So I’m a little meaner than I need to be. “Trust me; I have no interest in your bed.”
Her eyebrows rise slightly, which I expect, but she looks a little wounded, which I do not.
Well, shit, now I feel kinda bad.
“Okay. Well, I wasn’t inviting you into my bed, but… Thanks for your help.”
I sigh to myself, feeling a little guilty, but it’s better if she thinks I’m a dick. Obviously she’s just a friendly person—Gus is pushing 80 and she hangs out with him all the time—but I don’t really do friendly. If she thinks I’m an asshole, maybe she’ll leave me alone.
I keep my back to her until I hear my door click shut, then I glance back to make sure she left. She’s gone but she didn’t lock my door, so I go over and flip the one on the knob, then the deadbolt.
Not that it matters. If Adrian wants inside this apartment, no lock is going to keep him out.
Chapter Two
Vince
Someone is knocking on my door again.
There’s only one person who knocks on my door, so I know before I open it I’m going to see Carly’s unshakably cheerful face. First it was “I locked myself out of the house again.” Then it was “Hey MacGyver, do you know how to light a pilot light? I’m turning into a Carly-sicle over here.”
Swinging the door open, before I can even see her, I ask, “What is it this time? Can’t get the lid off your pickle jar, or your cat’s stuck in a tree?”
“Happy Thanksgiving!” Her smile brightens and she shoves a wicker basket at me. “I don’t need anything from you this time, I brought you something.”
I do not take the basket, but my gaze drops to it anyway. There are cellophane treat bags filled with cookies and tied with red and brown ribbons nestled around a bottle of Wild Turkey with “turkey feathers” attached to the back. She made a turkey’s head out of brown felt to go over the cap, complete with googly eyes and a red felt snood.
“Get it? Wild Turkey?” She snickers, impressed with her own cleverness.
I pluck the whiskey out of the basket. “I’ll take that, actually.”
“No, you have to take the whole thing.” She snatches the alcohol right out of my hand and pushes it back into the basket, rearranging the cookies around it like it’s preparing for its first photo shoot. She furrows her brow and gives me a look of mild annoyance. “What are you, a savage? I made you an alcohol bird and cookies. Three different kinds of cookies. Here, take the damn basket.”
I don’t want the basket, but I take it anyway. I’m just about to say thank you, but I’m distracted by her pulling her cell phone from her pocket and holding it up, aimed at me like she’s taking a picture. “Say cheese.”
“Don’t take my picture.”
She does anyway. Checking the result on the screen, she shrugs. “Well, you don’t look happy, but you kind of have the whole broody thing going for you, so I guess this works.”
“Why did you just take my picture?”
She swipes her finger across the screen and holds it up to show me a picture of Gus accepting his turkey basket and being much more gracious about it. “See? This is what normal neighbors look like when you bring them treats.” She swipes to the picture she just took of me. I’m basically scowling at her. “Wanna try again?”
“Delete that,” I tell her, reaching forward to grab the door so I can shut it in her face.
She plants her hip against the door to stop me and cocks her head to the side. “You’re really not going to say happy Thanksgiving? I bring you a nice basket and you can’t even wish me a happy holiday?”
“I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving. Thanks for the alcohol, though.”
Carly slides her cell phone back into her pocket. “I should’ve recorded this whole interaction so Laurel would believe me. I’ve told her about you and she is super skeptical. ‘No one is that much of an asshole for no reason, Carly, what did you do to him?’” Carly shrugs, eyebrows rising. “Apparently I wronged you in a former life or something.”
“You did,” I deadpan.
“Did I murder you? I’ve always felt like I probably murdered someone in a former life.”
I laugh shortly. “You did, actually. We dated. You fucked another guy. He killed me so he could keep you for himself. Now I don’t like you.”
Cocking her head like she’s conceding that point, she grimaces and says, “Wow, I was a super bitch in my former life. I should’ve brought more alcohol. Sorry about that.”
I crack a smile. “Who’s Laurel?”
“My little sister. I’m going home to spend Thanksgiving with her, that’s why I’m a few days early with the basket. I also wasn’t sure if you would be here for it. I know Gus is going to visit his daughter and granddaughter in Wisconsin.”