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I laughed, only a little embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“When are you going to bite the bullet and talk to him?”
I sighed. “Never.”
“Oh, come on, Miranda. He could probably use a friend. He’s new to the building and always alone.” She paused for a moment. “And you like him,” she finished in a singsong voice.
I didn’t tell her that liking him was an understatement. I liked chocolate. Good beer. The beach. A fantastic romance novel. This man looked like he’d walked right out of one of the military romances I edited for a living. He was everything a girl could want; stoic, hard, possibly damaged, and sexy as sin. Iwasobsessed. I had spent too many nights imagining him over me. Under me. In me. With my hand between my legs, my eyes pinched tightly closed, the image of what he might look like underneath his clothes burned into the back of my eyelids.
I watched him disappear into the lower level of our building and frowned. Boo. Hiss. I heard the thunder of him making his way up the steps and opening the door across from mine. His front door. Yes, only a wall stood between me and my dream man.
I raced to my front door and pressed my eye to the peephole. Never had the name for that hole been truer. Because I was definitely peeping. I watched him unlock his front door. Sweat rolled down his neck and underneath the collar of his white tee. And, man, I wanted a taste of that sweat. Lucky shirt. He pushed the door open and inside he went. I sagged against my own front door, my hand pressed over my thundering heart.
I walked to the bathroom, the phone still to my ear, and looked in the mirror. “You’ve seen him, Ains. He’s outta my league.”
She’d spent a few mornings checking him out for herself. And even though she was engaged to my other best friend, Adrian, she’d seen nameless man in all his glory. Needless to say, she all kinds of appreciated it.
But I was me. And he was magnificent. And therein lay the problem. Don’t get me wrong. I knew I was cute, even if slightly plump. But I was nowhere near the same ballpark as that gorgeous man.
“You’re beautiful and sweet and kind. You have an amazing job and support yourself. You’re a damn catch, woman!” Ainsley yelled into the phone.
I gave myself a once-over in the mirror. I was twenty-two years old. I wore a big T-shirt that read ‘I Like Big Books And I Cannot Lie.’ It had a brownish stain near the collar. I smelled it and winced. Mustard from the sandwich I ate yesterday. I bet that beautiful man wouldn’t be caught dead wearing yucky old mustard clothes. The T-shirt covered me almost to my knees, which was good because I wasn’t wearing any pants. It was one of my policies. The no pants is the best pants policy. My dark brown-red hair was thrown into a knot on the top of my head. I was pretty sure I hadn’t brushed it since I’d had a shower almost three days ago. I know. Gross. But Miranda-Mae’s Editing had been swamped that week. I’d been so busy the last three days I’d almost taken a stalker break. Almost.
“And chubby,” I said, patting the round cheeks attached to my face. “You forgot that part. I’m a redhead. No one wants a chubby redhead.” I laughed into the phone, but not really. He was fit as a fiddle, and I liked donuts and iced coffees and pizza. I wasn’t mad about how I looked. I liked me. I was okay with who I was, comfortable in my skin.
Ainsley sighed. “You’re not chubby. You’re curvy. Voluptuous. Juicy in all the right—”
I cut her off, laughing. “You did not just call me juicy. And I’m pretty sure every word you just used is a synonym for chubby.”
“Those words do not mean chubby.”
I smiled. “They do.”
She groaned. “They don’t.”
“Who’s the English major in this conversation?” I asked.
“Fine, but I mean it, Miranda. You’re beautiful. If you want that man, march across the hall and get him. He’d be lucky to have you.”
“And this is why you’re my best friend. Because you love me even though I’m a fluffy redhead.” I laughed.
“Okay, that’s it. I gotta go before I slap you. Take a shower sometime soon.”
I hung up the phone, making my way to the spare bedroom in my tiny apartment that functioned as a makeshift office. I moved over the bazillion Post-it notes that contained an atrocious number of lists and pieces of stationary that sat on my desk and opened the romance book I was finishing editing before I’d started my man stalking.
I wasn’t just a curvy redhead, I was also apparently a clutter bug. I didn’t have a lot growing up, so the things I loved I kept. Like my lists and books. And I had tons of each. Everywhere.
Two hours later, my feet hit the downtown streets of Columbia, South Carolina. I even showered and put on pants.Look at me adulting and all that jazz.I breathed in the fresh air and tilted my head to the sunny sky, enjoying the feel of the Carolina sunshine on my face. I was from a small town only thirty minutes away, but I always knew I’d live in the city. It was a dream of mine, and I always followed my dreams. Columbia wasn’t a big city, but it was a city nonetheless, and my apartment was just a few steps from the State House, being that this city was the capitol. I liked the convenience of hitting up my favorite coffee shop whenever I liked. Meeting my friends at fancy restaurants close by without having to drive my car. But I knew I’d never leave the South. Its customs and culture and my love for its food were too deeply ingrained in me. The South was as deeply entrenched in me as I was in it. I was what I liked to call a southern city girl.
I walked into the coffee shop directly below my apartment and ordered my usual cold brew from Letty, the coffee shop owner, before walking to the tiny library two blocks from my apartment.
I got a small thrill every time I saw the small box that was shaped like a palmetto tree, the state tree of South Carolina. Not to be mistaken for a palm tree. I opened the small, colorful front of the tree and took note of the five books inside. I reached into my purse and pulled out three more books. I took a few of my business cards from my purse and slipped them inside the books and placed them on top of the others in the little library. I loved adding the independently published authors I edited for to the small library and drumming up some business for myself. Sharing a good author’s work always put me in a good mood. I stopped on my way back home and ordered some Chinese takeout that had me tapping my foot and glancing at the time on my phone. It took way longer than it should have.
I checked the time again and quickened my pace, worried I’d miss my nameless hot man getting into his truck for his trusted 3:00 p.m. appointment. I came around the entrance to my stairwell like a hurricane, wind-blown hair and frazzled, Chinese food and purse in hand, determined to make it to my front window so I’d have the best view when bam, I hit a solid wall of muscle. And Lord have mercy, because that wall smelled like cologne and clean musk and pure man. I wanted to lean closer and take a big whiff, but that would have been inappropriate, and I was only inappropriate about 50 percent of the time and that was usually when I wasn’t wearing pants. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case at that moment, so instead I backed up, clutched my Chinese food to my chest like someone was going to steal it, and looked up. And then I looked up some more and more because this dude was tall. Like really tall. I kept looking up until I realized I was staring at my nameless hot man.
And goodness gracious. His jaw was just as square as I imagined it would be up close. I wanted to run the pads of my fingertips over the smooth skin, but that would have been weird. And, honestly, chubby girls couldn’t afford for people to know they were weird, too. I took in his every feature. I’d never been this close to my dream man and I might never be again. His nose was strong and wide with a slight bump in the center. His eyes were covered by those darn sunglasses again, and I cursed their very existence even as I saw my shocked face reflected back in them. My eyes were wide. My mouth a perfect O staring back at me. My face dreamy and stunned.
I backed up, embarrassed at my gawking, but still not managing to pull my eyes away from him. His broad shoulders and torso were sporting a black T-shirt that clung to every muscle on his body. He wore dark, denim jeans that sat tight across his big, strong thighs.
