Page 4 of No Headlines Please

Finally, he spoke – a single word in a calm, steady voice. "Where?"

"Where, what?"

"Where would I send the bill?"

"Oh." Where indeed. The answer should've been easy. But the truth was, I'd just given up my cozy apartment near the beach and put all my stuff into storage. After months of feeling like I was being watched, I'd finally bolted like a total coward.

I wasn't even sure where I would end up. But I was sure that if I didn't stop by my sister's place to explain, I'd feel even more awful than I had last summer, when I'd dropped off the family radar.

Mister Tall, Dark and Expensive said, "Oh, what?"

I blinked. "Sorry?"

"So…your address has only one digit?"

Was that a joke? I couldn't even tell, but I seriously doubted it, because for one thing, I saw no trace of humor in his dark, compelling eyes. "Actually…that 'oh' wasn't a zero."

His eyebrows lifted barely a fraction, but he said nothing in reply.

So naturally I started rambling. "It was an 'oh', as in…'Oh, I don't know my address.'"

Great. Now I sounded like a moron.

He gave me a skeptical look. "Is that so?"

Feeling just a little defensive, I told him, "Hey, I'm in the process of moving."

"And you don't know where?"

"I never said that." And yet, somehow he'd known. Or more likely, he thought I was trying to weasel my way out of paying.

This wasn't true. And for some reason, it suddenly seemed very important that he know this. I glanced toward the elevators before blurting out, "I know. You can send the bill to my sister's place."

His only reply was a long, penetrating look that made me wish the hydrangea were ten times the size so I could hide like a peeper in the bushes.

Yeah, right.

Like I could carry a plant that big.

Even the modest-size one was feeling stupidly heavy. Twenty-some blocks ago, the weight had been nothing.

Now, it felt like a potted bowling ball, which really sucked because bowling was supposed to be fun.

This wasn't.

I was sweaty, tired, and a total mess, which made what happened next all the more confusing.

He glanced down at his soiled shirt – and then at me. "Forget the bill."

Relief hit first, quickly followed by a wave of guilt. "Really?" I hesitated. "But shouldn't I do something to make up for it?"

"Yes, actually."

The answer caught me off guard. "So…like what?"

His expression didn't change. "Buy me a coffee."

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