“Then it seems I’m in the right place. The letter is addressed to Indie Peterson. You have a really unique name,” I note, as my lips tilt into a crooked smile.
She grins in return, her nose scrunching in the cutest way possible.
“I know.” She rolls her eyes. “Supposedly, the nurses all commented on my unique eyes and the name stuck. Thankfully, my parents didn’t actually go with Indigo, just Indie.” She wipes her hand across her forehead dramatically. “Phew!”
I chuckle. “I like it. Reminds me of Indiana Jones, which was my favorite movie growing up.”
“No way! Me too! I ate ravioli one summer during the monkey brains scene in Temple of Doom, and now I gag every time I think about it.” She proves this firsthand by literally gagging.
Booming laughter escapes me.
“Remind me to never take you out for ravioli,” I tease, and a light
blush spreads across her cheeks.
Brusquely, I clear my throat and pretend as if I didn’t just imply that I’d be taking her out. “I’m Rhett, by the way. Rhett Jacobs.”
“Nice to meet you,” she responds shyly before peeking up at me through her thick, blonde lashes.
Not knowing what else to do or say, I hold out the envelope, which she takes with a grateful smile.
I slide my empty hands into my front pockets and rock back on my heels. I know I should probably head home, but the girl in front of me is the most interesting thing I’ve found in this city so far. I’m not quite ready to leave her yet.
“So what brings you to New York, Rhett Jacobs?” she asks. Her fingers fiddle with the letter as she looks at me.
“Work,” I answer simply. I don’t usually go into detail about what I do. Women’s eyes glaze over almost immediately any time I try.
She grins. “Care to expand on that?”
I shrug. “Not much to tell. I’m somewhere between an investment banker and a recruiter. I search out companies that have a low risk of failing and help them expand their business while hooking them up with investors and making sure they have the funds to succeed.”
“Really? That’s fascinating!”
“Thanks,” I reply, surprised that she looks intrigued instead of bored out of her mind. “What do you do?” My posture is relaxed as I lean against the doorframe.
“I own a bakery, which was why it took me so long to open the door. I turn into a pumpkin earlier than most since I have to be up at three in the morning to get the croissants into the oven.”
“Now that’s fascinating! How long have you been doing that?”
“For as long as I can remember. I started baking when I was little and would visit my grandma every weekend. I fell in love almost immediately. You know Ratatouille? I’m Remy.” She points to her chest proudly, while my brows furrow. I have no clue what she’s talking about.
“Rata-what?”
Her jaw drops in pure shock. “For real? You’ve never seen Ratatouille? The Disney movie? About a rat that loves to cook and works in a French restaurant? And follows his dreams?” She peppers me with questions, and her face is so animated I could pop some popcorn and watch her for hours. Indie’s brows are pinched. Her arms are crossed over her chest as if she’s ashamed to call me a neighbor because I don’t know about a rat that likes to . . . cook?
She’s beautiful when she’s passionate, though. Even if what she’s saying is going in one ear and out the other.
“Apparently, I need to watch it,” I concede with a giant grin plastered on my face.
“Damn right, you do!” she agrees wholeheartedly, accepting my surrender.
Leaning forward, she whispers, “I happen to have it on Blu-ray. Do you want me to loan it to you?” From the devious gleam in her eyes, you’d think she was slipping me a bag of weed instead of offering a children’s cartoon.
“Why don’t we make a date out of it? I’ll bring over something that isn’t ravioli, and you can introduce me to this rat chef. How does tomorrow sound?”
I know I’ve crossed a line when Indie’s face falls. “Oh . . . um . . . I can’t.” Indie’s eyes are suddenly very interested in her freshly painted toenails as she shifts from one foot to the other.
Her dismissal catches me off guard. I’m usually very observant and can read a situation perfectly, so how did I read her so wrong?