The Landlord

Chapter 24

"Hell no, that is too out there, too specific of a style."

"Dude, it's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen." Well, besides him. Eagerly sitting on the pretty black leather couch, I groaned. "It's so comfortable."

"Sorry, has to be more generic if it's going in every house," he chuckled, getting a kick out of how much I wanted it. "Say your goodbyes now."

Ugh, but it was gorgeous! Even had a stylish chair to match. It pained me to have to walk away from it, but I followed after him as we continued our journey.

After a while of looking, we settled on a simple gray leather couch with a matching recliner chair. Personally, not my favorite, but nice and comfy for the type of homes on our street. Blake knew the owners of the furniture store, so he made a special order for 13 sets. Cost a shit ton of money – even for me! I was blown away, but Blake explained a few things that made the expensive decision more understandable.

"Since I am a landlord, and do business with their company, they will be giving me a considerable discount. That, along with selling off the old furniture, I'm actually not breaking the bank."

I believed him 100%. Because I quickly learned Blake was one hell of a cheap ass.

We were browsing through old books. In a place called 'Discount Books' in the mall. Since we were already in the city, we went shopping after the furniture store. Though he protested (especially when I wanted a manicure), I reminded him of how often we did things out of my comfort zone. So, with that, our first stop was this book store. No joke, the man refused to buy any book that was over five dollars. Luckily, there was more than enough that was under that price. Thank god because the last thing we want is Blake to buy a five dollar book instead of a two dollar book.

Regardless, I was intrigued. I didn't know Blake was an avid reader, but I guess he was. Following after him, I was more watching him browse the books. Most the books he pulled off the shelf to look over were mostly mysteries. "Do you only read mysteries?"

As he browsed over the back cover of the book in his hand, he said, "No, but that's what I read most often for sure. Do you read much?"

"I go through phases, but not really. If I had free time, I preferred painting over reading."

He glanced up to me. "I really think you should start painting again."

Honestly, I was thinking about it more and more. I missed it. I had a lot going on in life, but that might be more reason to need to paint. "I might, I've been thinking about it."

He smiled, looking back down to his book. "You only do city-scapes? What about people?"

"Naw, I am not good at painting people."

"That's a shame. A portrait of me with Sherman on my shoulder would really tie my whole living room together," he said.

"With a riffle in one hand, fishing pole in the other," I scoffed, following him as he rounded into the next aisle of books. "Then, a book with a three dollar label can be balanced on your head."

Stopping, turning on his heels, he faced me and I nearly walked right into him. That flirtatious gaze was back and I couldn't get enough of it. He tipped his head down and looked down the bridge of his nose to me. "You know what else could go in the portrait? It could be raining cash in the background, from all the money I save on a daily basis."

Shaking my head, tilting my head, I bit my lip. "Yes, because you are filthy rich."

"It's the only explanation of why you hang around me," he smiled, then continued on to look at more books.