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“Oak Park.”
“That’s where Molly lives.”
“Mm-hm. Text me the address of your shop? I’ll help you unload your equipment.”
Should I tell him it’s not necessary? I don’t want to. I’d like to see him. “West Thirty-Second Street. Right across the street from the First Lutheran Church of the Trinity.”
“You need a ride?”
“No.” If Molly were here right this second, she’d tell me to go for it. “On second thought. That’d be great.”
“Be there in twenty minutes.”
“Great. Thank you.”
I quickly shoot a text off to Molly. I’m not about to show up with Garrett and not warn her. Finished with the text, I set it down and look down at myself. Thinking I was only meeting Molly this morning, I put on a pair of old jeans with holes in the knees and a Notre Dame sweatshirt that used to belong to my grandpa. Not only didn’t I dress up, I neglected to put on any makeup or do my hair. Rushing back into the bathroom, I decide my hair is going to have stay put, but the rest can change. Not too much, though. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.
I quickly brush mascara over my lashes, swipe on some pale pink eye shadow, and search my makeup bin for lip gloss. With that in my jeans pocket, I race to my tiny closet. I’m keeping the jeans on, but I think I can find something better for the top. A slouchy sweater instead of the old sweatshirt with holes under the arms. I spot a dark green one I’ve only worn a few times. I don’t know why, though, because it’s soft as heck. Whipping off the sweatshirt, I toss it onto the bed and slip the sweater over my head. It’s extra-large, even on me, but it feels good against my skin. It's perfect for a Sunday breakfast date.
Except this isn’t a date.
He’s investigating—me. I guess.
“No, Lucy.” I shake my head. “Don’t think negatively.”
When I hear a knock on my door a few minutes later, I’m startled. “Who is it?”
“Garrett.” My goodness, I didn’t realize how deep his voice was. I guess I was so focused on everything else, his voice hadn’t registered. It does this morning, though.
Pulling open the door, my mouth nearly falls to the floor because gone is Detective Whelan, the one in the old suit. No, he’s long gone. In his place is Garrett wearing a gray sweater that hugs his muscled arms perfectly. I can also tell he’s got a broad chest and a flat stomach. As discreetly as possible, I also can’t help noticing his jeans. They fit him like a glove. His legs are long and thick. My goodness, this man is gorgeous from head to toe. Speaking of toes, he’s wearing sneakers, and for some reason, the sight of Garrett Whelan in sneakers gives me a chill. The good kind.
I finally get my wits about me. “Oh, um, would you like to come in?”
“Sure.” He’s so tall, he has to duck a little to get through my front door. My apartment is small, yes, but it’s just the right size for me. But the second this man steps in, it suddenly feels like there’s no room for anything but us.
It’s making my head spin. “Uh, um, I need to get my shoes on. Have a seat.” I point to the couch that used to sit in my grandma’s front room. Her parlor. It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was hers, so I love it.
“Thanks.”
“I’d offer you something to drink, but—”
“You haven’t had time to go to the store.”
He remembered. “Right.” I laugh as I start the search for my own tennis shoes. I know I wore them a couple of days ago.
“We can stop at the store on the way home.” He clears his throat. “I mean, on the way back.”
“Oh, that isn’t necessary.”
“I don’t mind. I could pick up a few things myself.”
What’s going on here? He wants to go grocery shopping with me? That seems so domestic. And right.
“Okay.” I spot a shoelace peeking out from underneath my bed. Getting down onto the floor, I lower my upper body down enough so I can reach the stupid shoe.
I’m partly beneath my bed when I hear, “Jesus.”
It surprises me, making me jerk my head up, suddenly. So suddenly, in fact, I hit my head on my bed frame. “Ouch,” I say, rubbing my palm on the top of my head.
