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He pulled her door open. “If you can take two bags, I think we should be able to do this in one trip.”
“That works.” She swung her legs out, trying not to flinch at the twinge in her hip and knee. A long, hot bath later would be bliss.
Marc handed over the two plastic sacks dangling from the fingers of one hand. “I’ll get the rest.” He swiveled away and returned to the trunk.
She started for the door, but he caught up with her as she set one of the bags down on her small porch and fitted her key in the lock. “Give me a minute to shut off the security system.”
“Okay. I’ll wait here.”
She let herself in and hurried to the door in the small laundry room that led to her garage, the command in her mind keeping beat with the rhythmicbeep,beep,beepof the security system.
Decide, decide, decide.
From a pure politeness perspective, she should ask him to stay. Despite spending a long day at a dirty fire scene and dodging bullets, the man had volunteered to give her a lift home. He’d also gone above and beyond this week as she’d tried to cope with the other disasters that had beset her.
The least she could do was feed him dinner as a thank-you—and perhaps share a few bits and pieces about her past.
She punched in the code, and the house went silent save for the sudden, erratic thump in her chest that pulsed in her ears with an almost audible throb.
“All clear?” Marc’s voice echoed from the front door.
“Yes.” She wiped her palms down her jeans. “Come on in.”
When he didn’t join her after half a minute, she retraced her steps and found him waiting inside the front door.
“Would you like me to take these into the kitchen for you?” He hefted the plastic sacks.
He was asking permission to venture past her threshold.
And no wonder. From the day they met, she’d been prickly and stand-offish, setting clear boundaries and sending loud keep-your-distance signals.
If she wanted to open the door to more than her house, she’d have to spell it out.
“Yes, thanks. It’s in the back.” She moved aside, following him after she shut and bolted the door.
“Where would you like them?”
“The counter is fine.” She nodded toward the expanse beside the stove as they entered the kitchen.
He deposited the sacks and gave the room a once-over.
She did the same, trying to see the space through his eyes.
Verdict? Bland and boring.
“Kind of bare bones, I know.” She forced up the corners of her mouth. “I have to admit I’ve never devoted much effort to embellishing my digs. With the long hours I’ve always spent at work, decorating has never been a priority.”
“Same here. I lived in my condo in Chicago for ten years, and it was as impersonal the day I moved out as it was the day I moved in. My living space was never top of mind. Another priority I want to shift once Nan is on her feet and I find a place of my own.” He pulled out his keys. “Well ...”
Bri’s pulse picked up.
It was now or never.
She straightened a chair at the small café table that held her laptop. “I expect you have to get back to your grandmother”—at the breathless chop in her words, she forced herself to inhale—“but if you’re hungry, there’s a neighborhood spot a couple blocks away that has terrific pizza. They deliver.”
Dead silence.
She risked a peek at him and caught the surprise on his face giving way to a slow grin.
