Rich Girl Poor Girl

Chapter 7

When Lex walked in the door on Friday night, she was already grinning.  Her week had been amazing; work was flowing smoothly, she was sleeping better, and every day, she came home to cooked food and Otis. 

Her housemate was a godsend; in only a few days, he’d filled her house with laughter and song, and for the first time since she’d bought it, it felt like a home.  They hadn’t progressed physically at all, spending long evenings on the couch, chilling and watching TV, but now it was the weekend and Lex had a plan.      

Dropping her keys on the table, she kicked off her heels and called out, “Otis?”

“Lexi.  In here.  Now.”

His harsh tone caught her off guard and she hurried into the kitchen.  “What?  What is it?”

Otis sat at the small table in the breakfast nook, which was strewn with hundreds of sheets of paper.  “This.  Seriously, Lexi, how did you let it get this bad?”

“Hey, I said you could hunt down one phone bill, not give me an audit,” she huffed, scraping the loose pages back together.  Before she’d left that morning, she’d asked Otis to call her phone company to report the crackling on the home line.  It was one of those stupid, time-consuming tasks Lex never found time to do, and he’d been happy to help.

She couldn’t remember who her carrier was – just one of a million small details in her life that seemed beneath her, so she’d thrust her bills box at him and rushed out the door.  The box was her shameful secret, a collection of statements and payment notices Lex added to daily, but never got around to dealing with.  She hadn’t expected to walk in the door and find her shame spread all over the kitchen, and it immediately sent her mood into a dive.

Otis was in a mood of his own.  “Lexi, you’re a smart woman; I know you know that box full of unpaid bills isn’t a long-term fix for dealing with your cash flow.”

“It’s been working fine so far,” she said, her voice rising as she jammed all the papers back into the box and slammed the lid on top.  “When it comes to work, the only place it matters, I’m very structured.  I don’t need a lecture on organisation from a homeless artist, thanks.”

He stood, towering over Lex.  Stalking forward, he pinned her with his glorious emerald eyes and said, “Before I was a homeless artist, I was almost an accountant, and I know what disaster looks like.  Let me sort out your mess.”

“No!”  She felt more horrified than if he’d asked to inspect her underwear collection.  “Look, can we just talk about something else?  What’s for dinner?”

“Lexi.”  There was a quiet force in his words, a determination she couldn’t run from.  Still in his flannel shirt, his blond hair fell adorably into his eyes and caused him to flick it boyishly out of the way, but there was an aura about him.  He was a man.  Lex hadn’t seen it before now, because she’d only ever associated manliness with aggression and stoicism, rather than cheer and care, but it was there.  “I’m not letting this go.”

“Otis, I don’t want to argue.  It’s Friday!  We’ve got the whole weekend ahead of us!”

“Us?”  There it was, the goofy smile Lex had been slowly falling for.  “You want to hang out this weekend?  I thought you’d have stuff on.”

“Nope.  I have plans for us.”  Plans that ended with Otis finally lying flat on his back on top of her silk sheets while she rode him like a cowgirl, their cries disturbing the neighbourhood.  Lex could almost feel his callused fingers playing her body like his personal instrument, and it sent a warm shiver flowing down her spine.