Page 4

I filled out the intake form, and a half-hour later, was given an appointment later that night. I was shocked that it was all happening so fast, and had it not been an emergency, I’d have looked into the agency more carefully. But I was desperate and was determined to ignore any and all red flags.

I told Jason and Tyler that I was going out to find the money. They seemed fine with that. Probably because they know if push came to shove, I’d cave.

I explained everything to the realtor, gave them my budget, and that keeping my pet was a priority.

“With your budget, would you consider looking at places that need a new roommate?”

“No. I’m done with roommates. I need a place of my own. Is it possible?”

“To be honest with you, I don’t know if it is.” She started tapping away, and then she looked at me. “This may be your lucky day. A new listing just came in at Moonridge Place.”

I’d never heard of it.

“The rent’s within your budget. There’s no pet fee. It only needs first and a small deposit.”

It sounded way too good to be true. But where I was was horrific, so I was willing to take a chance.

“How can I apply?”

We filled everything out, sight unseen. I never thought I’d be someone to agree to an apartment I’d never once seen. The process was quick. I talked on the phone with their building manager, paid a deposit, and then next thing I know, I’d signed a lease at a place where Pierogi and I could live without toxic roommates. I was relieved, but also pretty freaking nervous.

If the apartment was uninhabitable, I’d be able to break the lease by state law. With my logic, that meant there'd be no major holes in the floor or mold on the ceiling. But paper-thin walls, peeling paint, appliances that didn’t work? Those were all possibilities. I wasn’t high-maintenance. If need be, I could live with a hot pot, wearing my noise-canceling headphones, and a college-size fridge.

I could make it work. What I couldn’t do was make my current place work. Tomorrow morning I was touring my new home. Fingers crossed I hadn’t made a bad situation worse.

3

RADLEY

Jon caught me on the stairs. He had a paint roller in each hand which made me suspicious because why did he need two?

“Radley. You’re just the dragon I wanted to see.” He said it as if it was a coincidence and not because he’d been lying in wait by the mailboxes for whoever came along first. He did this all the time and pounced on unsuspecting tenants, asking for their help.

Hmmm, you’re the only dragon shifter in the building. Even my beast wasn’t buying whatever Jon was about to say.

“You’re strong, aren’t you? I mean, look at you.” He stood back and patted my biceps.

I asked him what he needed. Probably a piece of old furniture that was destined for the trash needed to be carried downstairs.

“I’ve been in Miles’s old place on the second floor.” He poked one of the rollers against my chest. “It needs painting, and the kitchen tap is leaking. Also the bedroom door won’t shut. Do you know how to make a door shut?”

“I think I can manage that.”

He patted my back. “See. I knew you were the one to ask.”

I should have said no because that’s what I’d done since I arrived at Moonridge Place. But Jon had allowed me, a scarred dragon, to rent an apartment when I had no flight or references. He didn’t have to do that, and despite him being a little muddled-headed at times, he was kind and generous, and I liked him.

I followed him to the second floor. The apartment seemed bigger now that it was empty of furniture. Miles had cleaned it before he moved. That was in the contract, and Jon was strict about making sure everyone left their apartment as they’d found it. But someone, probably Jon, had already put masking tape around the window glass. It was crooked and half of it was already peeling off.

He handed me one of the rollers and a tray and said he’d do the trim because he had a steady hand. I’d witnessed his steady hand before, and I was doubtful he’d get it done without having to redo it.

I painted one wall while he did the trim, some of the window glass, a stripe on the floor, and the cuff of his jacket.

“Where did that come from?” He tugged his sleeve, transferring paint onto his hand.

There was eye-rolling from my dragon, but he had a soft spot for Jon too, so I didn’t have to listen to his complaints.

Jon talked the whole time as we worked, filling me in on what was happening with the other tenants. Mrs. Munro’s cat had been up a tree again, which I knew because I’d heard it meowing. Mr. Girling was still feuding with the tiger twins over a recent barbecue where they’d insulted his cooking. And Clover had asked after me because she’s made too much banana bread and thought I might like some.