A second later, her younger brother raced down the steps babbling, “Dad, did you know Jason Falco owns this building? Do you believe that? Jeez, I’m going to have to visit Merry every chance I get!”
She groaned. “You’d better not, pickle-head. And who’s Jason Falco, anyway?”
“You’re kidding!” he shouted. “You don’t know who Jason Falco is?”
Mr. MacKenzie folded his arms. “Calm down, Matt. It’s a fairly common name. It could be anybody. Come on, Merry. Get up.”
“Can’t… too tired.”
Some kind of secret signal passed between father and son. The next thing Merry knew, the couch tipped, and they unceremoniously dumped her onto the sidewalk.Oomph.
“Hey!” She scrambled to her feet while her brother continued chattering as if nothing had happened.
“It’s the lefty pitcher for the Boston Bullets! I swear. I was just talking to his aunt. Oh—she wants the door closed, by the way. It’s getting cold in there.” As if to illustrate the point, a chilly October breeze blew crisp, brown leaves around their feet.
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Merry admonished. “Do you want my neighbors to immediately hate me? Get on the other side of the couch with dad; I can’t lift another thing.”
Merry marched into her new apartment building, hoping to find the landlord’s aunt so she could apologize. No one seemed to be about, but she heard voices from the second floor. As her father and brother staggered and grunted through the front door under the weight of the leather sofa, a young man appeared at the top of the wide, curving staircase.
Long muscular legs in jeans and sneakers had come into view first. Then Merry saw his flat abdomen and broadshoulders under a navy blue knit jersey, and then finally his face.
“Whoa, let me help you with that.” He jogged down the steps and grasped the side of the couch her brother had left teetering.
Oh, my lord!What a handsome face it was. Dark, thick brows stood out against his light skin and clear blue eyes. She couldn’t identify his hair color easily, since it barely showed under a blue baseball cap. Maybe milk chocolate brown. Merry thought the style was called a buzz cut. The length nearly matched the brown whiskers of the five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw.
“Thanks, man.” Matt did a double take and grinned. “I can’t wait to set this couch down so I can shake your hand. Believe it or not, my sister’s moving into your building and didn’t even know who you were.”
The handsome hunk just laughed.
Merry put two and two together and decided this must be the famous Jason Falco.Not bad. Not bad at all.On the other hand, if her brother insisted on embarrassing her in front of her hottie landlord by pointing out what a baseball fan she wasn’t, she’d have to have a little “chat” with him before he left. A slap upside the head ought to do the trick.
She stepped back in order for the three men to pass her, as they carried the heavy piece of used furniture into her tiny living room.
Her father surveyed the polished hardwood floor already covered with boxes. “Where do you want this, honey?”
“Um… I’m not sure yet.”
“Well hurry up and decide before I get a hernia.”
“Sorry, Dad. Just put it down where you are. I’ll figure it out later.”
Her landlord straightened to a full six feet tall. “I can help her move things around once she knows where she wants them.” And then he winked at her.
Be still my heart!
So there her couch remained—in the middle of the living room.
Immediately, her brother stuck his hand out to the stranger. “It’s really great to meet you, Jason. Can I call you Jason? My dad and I are big fans. I hear you can throw a 97 mile-an-hour fastball. And man, your curveball and changeup? Incredible! Do you think I can get an autograph?”
Jason chuckled. “Thanks… uh, sure.” He sounded anything but sure as he regarded the taped boxes around the room. “Do you have a pen and paper handy?”
“Leave him alone, Matt. He’s obviously off the clock,” Merry muttered, not caring if her fan-boy brother collected his autograph or not.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, man. Hey, some other time…”
“Absolutely,” Jason said. He smiled broadly and to her relief, Merry thought he sounded genuine. Fine, then the pipsqueak wouldn’t hound her to obtain Jason’s DNA.The DNA that gave him those cute dimples…
“Well, I’ll leave you to get settled,” her father said. “C’mon, Matt, we’d better get going.” He thrust his hand toward Jason and said, “Thanks for your help. I’ll sleep better knowing my little girl is in good company.”
