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“Noon.” I do some mental math. That means she won’t be at my place until after one. It shouldn’t take more than an hour to clean the kitchen … another half-hour to tidy the clutter. A quick wipe down in the bathroom … she should be done and on her way before Stirling arrives at 3:30.
The last thing I need is to have her chatting him up and trying to entertain him with stories about my misspent youth.
CHAPTER8
Stirling
It was a bit of a jackass move to arrive at Magdalena’s place half-an-hour early, but the grocery shopping didn’t take as long as I’d expected and I saw no reason to hang around the lobby of her building just to kill time when I could have been whipping up her clam concoction.
I buzz her number and am surprised at how quickly she answers.
“Hello?”
“Hey. It’s Stirling.”
“Stirling,” she repeats.
“Yeah … with the makings of your seafood smoothie.”
“That’s so nice. Third floor, turn left out of the elevator.”
She’s acting weird. But then, so did my sisters when they were packing progeny.
I’m glad to be alone in the elevator—and that it has a mirror. I scowl at myself, then give my reflection a big smile.
“Hi. Nice to see you,” I say to the air.
Then my rational side takes over. “Really?” I say out loud.
As if a woman who made a conscious decision to raise a child on her own would be interested in starting to date weeks before she’s about to have twins.
What am I thinking, being attracted to her? It’s insanity. Too long on my own, that’s what it is.
I add, “create a dating profile” to my mental checklist of things I have to get back to, to beat the funk I’ve fallen into. From a lifetime of workaholism to literally nothing to do … boredom is going to kill me faster than another heart attack ever would.
I step into a brightly lit hallway. The building is as spectacular on the inside as from the street. I turn left and find Mags’ suite at the end of the short hall. The door pulls open before I have a chance to knock.
“Well, hello, Mr. Stirling.”
“It’s, uh, just Stirling. This is Magdalena’s place, right?” I ask the woman, who is all smiles.
“Sure is. She’s just in the shower.” The woman, who bears a striking resemblance to Magdalena, reaches for the bag of groceries I have pressed to my chest.
I hand it to her, then bend to untie my runners.
She waves for me to stop. “Oh, you don’t have to stay. I can handle it. Thanks so much for bringing this to her. That’s very kind of you.”
Well, shit, that’s not how I expected this to go. I’d been looking forward to recreating the drink that drove Magdalena to moan in ecstasy. It’s been too long since I’ve drawn that sound from a woman, and doing it with my culinary capabilities was almost as rewarding as hearing it while I worked my other talents. Almost.
“Actually, I was expecting … hoping to make it for her.”
Magdalena’s voice carries from the right side of the suite. “Who are you talking to?”
I call back, “Hey, Mags! I hope it’s okay that I’m a little early.”
“Stirling? Oh my god, you’re here?”
The panic in her voice makes me chuckle.
