"Didn't mean to startle you. I tried to ask before you closed the door. Do you need a cab?"
I answer without thinking, “No, I need to do a few things, and then I'll walk." As soon as I say it, I roll my lips together. Why am I telling him this? You can’t just tell a stranger, a man at that, that you plan to walk home alone at night.
"It's getting dark," He says like it isn't obvious.
"I can see that," I smile.
He looks torn, "I could wait and walk with you?" The way he phrases it, makes the statement into a question, making him seem both sweet and a little shy.
"Ah sure, I guess," I say leaning back from the door to let him in. I lock up again, grabbing the cookery, and taking it to the lounge. He follows behind me.
Beau sweeps the hat off his head and looks around like he's getting his first real look at the place, which I guess he is. With that hat pulled so low he couldn't have been able to see much. I try not to look in his direction for fear of staring. That must be the reason why he wears it, if women react so strongly to him without even seeing his entire face. The brief gaze I am afforded reminds me of being knocked dumb at the grocers last time we met. His face for any length of time would probably cause lasting fits of stupidity.
"You own this place?" He questions sounding awed.
"I do," I answer proudly.
"God, it's great. It's like a time capsule. They just don't make buildings like this anymore.” He comments, then asks, “Was it handed down from family?" He seems truly curious.
"No, not so much.” I stutter trying to explain, “Mr. B is like family. I met him when I was sixteen. I used to come here almost every day after school." I smile fondly at the memories as I run water in the pot. I'll wash it tomorrow. "He got so used to seeing me, he put me to work." I shrug, "Then I just never left." It’s a greatly simplified version of the story, but essentially that's what happened.
"I can tell how much you love it. It shows."
"Thank you," I accept the compliment easily. We're both quiet as I collect my purse from my office. I don’t feel nervous being alone in the store with him, which is unusual. I haven't given myself the chance to be alone with a man in a very long time. Maybe I'm getting past my distrust of unfamiliar men. Truly, only one man earned my abhorrence, so I shouldn't fear them all.
"Would you mind stepping out so I can set the alarm?" He nods, drops his hat back over his eyes, and waits just outside the door.
When I reach up to pull the metal gate down further protecting the store, he anticipates my move, and tugs it down for me. I thank him again and engage the lock.
"Well I'm this way too," I say feeling a bit shy.
The scuff of our shoes is the only sound for the first block. He shoves his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans and hunches his shoulders up a bit. I watch him as his head tilts following the heavy traffic of cars that still line the streets.
“Have you always lived here?” he asks.
“No, I actually grew up in the South. How about you? City or county boy?”
He looks over at me, his smile reaching his eyes, “A bit of both really. I’ve been living in California since I got out of school, before that, Nevada.”
“What brings you to New York?”
My question has him glancing over at me. His lips purse, but his expression ends with a grin returning to his features.
“Just needed a break.” He fires back with, “How long have you been here?” He doesn’t seem to want to talk about why he’s here.
I’m surprisingly still at ease as we continue to talk. He throws questions at me about the city, the stores, and the neighborhood as we walk past.
Almost too quickly, we’re at my door. I stop and gesture to the door, "This is me."
He looks at the door and nods. Before things can get awkward, I thank him and unlock the door, closing it behind me quickly. I dash up the stairs, not stopping to check my surroundings or the mailbox. It's another first for me, but this time it’s because I’m caught up in the moment and not because of my over vigilance. I tell myself that's why I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
