A/N: Another chapter! This is starting to heat up between these two now. Some sexual tension and a frustrated room-mate. A little foreshadow for you: their pent-up rage ends up leading to some very interesting behaviour on their parts. Let me know what you think!


The next few weeks had gone by quickly enough. I learned that living with the Scot was more trying than having him waste away in my spare bedroom. He wasn't a slob, by any means, but he definitely didn't clean up well enough to my standards. I was constantly finding his clothes lying around my living room, he never lined up his boots on the rack by the door and he piled up dishes in my sink, refusing to rinse or wash them.

Ortiz was still a regular in the house. He didn't spend the nights anymore, but he always seemed to show up around dinnertime, begging like a puppy for food. I sympathized with Gemma a lot during the time Ortiz was around. I couldn't imagine what it was like to have all those boys depend on her as their 'mother'. I'd have to call her one day, to thank her for the silent job she had taken on.

Filip healed quickly. He'd taken to cleaning himself up and maintaining the bandages on his face without my help. At seeing his progress I decided that I could start going back to work again. He didn't need constant supervision anymore. I knew the restaurant was getting on fine without me, but I also knew that if I stretched my employees too far, the quality of food would start to suffer. None of them were as well versed in Creole and Cajun foods like I was. Shortly after I started going back to work, the Sons hired Filip as a mechanic down at TM. Between him and I both working, and his club business, there was a quiet that filled my house. A quiet that I thoroughly enjoyed, and missed. I began to wonder how long I would have to keep my spare room open for the untidy Scotsman.

I woke up to my alarm blaring on my side table. I groaned, flinging my arm out and smacking the snooze button. I sat up and rubbed the sleepiness out of my eyes. Now that I was back at work, I had started getting up a little earlier than needed, hoping to get in the shower before Filip woke up. For a man, he took longer than most women did in the shower. If we kept up this morning battle, I was going to have to work out some kind of schedule with him to alleviate the morning stress.

I rolled my neck, working out any kinks I had and stretched my arms high over my head. I pushed the sheets off my body, swinging my legs to jump down off my bed. I stretched my legs a little, having been sore the last couple of days from standing in the kitchen all day. I needed to get my work out routine back on track. I couldn't keep putting it off. When I got a call for another job, I needed to be in tip top shape. I grabbed the towel hanging on the edge of my closet door, reaching for the knob to the bathroom. Before I had a chance to turn it, I heard the lock pushed into place. I widened my eyes, there was no way that Filip was up already. I glanced back at the clock, it was 7:30 in the morning. He didn't start work until at least 10.

I slammed my fist against the door, "Open up!"

I heard a dark chuckle and the shower turn on.

I let out a scream, "FILIP! Open this door right now!"

My scream was drowned out by the sound of running water. I was going to murder this man. End of story. I stalked out of my room, down the hall and into his. I reached his bathroom door and jiggled the handle. He'd locked his side too. Asshole! I kicked the door loudly, hoping that he could hear my frustration and walked back into my room. I threw myself back on my bed, lying face down like a starfish. I grumbled into the blankets, thinking of the worst possible ways that I could torture and kill the man who was ruining my life. Was it too much to ask to take a damn shower while the water was still hot?

Finally, after what felt like sixteen hours, I heard the faucets squeak and the water turn off. I rolled off the bed, stomping towards the door. I started banging my fists incessantly on the door, waiting for him to open it up. I heard the lock click and watched the knob turn slightly. I grabbed the knob, viciously turned it and burst through the door.

Without looking, I started yelling, "Ya did that on purpose! Ya woke up early just to spite me!"

My eyes focussed and I was staring at a completely naked Filip, retreating through the other door. I widened my eyes, unable to help but appreciate the view before me. I watched water droplets sneak down the strong rivets of his back muscles. The soft condensation shimmering on his backside was nothing less than radiant. I had to bite my lip, keeping in the gasp that was threatening to spill out. He was holding his towel loosely in his left hand, letting it hang down low to the ground. Some part of me was glad that he hadn't been facing me head on. If he had, I may not have been able to contain myself. I watched, mesmerized by his swagger, admiring the way the muscles in his ass contracted as he took each step. He must have noticed my silence because that chuckle returned. He shot me a smirk over his shoulder and I snapped out of my daze immediately. The fury rose inside me and I picked the nearest hard item to me; a bottle of lotion. I whipped the bottle across the bathroom, aiming directly for the middle of his back. He saw the movement and with a flick of his wrist slammed his door shut. I heaved in air, staring at the spot where the bottle had slammed against the door. I ground my teeth together, saving myself from the barrage of curses that sat on the edge of my tongue.

I stomped over to the door, pushing the lock in as savagely as I possibly could. I ripped the shower door open, turning the faucets on. I stood under the scolding hot water, letting it run over my body, helping to clear my mind. It wasn't working. I slammed my fists against the wall.

I shouted into the water, "Il va me faire devenir fou! [He's going to make me go insane!]"

I picked up my shampoo, pouring a nice portion into my palm. I rubbed my hands together and massaged the mixture into my hair. I stared into the fogged shower door, reliving the memory of Filip's body. Why? Why was this man such a pain in my ass? Why was this man so utterly attractive that I couldn't keep a straight thought around him? WHY?! I continued to fall deeper into my despair, sighing with lust at the thought of his luscious bottom. Was the need to want to grab and squeeze it really necessary? I scolded myself internally, hating myself for being this attracted to him. I suddenly recalled the wedding band that he was wearing the first day he was here. My guilt intensified three-fold and I leaned back, smacking my head lightly against the wall. I'm a horrible person, openly ogling a married man… I let out an angry howl.

Married, married, married, married, married, married…

I repeated the words, over and over again. Internally and as a whisper. I sped through the rest of my shower, refusing to give myself even one second to let my mind wander. I rinsed the soap off and turned off the water. I got out of the shower, wrapping my towel around my body. I didn't bother to dry my hair, only wrung the excess water out. I went back into my room, grabbing clothes without really registering what I was taking. I went through the motions of getting dressed. I hung my towel up on the back of the bathroom door. I moved down the hallway, into my kitchen, opening the fridge to grab some yogurt. I could eat a real meal once I got to the restaurant. Right now I just needed to get out of the house before I ran back into my room, grabbed my gun and shot Filip… or myself. I didn't know who was making me crazier.

I finished up my yogurt, tossing the empty carton into the trash bin when Filip sauntered into the kitchen. I narrowed my eyes at him. He had a dirty grin plastered to his face. He was enjoying the frustration he was causing me. He moved over the fridge, standing beside me with his shoulder in my way. I stood up, knocking his shoulder with mine as I pushed past him. I snatched my purse and keys off the table and stormed out the front door.

Before it shut behind me I yelled, "Lock the door!"

He had better lock my damn door or there would be hell to pay when I got home. I hopped into my '65 Chevy Impala. At least I had an entire days' worth of work ahead of me. I had the chance to work through some of my frustrations before having to deal with the damn Scotsman again.


I pulled into my driveway, exhausted from my long day, to find three motorcycles in my driveway. I squinted, who the hell did he have over? It was my house dammit, not his fucking hotel! In an instant I was angry again, the progress I'd made be damned. I turned the ignition off, grabbed the large pot of gumbo I'd brought home with me and slammed the car door shut. I waddled up to the house, the pot was huge and very full. I struggled to open the front door. I had to balance my purse on top of the pot and tilt the pot ever so slightly to the right so that I could reach out and press down on the door handle. Finally after loudly struggling for a good three minutes I managed to push the door open. I stepped inside to find that no one had even bothered to get up and check who was at the door, never mind that that person may have needed help. I cursed under my breath, huffing loudly enough to gain the attention of the men in my living room. I ignored them and went to the kitchen, offloading the gumbo onto the stove. I tossed my purse across the room, not caring if it landed on the table or not. I heard the skid of my keys as they continued across the table after impact. I turned the stove on high. The gumbo was lukewarm and wouldn't be very appetizing if someone wanted to eat it right this second. I turned around to grab some bowls when I noticed the mess of my sink and counters. There were plates littered all over the counter, toppling over each other in the sink and beer bottles strewn across the island.

"FILIP!" I screamed.

I could hear the conversation in the living room cease and some movement occur.

I grumbled to myself as I tossed around the dishes, "Il faut que tu sois putain te moques de moi! [You've gotta be fucking kidding me!]"

Footsteps came into the kitchen and I heard his familiar burr, "Aye?"

I snapped my face up, fire burning in my eyes, "Do ya see this?"

"See what?" he raised an eyebrow.

"The mess of this kitchen! Are there even any clean dishes?" I yelled. He tried to hide his smile and I shouted again, "It's not fuckin' funny!"

He took a step forward, "Yes it is."

I saw Tig and Ortiz pop their heads around the kitchen entrance watching the two of us.

"I'm not yer fuckin' maid, Filip." I seethed.

He shrugged, "Seems to me like ya are."

I dropped my mouth open. Did he really just say what I think he said? I caught the cringe that Ortiz made and the incredulous look on Tig's face as he watched the exchange between us.

"Excusez-moi?!" I screamed.

"No comprende." He mocked.

My nostrils flared. I picked up the closest empty glass to my hand and flung it at his head. I made sure to miss on purpose, and it smashed into pieces upon hitting the wall next to him. The glass exploded and the tiny pieces of glass were strewn around my kitchen.

"Ya missed." He noted, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

I lunged forward at him, only to be intercepted by Tig who jumped between the two of us. Filip and I stared each other down, as Tig held my body still.

"Get out." I hissed.

Ortiz had inched into the room, staring wildly at the scene in front of him. Tig had heard what I advised the Scot to do.

Tig turned, "Come on brother. Let's go over to the clubhouse."

Once Tig's attention was away from me, I swung my arm around, my fist smashing into the side of the Scots face.

Tig groaned, "Oh fuck me…"

Both Ortiz and Tig jumped in, Ortiz grabbing me and Tig holding Filip back. Filip was yelling at me in another language, one that I'd never heard before. Tig was yelling over him to try to get him to calm down.

"Fuck ya!" I screamed around Ortiz, "Pack yer shit and get the fuck out of my house!"

I overcame Ortiz's hold on me and shoved Filip hard, my hands connecting with his chest. He stumbled backwards and Tig struggled to keep his hold on the man.

"Prospect!" Tig yelled, "A little help over here."

Ortiz straightened himself out and slid in front of me, blocking Filip's vision. Tig dragged the Scot out of the house, while Ortiz raced through all the rooms picking up the man's essentials. I gave Ortiz a full two minutes before I lost it again.

"Out! Get out!" I shrieked.

Ortiz shook, clearly terrified of me. He bolted out my front door. I slammed it shut, locking it in one smooth movement. I turned the TV in the living room off. I moved back into the kitchen, having lost my appetite, I turned the stove off and put the cover back on the pot of gumbo. I turned off all the lights behind me, slamming my bedroom door closed behind me and collapsing on my bed. I didn't bother getting undressed. I just laid completely still, on my bed revelling in the silence of my house. Good riddance, I thought to myself. I could sleep peacefully now, knowing that I no longer needed to take care of that ungrateful Scottish asshole.