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“Not at all.”
“Well, I don’t mind him coming around, but I don’t want him to get hit by a car or anything if he wanders.”
“I appreciate that. I’ll get the new hole fixed soon as I can.”
“It was nice meeting you.”
“You too, sweetheart.”
I waved and climbed down, smiling at meeting one of my neighbors. It was starting to feel official.
I was a homeowner.
Traipsing back across the yard and leaning the ladder against the side of the house, I headed back inside to get back to work. Before I could even sit down, my phone buzzed on the counter.
It was a text from a number I didn’t recognize. When I opened and read the message, my stomach did a somersault.
Him:This is Bennett. I’m heading over now.
Me: Excuse me. Why are you heading over?
Bennettand I had agreed to meet and work on our roles since our characters were onstage the entire show. We had exchanged numbers and addresses at the last rehearsal since Peter had demanded that we rehearse together in between regular rehearsals. And as Peter said, the comedic timing was essential in getting right for a great performance.
Him: You said you were free most Thursdays and Fridays. I had to work late yesterday.
Shit,I remember agreeing to get together, but I hadn’t meant this week. I wanted to memorize more of my lines first.
I also remembered his snarky smile when I’d said I was free most Fridays. Like I didn’t have a dating life or something. Which I didn’t. But it was more that I had a longstanding, weekly date with my sofa on Friday nights. I was always too tired to go out after the work week and wanted nothing more than Netflix and a glass of wine.
Him:Are you not free tonight? Busy?
I looked downat myself in a rather short pair of cut-offs and my old t-shirt, then glanced at the boxes.
Me:Not really.
But hell,he could give a girl some warning. What if Ididhave a hot date or something?
Him:Be there in five.
“Crap!”
I jumped up and sped to my living room, where I’d dropped my shoes and bag for work and let a small pile of junk build up over the week.
Quickly, I snatched the to-go box from Antonio’s that was my dinner earlier, my nail clippers off the coffee table, the stack of mail and the essays I was grading. Right as I chunked the bulk of it on my bed, the mail on my nightstand and the clippers in the bathroom, the doorbell rang.
Rushing back to the small foyer entrance of my house, I glanced in the hall mirror, refusing to worry about the fact that I looked bedraggled and messy.
This wasn’t a date, and I didn’t care what Bennett Broussard thought of me. That’s what I reminded myself anyway as I swung open the door.
Damn him.
Why did he look even hotter in faded jeans, a dark hoodie, and semi-wet hair? He must’ve just showered. His gaze dropped down my body, lingering on my legs as I stepped back.
“Come on in.” I gestured to the living room right off the front entrance.
He walked past me, leaving a wake of that mint-and-masculine scent.
“Are you chewing gum again?” I blurted out without thinking.
