As I hung up the phone, someone knocked at my front door. Mrs. Welby must have discovered the wet trail that started on the stairs and led straight to my door.
I groaned. “Will this damn day never end?”
If 5B was coming to yell at me about wet carpeting, she was going to see me half-naked while she did so. I pulled open the front door.
Well, hell. Now the universe was just playing games with me, serving up a tasty dish on a very beautiful platter because standing right in front of me was the aforementioned sexy redhead who lived next door. Her hair hung loose down her back, and her eyes looked even bluer with the soft, same-colored sweater that perfectly hugged her curves. I did my best to glance and not stare. I noticed she was holding a bottle of wine. I considered it a win that I’d noticed anything beyond how beautiful she looked. If I played my cards right, maybe I could convince her to share that wine with me.
No, no, I would not.
Then I realized she was looking down at my towel slung low over my hips. Her gaze moved up over my naked torso. Shit. It was too late now to pretend I hadn’t yanked open the door while half-naked. I had to own my choice. I leaned against the doorjamb, cool, casual, and collected.
“Hey, 6B. Can I help you?” I nodded toward the wine bottle. “Do you need an opener?”
“Uh… I just realized about ten seconds ago that I do, in fact, need one. But I really stopped by to invite you over to share this.”
Damn you, universe, because that was just mean. Then again, it was just a glass of wine. It’s not like she was the one standing there in a towel. She glanced down at my chest again, and I didn’t half-mind her interest. She looked back up and held my gaze, almost not blinking, fighting not to look down again. At least, I hoped she was having trouble keeping her eyes on my face.
Yeah, this was a terrible idea. “Sounds great,” I said anyway because sometimes I think with the wrong head. “Maybe I should put on some clothes first. Give me fifteen minutes? And I’ll bring a corkscrew.”
She licked her lower lip. I scooted myself behind the door to hide my reaction to that.
“Good idea,” she said. She pointed to her front door. “I’d better get back before Mr. Whiskerbottom Fuzzypants reaches his separation limit. He’s up to about five minutes with me outside the apartment before he screams.”
“Progress.”
She cleared her throat. “Yes. Well, see you in fifteen.”
I groaned as I closed the door. I rushed through dressing but chose a pair of faded jeans and a forest green sweater combo that always earned me second looks from women when I wore it to run errands. Not that I was trying to impress my new neighbor. But I wouldn’t mind seeing that lower lip lick thing of hers again. Just for fun.But notthatkind of fun, I reminded myself. Innocent fun because I liked where I lived, and I would not ruin it.
I stopped in the kitchen to grab a corkscrew. I had a few of them, so I chose the best one. Then I rummaged through my snack cupboard. I picked out one unopened package of pretzels and another of cashews, then a bar of fair trade dark chocolate, as well, in case she had a dessert wine. I’d been too distracted by the sexy redhead at my door giving me the once-over to notice the wine varietal.
I knocked on her front door twelve minutes after she’d left mine. I held out the canvas bag to her. “Welcome to the building.”
She gave me another long look, this time more discreetly, and did her tell again with her plump lower lip. I appreciated the approval. This time I was prepared for it and was running Knicks stats from last year through my head—the thinking one—to keep the other one from embarrassing me.
She eyed the bag suspiciously, then took it from me as she stepped aside to allow me in the door. Her apartment had the same open floor plan as mine, with the kitchen immediately to the right upon entering. The square footprint of the kitchen was delineated on the side closest to the door by a pony wall, which also provided extra counter space. She had four counter stools along the low wall, the same as I did at my place. Beyond that, there was a dining area along the right back wall, and a large living room took up the rest of the visible space. To the right was a hallway that led to the master bedroom and bathroom, and to the left, a shorter corridor led to a smaller guest bedroom and a second full bath.
There were differences in our spaces, though.
“Your apartment is very…white.”
“Actually, it’s eggshell. The former owner sold me all her furniture and rugs because she was moving to her furnished beach house in Florida.” She set the canvas bag on the counter beside the fridge.
“Avery did say she was only taking her clothes and jewelry with her.” I pointed to the bag. “Wine opener and snacks. You can keep both.”
“Thank you. That’s so kind. You’re very kind.” She cleared her throat and rummaged through the bag. “Does the board provide a welcome gift to everyone who moves in?”
“No, but that’s not a bad idea.” I made a mental note to bring it up at the next board meeting. Mrs. Welby would hate it because she hated new owners. She also hated old owners, so at least she was fair-minded about her disdain.
Six B pulled out the snack bags and took down some bowls from a cupboard. The dishes were also cream-colored. Or eggshell. Or whatever the appropriate designer term was for that particular shade of off-white.
“The opener and snacks are perfect because I don’t have either,” she told me as she poured pretzels into one bowl and cashews into another. “Our grocery store trip yesterday was a little fraught. At least I remembered to buy wine.”
“Sorry to hear that. Did you get everything your little guest needs?”
“And then some.”
She pulled the foil off the wine as she spoke and made quick work of inserting the corkscrew and uncorking the bottle. The woman had skills. Good with her hands. Not that I should be noticing.
