On my drive home, I think about what I’m going to say to Autumn when I see her. I should apologize for being a complete d-bag when we first met, and I should definitely tell her I’m sorry for calling her weather girl. Although, I do think the nickname is cute.
Every thought I have right now is about Autumn as I head toward the elevator with a smile on my face. I’m curious what she’s going to have me do on our date, and I’ve concluded that I don’t care as long as she’s with me. Of course, the likelihood is I’ll have to do some menial tasks while she sits back and laughs at me. It’s okay. I deserve it.
I’m lost in thought when the elevator door opens back up and someone steps in. The only reason I look up is that there’s a very audible gasp. I glance at the person in front of me, and my smile fades because the first thing that comes to mind is that Autumn is stalking me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
I let out a small chuckle, mostly to curb my impending ire. “I live here, so what’s your excuse?”
Autumn’s mouth drops open and then closes quickly. “I live here as well. The fifth floor.”
Unbelievable.
“Penthouse.”
“I guess this makes us neighbors?” Before I can respond, the chime dings, and the number five illuminates. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Autumn says as she starts to step out. She pauses and looks over her shoulder.
“I’ll see you downstairs in the morning, Weather Girl,” I say with a wink.
Thirteen
Autumn
I’m trying not to focus on what my head is screaming while I get ready for my date with Julius. It took me a bit to come up with something I felt would be appropriate for him while getting some humor out of it. I thought about having him stand on the street corner, directing traffic with one of those signs for insurance, or having him dress up as a chicken and dance around Pioneer Square. Neither seemed clever enough for Mr. Cunningham. One thing I knew when I started planning was I wanted him to see me in a different light. He has such a preconceived notion about me that I’m hoping to change his mind.
Of course, there is the slight issue of him winking at me yesterday when I stepped off the elevator. I have no idea what possessed me to turn and look at him, but I did, and wow! Just freaking wow. There is no mistaking the fact that Julius Cunningham is a fine-looking man. No, he’s better than fine. Some would say he’s handsome or good-looking, while others—me being in the “others” group—would say he’s smoking hot with a side of gorgeous. As much as I hate to admit this, I find the man incredibly attractive. More so since I met his daughter. The way he was with her, I never expected the man I met weeks ago could be so gentle. It was like he was a completely different person with her. But then again, he called me weather girl, so his use of this nickname negates any personality change.
I stand in front of the mirror, turning from side to side. I opted for the casual look today, with jeans, a T-shirt, and a sweater. I never gave the Pioneers office any instructions on what Julius should wear, just that he needs to meet me in front of my . . . our apartment complex. I step closer to the mirror and shake my head. What are the chances that the man who had been a thorn in my side since I moved to Portland would live above me? Granted, he’s way above me, but that’s to be expected. With one last look in the mirror, I grab my things and head toward the elevator. As soon as I step out into the hallway, I find myself looking in both directions, half expecting Julius to be coming toward me or even lurking around the corner. Would he do something like this? It’s unlikely, although he does seem a bit childish at times.
My nerves are on edge by the time I step out of the elevator. I scan the lobby and even peek inside the restaurant for any sign of Julius. I requested he meet me outside, but again, I find myself second-guessing whether he will follow the rules or not. And even though he said he’d see me today doesn’t mean he will show up. He was pretty adamant about paying me back for the money I spent on winning him.
When I step outside, I use my hand to shield the sun. Across from the entrance to my building, a man stands. He’s dressed in khaki pants, a white dress shirt, and has a dark-colored jacket or sweater in his hand. I swallow hard at the hulking form coming toward me. It doesn’t take long for me to recognize Julius, and with each step he takes, I start to see him in a different light.