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**Walker**
“Hi, Walker!” Suzanne, my allergic to boundaries neighbor, hollers when she sees me. I swear sometimes she watches my house in order to pounce on me.
“Hi, Suzanne,” I respond, lacking any of the interest and invitation hers has.
“It’s Suzie,” she stresses, as she always does, when I continually refuse to call her by that nickname. It implies a connection that is not there, no matter how much she wishes otherwise. When I don’t change it, she asks, “Where you off to?”
“My fiancée is moving in with me.” It’s not the none of your damn business that I want to answer with. Fine, it is, just phrased differently. On that note, and with the hope I’ve finally found the way to get through to her that I don’t reciprocate her attraction to me, I grin as I get behind the wheel.
Perhaps saying what I did, while not currently true I do intend for it to be, might have hurt her feelings. Which I feel a smidge guilty about, but it was a necessary last resort. Once Zoe is here, I can’t take the risk Suzanne will cause any issues. I don’t want, can’t have, Zoe getting the wrong idea from Suzanne’s delusions.
At a stop sign two blocks from Zoe, I take a second to message her.
Me: Prince Charming is five minutes out.
Fairy Tale: I thought you were coming?
This woman.
Me:For that insolence, you’ll be subjected to torture on the way to my house.
A credible threat as I know her vehicle has been giving her troubles and I finally convinced her to take it to the shop, so I’ll use this opportunity to suggest we do so now.
Fairy Tale: You wouldn’t.
Me: Getting my Rush playlist ready.
She confessed, during one of our many conversations, that she is not a fan of the group. As I grew up on them, my dad being a Rusher, as he refers to himself, I warned her it was a deal breaker.
Thankfully, she took my jest as just that and laughed.
Fairy Tale: Our baby is a genius. She talked.
Curious where she’s going with this, I play along.
Me: Was it to say how awesome she knows her daddy is?
Fairy Tale: I just snorted. I distinctly heard her declare that Rush is overrated.
A point to Zoe.
Me: I’m here, sassy pants.
Fairy Tale: Yay.
Zoe opens the door for me, though she doesn’t throw herself at me this time. I’m disappointed, yet equally happy she’s notupset. Considering she’s essentially being kicked out of her home, and temporarily – or so she thinks – living with a man she’s known for a week.
Of course, we have fit a lot of getting to know each other in that time.
“I am at your service,” I promise, putting my arm at my waist and bowing.
“You’re so PC.” That has me raising a brow when I’m upright again. “Prince Charming,” she explains with a grin.
Giving her a wink, I ask, “Any news on the heat?”
“It boils down to expensive and time consuming.”
I try not to gloat, not wanting to spill how gleeful that makes me. It’s wrong to be thrilled right now. So, I’ll keep it in until after she’s settled in my home and she can’t see, meaning I can’t get in trouble, my grin.
