“That’s okay, ma’am. You are Steffanie Price, right?”
“I’m in the middle of something. Please leave the box in the lobby.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that. I need to hand it to you.” He sounded affable enough, but his voice had lost a bit of the cheeriness it had seconds ago.
How did she get around this?
The last thing she wanted was for a delivery guy to come up to her apartment. Nor did she want to go down and meet him. Never before had she had a delivery person be a stickler for protocols. Most were happy to dump it and run as they usually had a full truck of items, and any time they could catch up on their delivery schedule, they were happy to.
Her buzzer sounded a third time. “I’m thinking,” she said, getting irritated at the guy.
“Steff, it’s me Ja-Dalton. I grabbed that delivery for you. Hope that’s okay.”
“Oh my god, yes. Thank you.” She immediately buzzed him in, her heart pounding against her ribs. She wasn’t going to gointo a panic attack, but the fear had been real. Thank goodness Dalton had turned up and was able to help her out, and she didn’t have to let a total stranger up.
Although the guy said he had to hand it to her, why had he been happy to give it to Dalton?
What did it matter how or why, the problem had been solved, and she hadn’t had to leave her apartment. She’d find out what was in the package when Dalton arrived.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at her door and a muffled,“It’s Jag.”She smiled that he’d used his nickname and not his first name like he had when he’d buzzed her apartment.
She supposed it was confusing for him with her calling him Dalton and all his friends calling him Jag. Steff made a mental note to ask him what he preferred, and she’d call him that. All her life she’d been Steff, even though her full name was Steffanie. Her parents had never called her Steffanie, they’d always used Steff, and she never asked them why.
She’d never find out now, and it didn’t matter.
Steff hurried over to the door and pulled it open. Dalton stood holding a big box, along with a plastic bag containing two bottles of wine hanging from two of his fingers. “Goodness, let me help you.”
She went to reach for the box, but Dalton lifted it a fraction. “It’s good, I’ve got it. It’s not that heavy.”
“Okay. Come in.” She stepped to the side to allow him to pass.
As he went past, she caught a whiff of his fresh pine scent. It reminded her of the aspens in Colardo when she’d gone skiing one year with friends from college. It had been a fun trip, and at a time when life had consisted of studying and partying without a care in the world.
Life had been easier then, but then tragedy had struck and her parents had died, and the realities of how hard life could beset in. If only she’d known at the time that her parents’ deaths weren’t even the hardest thing she’d ever endure.
“Something smells good.” Dalton placed the box on her coffee table and sniffed the air. “Which one of Astrid’s delights are you making?”
“Her Shephard’s Pie.”
Dalton groaned. “Oh yum, my favorite.”
Steff laughed. “I thought her stuffed mushrooms were your favorite.” She had thought about making them, but she didn’t want to do it wrong and then spoil them for Dalton. So, she’d stuck with the pie. It wasn’t complicated to make.
“I think you’ll find out, the more we hang out together, that everything is my favorite.”
“You don’t have one favorite thing at all?” Did she have a favorite food or drink? She loved Coke and chocolate. They definitely were hers.
“Why settle for one when you can have many?” He came up to her and placed a kiss on her cheek. The action spontaneous, and her skin tingled from the brief touch.
It was also the first time he’d done it without silently asking for her permission, and she was okay with that. She was glad. She didn’t want him to feel like he had to always ask.
Steff understood why he was doing it, and she loved him for it. But in her mind, it wasn’t necessary anymore, as they weren’t strangers now. How could they be after what he’d done for her?
“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.” She glanced at the box sitting on the table. It was a generic brown box. Nothing out of the ordinary. Yet she was still apprehensive about opening it, particularly as there were no markings of the company where it had come from.
“Do you want to open it?” Dalton asked, following the line of her gaze.
“We’ll eat first. Dinner was almost ready when they buzzed me about it. I’m assuming it was the postal service that delivered it?”
