Chapter Four

"K endall, a moment of your time, please," Chet Dawson called out from his office when Kendall passed by.

Fighting off a cringe, Kendall stopped in his tracks and changed direction. Entering the office that had once belonged to Vivian Gross, the rising-star attorney who'd hired and mentored him for five years, hadn't gotten any easier.

His former boss and dear friend hadn't just died, though. Vivian had been murdered by a woman who'd become obsessed with one of her clients, and Kendall had been the person to discover her. He felt her absence every day. He couldn't believe two years had passed since he'd heard her laugh or call someone out on their bullshit. Vivian had believed in him when no one else had. She'd offered him a home when he'd had no place to go and had given him her friendship without any expectations from him. Vivian had encouraged him to become a paralegal because she'd believed Kendall was capable of so much more. To give up on this career would be letting her down. But staying someplace that made him miserable was letting himself down.

He still expected to smell her favorite gardenia perfume when he crossed the threshold, but all traces of his friend were long gone. Elderwood, Johnson, and McClary had hired a shark disguised as a man as Vivian's replacement, and he smelled like sandalwood and brimstone.

His chest tightened when he entered the office, and he shoved his hands into his pockets to prevent himself from rubbing the ache. "Sir?" Kendall asked coolly. They weren't close and never would be.

Chet's attention was focused solely on his computer screen, putting his face in profile. He was a handsome devil with his dark hair and eyes, swarthy skin, and impeccable bone structure. He wore designer suits and smelled like sin, but that was all Kendall knew about the man. They'd never had a single personal conversation since they'd started working together, not that Kendall was complaining. His new boss was a constant reminder of how much he missed Vivian. Chet glanced briefly in Kendall's direction before returning his attention to the computer. The attorney's fingers danced over the keyboard, making Kendall curious about what had captured his attention so completely.

"You did an excellent job during the deposition last week. You're a real asset to the firm." Chet's compliment was given in his courtroom voice—smooth like honey—but without the slightest attempt on the attorney's part to make eye contact. It felt insincere and empty.

With anyone else, Kendall would've been pleased with the high praise. He'd smile and force the tension from his body. But with Chet, Kendall suspected the man wielded compliments like a weapon to unarm and manipulate others.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Dawson?" Kendall asked, preferring to get down to business rather than play games. He figured he could go toe to toe with the likes of Chet, but he was short on time. He had an appointment to tour an apartment in thirty minutes, and he was already cutting it close. According to the property manager, there was only one vacancy and several people were vying for the apartment.

A shiver of terror and excitement raced through Kendall's body. He'd never been on his own before. He'd lived with his mother and stepfather until the latter had made him choose between living under his roof or living openly and honestly. Kendall had packed his clothes and moved into the decrepit car he'd bought with the money he'd squirreled away. It had been a piece of shit, but it was the first thing he'd bought all on his own, and it provided shelter for a few days until Vivian had found out about his situation and swooped in to rescue him. After she passed, Kendall moved in with his friend Jonah. He'd been content there, but Jonah and Avery deserved their privacy, and Kendall needed to grow the hell up. This was a big step, and he didn't want to blow it by missing his appointment.

"I've decided to take on Bobby Jack Dennison as a client. He and his parents will be here soon to sign the attorney-client representation agreement," Chet said without looking away from his computer. "I need you to make some amendments to a few sections."

"Bobby Jack Dennison?" Kendall asked flatly. "The kid who bullied his gay classmate until he ended his own life?"

Chet's fingers stilled, and he finally met Kendall's gaze. "Alleged bullying."

Screenshots of Bobby Jack's vicious texts and videos of him harassing Joshua Jones had been splashed on every media outlet for the past month. Bobby Jack had set up fake social media accounts and pretended to be gay to lure Joshua out of the closet, then shared every message the two had exchanged. The bastard was pure evil, and Kendall felt sick to his stomach. He'd been the kid who'd gotten picked on and beat up. Some kids could hide their queerness while others had it stamped on their foreheads for the world to see. Kendall had fallen into the latter camp and had decided if he was going to get his ass beat, he'd go down in style. Since he'd attended a private school, there was little variance permitted with his uniform, but he found ways to circumvent the rules. Eventually, he caught the eye of the biggest baddest dude in the school. The bigger they are, the harder they fall to their knees to suck your cock or beg to tap your tight ass. Maybe Kendall's allegory veered away from the familiar saying, but it was no less true.

"But, sir, he—"

Chet's scowl cut off his protest. "I do not get paid to like my clients, Mr. Blakemore. I get paid to represent them." It didn't hurt that the boy's parents could give Midas a run for his money. "If you have a problem with the clients I bring into the firm, I suggest you take it up with Mr. Elderwood. If this is nothing more than a personal grievance because you can't separate your emotions from your job, then perhaps you'd be better suited doing something else with your life." Chet raised an arrogant brow, daring Kendall to reveal his hand.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell the prick to go fuck himself, but he straightened his spine in response to the gauntlet thrown. "What clauses would you like me to change, sir?" He could whip the contract out in no time and still make his appointment to tour the apartment.

The right side of Chet's mouth crept up into a sneer. "My retainer fee, for starters. I want a hundred grand upfront." It was more than twice his usual retainer. Kendall didn't say anything, but his face must've betrayed his surprise because Chet's sneer returned. "If Stuart and Denae want me to represent their little asshole, then I will be handsomely compensated."

Under normal circumstances, Kendall might feel a modicum of respect for the man, but his disdain for Bobby Jack was deeply personal. "And your hourly rate, sir?"

"Fifteen hundred. And I'm still not sure that will cover the amount of bleach I'll need to purchase."

Despite his better judgment, Kendall let down his guard a little. "So why do it?"

Chet gave Kendall his full attention, coolly assessing him. "Do you think only innocent people deserve legal representation?"

"No." Though Kendall did wrestle with the win-at-any-expense attitude prevalent at the firm. Winning wasn't everything when it meant awful people were free to harm others. "But I think we disagree on what fair representation means."

Chet leaned back in his leather chair and studied him curiously. "I'm listening."

Kendall knew he should let it drop; he did have that appointment after all. "It doesn't really matter what I think, and my personal beliefs won't interfere with my professional judgment."

Chet narrowed his eyes, and Kendall thought the attorney wasn't going to let their disagreement drop. His moniker wasn't Bull Shark for nothing. After a moment, Chet nodded curtly and said, "See that it doesn't."

"Any other clauses you'd like me to amend?"

Chet ran through a few more changes, focusing on the type of behavior he demanded of Bobby Jack until the civil trial ended. He insisted Bobby Jack deactivate all social media accounts under his name and promise not to open anonymous ones. If Chet had the slightest suspicion Bobby Jack was harassing, stalking, or engaging with Joshua Jones's friends or family, the contract would be void. "Make sure they know I'll retain the fee, and payment for all billable hours will be due immediately upon the severed contract."

"Yes, sir."

Kendall hurried to his office and made the required amendments before sending them to Chet for approval. Once he received the go-ahead, Kendall finalized and emailed the final contract. He wanted to be gone before the asshole and his parents arrived but nearly collided with them when he exited his office. An apology was on the tip of his tongue until he saw the fury on Bobby Jack's face.

"Watch it," the bully snarled as he stepped toward Kendall. The seventeen-year-old towered over him and probably outweighed Kendall by seventy pounds. The blond ogre with menacing green eyes would find out just how vulnerable his kneecaps were if he came one step closer.

"BJ," Denae Dennison bit out as she gripped her son's arm and made futile attempts to pull him back. Her blue eyes widened in alarm as she stared up at her son in horror. Denae glanced at Kendall pleadingly, but he wasn't moved—physically or otherwise. Her artfully styled blonde hair swished around her flushed cheeks when she snapped her head to stare at her husband. "Do something, Stuart."

Stuart Dennison was deep in conversation on his phone, seemingly unaware of the scuffle about to occur, until Denae said his name again but much louder and with more alarm in her voice. He glanced over, then did a double take. "Bill, I need to go. Something has come up." Yeah, his son's temper. "I'll call you after we finish meeting with BJ's attorney. Yeah, I'm hoping he can make this all go away." Good luck with that , asshole . "Talk soon."

Stuart tapped his phone, slid it into his pocket, and gave the trio his full attention. He was slightly shorter than his son but just as muscular. He was dark to Denae's fair, and BJ had inherited the strongest features from both his parents. "What's going on here?" Stuart asked authoritatively while glowering at Kendall. Pompous asshole .

"I'll tell you what's happening," a new voice chimed in.

Kendall turned his head as Chet strode toward them in a powerful stride.

"Mr. Dawson," Stuart said, shifting his attention to the man he'd pinned all his hopes on.

"We're not getting off to a very good start, Mr. Dennison," Chet informed Stuart before turning to Kendall. "I see that you're on your way out, but I'm afraid I need you to make another amendment to the client-attorney agreement."

Kendall bit back a groan. So much for landing the apartment. "Yes, sir. How can I help?" Kendall's frustration nearly turned to glee when Chet outlined the behavior he expected Bobby Jack to exhibit in the law office and in the courtroom. Abusing the staff would automatically negate the contract.

Chet turned to assess Bobby Jack's reaction and sneered at the bristling bastard. "Am I understood?"

Bobby Jack's nostrils flared like a bull, but he nodded curtly. "Yes, sir."

Kendall ducked back inside his office and made the necessary changes before emailing them to Chet. The attorney approved them within seconds and included a message that made Kendall smile.

Knee the asshole in the balls if he charges you again . Then we'll keep the fucker's money . Have a good night .

Chet

Kendall logged out and was more circumspect when he exited his office, picking up the pace as he neared the employee door at the rear of the building. If traffic cooperated, Kendall could make his appointment on time. Three blocks later, someone rear-ended him at a red light.

"Fuck me," he groused. Maybe it was a sign the apartment wasn't meant to be. He released his seatbelt and got out of the car, taking out his frustration by slamming the door shut. He walked around to the rear bumper and was relieved to see the damage was minimal.

A gangly teen with frizzy brown hair, acne, and braces got out of the driver's seat and approached him. "Sorry, man," he said sheepishly. "Are you hurt?"

Kendall gave the kid points for inquiring about his health first. "Nah. It wasn't much more than a tap. You have insurance, right?"

"Yeah, but I couldn't tell you who we're with because my parents handle all that."

"You probably have an ID card in your glovebox," Kendall told him.

"Oh, I'll look," the kid said.

Before he could head to the car, a few short siren blasts sounded from nearby. Kendall saw a police cruiser several cars back, trying to cut through traffic to reach them. At least they wouldn't have to wait long to complete the report. Except the cop was a rookie, so his trainer went into excruciating detail on every part of the form.

Forty minutes later, Kendall drove off with the information he needed to file a claim with the kid's insurance company and was twenty minutes late for his appointment. Instead of giving up, he drove to the Tranquil Breezes apartment complex. Hopefully the property manager would take pity on him.

Kendall checked his appearance in the mirror, popped a piece of gum into his mouth, and headed to the front entrance. The lobby was spacious, but the tile floor looked a little worn.

A redhead sat behind the desk, snapping her gum and looking bored to tears. Her nameplate identified her as Missy. "Can I help you?" she asked in a monotone voice.

"Uh, yes," Kendall said as he approached the desk. "I had an appointment with David to view an available apartment. I got rear-ended on my way here, the cop took forever, and now I'm late. Is there a chance he'll still show me the apartment?"

"Nope," a familiar voice said behind him.

Kendall turned and locked eyes with Ridge. The man was even more gorgeous in daylight. A lock of chestnut hair had fallen across his forehead, and Kendall was dying to know if it was as soft as it looked. His eyes were a warm brown, not dark blue, and Ridge let them rake over Kendall from head to toe just like he had the first night they'd met. What was it? A week ago? Kendall had finally stopped hoping the guy would call or return to the club.

"Are you okay?" Ridge asked gently.

Better now . "Yeah. It was a minor fender bender." He tilted his head. "You're not David."

Ridge smirked and stood up. Mountain of a man, indeed. His legs stretched on forever, and his thick thighs looked immovable. An ember of lust sparked in Kendall's gut. "No, I'm definitely not David, but it's my turn to view the apartment."

"Oh man," Missy said, her dull voice not shifting in pitch. "Will I need to call the cops?"

"Already here," Ridge said, lifting his shirt to reveal a silver star clipped to his belt.

Kendall quirked a brow. "A marshal, huh?" Unable to stop himself, Kendall leaned forward. "Where are your handcuffs?"

Ridge chuckled. "In my vehicle."

"I—" Movement on the periphery pulled his attention. A lanky, balding man with a hassled expression ambled toward them. Kendall was grateful for the interruption. He'd been on the verge of making a fool of himself.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," the man said, splitting his attention between Kendall and Ridge. "Which one of you is Mr. Dandridge?"

Ridge waved his hand.

"Are you Dave?" Kendall asked.

"David," he corrected. "And you are?"

"I was your six o'clock appointment," Kendall said. "I'm—"

"Late," David replied flatly. "You can schedule another appointment with Missy if you wish."

"I'm very sorry, but I was involved in an accident, and—"

"That's unfortunate, Mr. Blakemore," David said. "But—"

"Aha!" Ridge said abruptly. "I know part of your name now."

Startled, David looked between the two men. "Do you know each other?"

"Sorta." Oh, how Kendall would love to upgrade that to a fuck yes .

"You know," Ridge said, leaning closer, "if you tell me your first name, I'll let you tour the apartment with me." Kendall bit his lip to keep from moaning. Ridge's gaze shifted down toward his mouth, then snapped back up. "What do you say?"

"My name is Sugar," Kendall said calmly, waiting to see if David would blurt out the truth.

"Uh," the property manager said. "I don't mean to be a dick—"

"Here comes the but," Kendall said to Ridge, who chuckled.

David scowled at Kendall before shifting his gaze back to Ridge. "I have several other appointments after yours. If you want an opportunity to see the unit, I suggest you come now." The lanky man pivoted and headed toward the elevator bank.

"Show him your badge," Kendall whispered.

Ridge rolled his eyes and gestured for Kendall to precede him.

"You're such a gentleman."

A rumble of laughter followed him down the hall. Moments later, Ridge's body heat engulfed Kendall as the large man caught up.

"Just enjoying the view." Kendall looked around at the dingy tile and faded wallpaper. "I wasn't referring to the building," Ridge said huskily.

Oh . Kendall wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing as the trio boarded the elevator. The climb wasn't smooth, and Kendall feared the contraption would get stuck before they reached their destination. While he could think of many things he would like to do with Ridge in a small space, he'd prefer to do it without a bystander.

"How often are the elevators serviced?" Ridge asked David.

The property manager glanced up from his phone and offered what he probably thought was a reassuring smile. It reminded Kendall of the car salesman who'd sold him his first crap car. "The elevators are inspected according to state laws."

"And that's how often?" Ridge pressed.

"I'd have to look, but I think it's annually."

Ridge narrowed his eyes and hummed. He looked like he wanted to say more, but their ascent came to an abrupt halt, knocking Kendall off-balance and into Ridge.

"Maybe this elevator isn't so bad," the hunk whispered.

"Right this way," David said, ushering them to the left. The available apartment was only a few doors down. David had a tough time unlocking the door and grinned sheepishly. "Easy fix."

"Uh-huh," Ridge said.

Kendall had already seen enough to know this place wasn't for him, but he wasn't eager to part ways with Ridge yet.

David opened the door with a flourish and stood back. Kendall looked at Ridge, who placed his hand at the small of Kendall's back and guided him over the threshold. Kendall's mouth fell open when he saw the apartment was about the same size as his small bedroom at Jonah's.

"A thousand dollars a month for this?" Kendall asked.

Apparently, David mistook his astonishment as a positive because he nodded and smiled. "Isn't it great?"

Great? Kendall looked around, noting the cracks in the cigarette smoke-stained walls. The lingering smell made him want to gag. So much for the claims it was a smoke-free building. The carpet under his feet crunched and made him want to shudder. Not even his desire to learn more about Ridge was going to keep him in the disgusting space a second longer. He started to back up and crashed into a solid wall of muscle. Ridge placed his hand on Kendall's hip to steady him. Ridge's fingers tightened, and Kendall felt branded. Well, maybe he could stay a few minutes longer. He should at least check out the bathroom and bedroom.

Bedroom turned out to be a generous term. Though there were four walls and a door, Kendall had seen bigger linen closets.

"Cozy," Ridge said, his breath ghosting over Kendall's neck.

Kendall gasped and nearly swallowed his gum. Behind him, Ridge chuckled and returned his hand to Kendall's hip. His touch was somehow hotter than the first time. David's phone rang, and he excused himself to take the call. He stepped out of the apartment, leaving them all alone.

Kendall turned around to face Ridge but resisted the urge to press against his broad chest. "This feels like something out of a horror film."

"Want to place a bet on the bathroom's condition?"

"What do I get if I win?" Kendall asked.

Ridge briefly glanced down at Kendall's mouth before meeting his eyes once more. "Anything you want."

His pulse galloped at the myriad ideas flitting across his brain. "A kiss."

Ridge quirked a brow. "Bold. I like it."

"And what will you claim?"

Ridge leaned in until his lips were a hairsbreadth away. "I want to know your real name. First, middle, and last."

"So you can run me through the system?"

"Not hardly." Ridge quirked a brow. "Should I?"

Kendall laughed. "No, but I don't agree to your terms."

"Fine. I'd settle for the secret sweet ingredient in the Regret wing sauce."

"Deal."

After agreeing on prizes, they each stated what they expected to find on the other side of the door. Kendall had guessed a stained toilet and a disgusting shower. Ridge had simply assumed a dead body.

"Are you throwing the bet?" Kendall asked.

Ridge took a deep breath. "Well, I can't stop thinking about your mouth and wondering if your lips are as sweet as they look."

"Like sugar. So, should we have our kiss now without traumatizing ourselves by opening the bathroom door?"

Ridge reached around him and gripped the knob. "After you."

"No way in hell."

Ridge maneuvered around him and flipped on the light. "Looks like I win."

"Shut up," Kendall said, spinning around to see that his predictions were accurate and were the least of the problems in the tiny space. "This is gross," he said as he brushed past Ridge. His body tingled, feeling more alive than he had in two years. He yanked back the paper-thin shower curtain and grimaced at the rusty stains at the bottom. The stench coming up through the drain was enough to make him gag, but he staved off the urge. "There is nothing tranquil about this breeze."

"You can't even open the linen closet without shutting the door," Ridge said.

Kendall snapped his head around. "Don't—" his protest was drowned out by creaking rusty door hinges. Shut the door .

Ridge waggled his brows. "Want to claim your kiss now?"

"In here?"

"The monster inside the linen closet will kill us both."

"Yeah, I've seen that movie," Kendall agreed.

Ridge slowly licked his lips. "Looks like it's now or never."

"A more compelling argument, I've yet to hear."

A faint whimper filtered into the bathroom, and for a second, Ridge and Kendall just stared at one another in shock. Then Kendall realized the sound was coming through the wall separating the apartment from the one next door. Heat crept up Kendall's neck when a steady thumping shook the wall hard enough for grout to shake loose from between several shower tiles. The faint whimpers became guttural moans.

"Oh god," Kendall said and buried his face in his hands.

"That's what he said." Kendall spread his fingers and peeked between them to catch Ridge smirking. "Seriously. One guy said, ‘Fuck me harder.' The other said, ‘Oh god.'"

"You were able to make out the words?"

Ridge held up his shirt again, flashing his badge and cut abs. "I've developed a keen ear after years of surveillance. Fairly sure one of them is named Manuel."

The thumping turned into hardcore banging, and the groans became shouts. Kendall rubbed the back of his neck and implored his body not to respond to the stimuli. He crossed the room and yanked open the closet door so hard the handle came off in his hand.

"Oops."

Ridge took the knob from his hand and set it on the vanity. "We'll say the banging next door caused it."

"Good idea."

"And I'll happily pay up that kiss but preferably in a place where we're not likely to pick up bed bugs or something else."

Kendall grimaced as he looked around. "Also a good idea."

"We'll just—" Ridge's voice cut off when the bathroom door wouldn't open. "Oh shit."

"Is the handle stuck?" Kendall asked, elbowing the bigger man out of the way.

The knob turned easily, but the door didn't budge. Kendall turned the lock, hoping it had just slipped when Ridge shut the door. He tried the handle again with no luck.

"Christ," Kendall groaned. He turned toward Ridge. "Use those big shoulders and get us out of here."

"Won't work. The door swings in, not out."

"I bet you could blast a hole in the door," Kendall said.

Ridge shook his head. "This building appears to be cheaply constructed except for the doors." He knocked on it for emphasis. "Solid wood. I'd have more luck running through the wall."

Kendall quirked a brow to ask what he was waiting for.

"I think a better use of my time is to give you the kiss you won fair and square."

"I thought you said we'd get lice or scabies in here?"

Ridge took two steps forward, pressing Kendall against the very solid door. "I said bed bugs, but we have to find some way to pass the time until David gets off his call and realizes we're trapped."

When Ridge placed both hands on his hips, Kendall forgot any protest he could've made. The only thing that mattered was feeling Ridge's firm mouth against his. The big guy didn't move fast; he took his time, allowing Kendall to call a halt at any moment. He didn't. The first press of lips was tentative and gentle. Ridge pulled back and looked at Kendall, sizing up his response. Should he proceed or back off? Kendall gripped Ridge's thick neck, stood up on his tiptoes, and settled any debate. Ridge's mouth met his, and this time, his kiss was bold and confident. Kendall parted his lips, and Ridge licked into his mouth, tangling their tongues together.

Kendall moaned as loud as Manuel, Michael, or whoever was next door. Ridge answered with a growl that made Kendall's toes curl.

A loud knock sounded on the door by Kendall's head, jarring him out of his lusty haze.

"Hey!" David shouted. "What's going on in there?"

Ridge recovered first. "The door's stuck."

"Did you try twisting the lock? Sometimes they're a little tricky."

"I didn't twist it in the first place, so there's no need to try it in the other direction," Ridge argued.

"Just try," the property manager said.

"That was the first thing I tried," Kendall replied. "I think you're going to need maintenance to come up with a screwdriver."

"Damn it. I don't have time for this shit."

"Gotta tell you, Dave," Kendall said, "we're not really happy about this either."

"The name's David, and you two didn't sound real pissed a moment ago."

"I'm a US deputy marshal, Dave," Ridge said. "You really don't want to push me or find out what I look or sound like when pissed off."

"I'll make the call," David said.

Moments later, a cell phone started ringing on the other side of the wall. The bed knocking stopped a second but quickly resumed.

"He's not answering. Damn it. He must be out for dinner."

"What's his name?" Ridge asked.

"Manuel."

Kendall fought off a snicker. "Try next door."

"What?" Dave asked. "How would you know that?"

"Trust us," Ridge said. "The apartment to the left."

Manuel freed them a few minutes later. The man had taken the time to put on pants but hadn't buttoned his shirt, putting his sculpted, sweaty chest on display.

While Dave braved the elevator, Ridge and Kendall took the stairs down to the lobby.

"Well, I guess the apartment comes with unexpected perks," Ridge said.

Kendall smirked and shook his head. "No hot maintenance guy is worth risking your life."

Ridge laughed. "I meant the sketchy elevator would ensure frequent use of the stairs." He nudged Kendall. "I see you had a different kind of cardio in mind."

"And it's all your fault," Kendall said.

They stopped and faced each other when they reached the sidewalk in front of the building. Kendall was about to share his real name when he noticed Ridge was chewing gum. His gum. He'd been so caught up in the kiss he hadn't realized it was missing.

"You stole my gum."

"Not purposely. It happened when David banged on the door. I almost choked on it." Ridge smiled and lifted a hand to his mouth.

"I don't want it back," Kendall said. "Still want to know my name?" He started walking backward.

"You know I do."

"Then use the phone number I gave you and ask for it."

"What makes you think I still have it?"

"That silly smile on your lips."

Ridge reached up and touched his mouth. "Huh, what do you know?"

Kendall took a few more steps to put distance between them. "It's chocolate, by the way."

"Excuse me?" Ridge said.

"The secret sweet ingredient in Regret."

Ridge put his hands on his hips, and Kendall could tell he was mentally running through the flavor profile from memory. "Really?"

Kendall nodded.

"I never would've guessed. Thanks for trusting me with the secret."

Kendall winked. "Goodbye, US Deputy Marshal Kurt Dandridge."

"Goodbye, Sugar Blakemore."

Kendall smiled as he drove to his second job, but his humor fizzled as he put on the spandex shorts and mesh crop top. His paralegal gig wasn't working out the way he'd hoped, but slinging wings and beer wasn't a long-term solution, even though the tips were great. He was twenty-seven-freaking years old. Why couldn't he get his shit together?

Outside the locker room, he ran into their general manager. "Shit. I'm sorry, Drew."

"Is everything okay, Kendall?" He loved that Drew didn't call him by his silly nickname, even if it was the one on his name tag.

"I've had better days." Though he wouldn't complain about running into Ridge.

Drew crossed his thick arms over his chest. "Anything I can help with?"

"Do you have a crystal ball to help me decide what kind of career I should pursue?"

Smiling, Drew said, "No."

"Are you able to fix my car that some kid crashed into?"

"Oh no. Are you okay?" Drew asked.

"Yeah. It's just a minor annoyance. I might just bang out the dents in my bumper with a hammer and not mess with filing a claim. I don't want the kid's rates to go up." Kendall took a deep breath. "But I don't suppose you know someone who's renting a house or manages a decent apartment complex."

Drew rubbed his chin as he considered Kendall's situation. "I think I have a solution to two out of three of your problems."

"Dare I ask which two?"

Drew laughed. "A management position opened up today when I fired Erik for abusing his role."

Kendall blinked at him. "You think I'd be a good manager?"

"I know so," Drew replied. "I also happen to know someone who has an adorable little house for rent."

Kendall grimaced. "I just toured a shitty apartment that cost a thousand bucks a month. I can't afford a house."

"It's more affordable than you think. Besides, you could always get a roommate and offset some of the rent. Can you give me fifteen minutes to chat?"

Kendall gestured to Drew's office. "Lead the way, boss."