Soon they were back at the door, opening it wide and flicking on her main light. “Whoever it was, they’re gone now. But ma’am, if you notice anything missing,” one said, handing her a business card. “Please, don’t hesitate to call me.”