10. Chapter 10
ten
I was really doing this. For the first time in years, I was voluntarily staying up past eight. Would I regret it? Probably. But when your friend asks you to pick up a donkey costume for her school’s Shakespeare play, you do it.
Not without some resistance, though.
“Why can’t you pick it up?” I asked, begrudgingly wedging my stocking feet into my flip-flops and pinching my phone between my shoulder and cheek. “You know I don’t get my car back from the mechanic until Monday, right?”
“And whose fault is that?” Hattie countered, her voice reverberating through the phone speaker.
“Annie offered to check it for you weeks ago, but you turned her down. Kris is getting her kids to bed, Lex isn’t answering her phone, so I’m assuming she’s spending her Friday night with Mr. Tall, Organized, and Handsome.
It’s from a Facebook Buy Nothing Group, so the competition is fierce.
First come, first served. It’s only two blocks from your new apartment, and I’m halfway across town trading fried chicken for a mannequin. ”
“You’re what ?”
“Trading fried chicken for a mannequin,” she repeated, as if that was the most normal thing in the world. “Do you need to get your ears checked?”
I snorted. “No, I just made the mistake of expecting an answer that would make sense.”
“ Cents is for bankers. Now, can you pick it up or not? Time’s a tickin’.”
I hesitated in front of my coat closet, debating whether to wear a jacket before deciding the walk would keep me warm enough. “Yeah, I’ll go pick it up. But you owe me, okay? It’s past my bedtime.”
I’d kept my oversized pajama shirt as it was, only exchanging my running shorts for sweats.
I probably should’ve put a little more thought into my appearance before going into public, but I was too tired to care tonight.
The bakery had been unusually busy this morning, and one of the high school part-timers had called out sick, so I’d been filling in at the register as well as baking as much as I could when I could.
After I grabbed the costume, I wanted nothing more than to sink into bed and sleep for a century.
Or until three A.M. rolled around again. Same thing.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll pick up the costume tomorrow afternoon once you’re off from work,” she said. “Hey, you want fried chicken in exchange?”
I laughed, though the offer was more tempting than I’d like to admit. I was getting a little sick of frozen pizzas. Between moving and working double shifts back-to-back, that was all I had energy to make by the time I got home. “You know what? Make it lasagna and you’ve got a deal.”
“Consider it done, girl. Thanks again, Dekker.”
Minutes later, I slipped into the hall— after checking the peephole, of course.
My haggard appearance would scare whoever was getting rid of the donkey, but that would cut down on the small talk, right?
Win-win. It’s not like my dating life could take a worse hit from this, and that knowledge was surprisingly freeing.
I’d made it successfully down to the first floor and to the door before running smack into a warm wall as I rushed through. I bounced off the significantly more solid, taller human being, who quickly caught my shoulders before I could stumble further. And I probably would’ve, knowing my luck.
“Sorry about tha—” Sweet chili peppers and popcorn , could a girl never catch a break? How many other people lived in this building, and I managed to literally run straight into Max’s brawny chest? With his hands steadying me, the Deja Vu from this morning hit hard.
“Are you okay?” He flashed a smile, dark eyes roving over me to take in my appearance in all its saggy, holey, socks-and-sandals glory.
Heat scorched my cheeks, flooding to gather in pools where his hands made contact with my shoulders. “Oh, hey, Max. Fancy meeting you here.” For real. Freakin’ fancy that. “I’m apparently taking the ‘running into each other’ phrase literally today.”
His smile widened, and he let his hands drop from my shoulders. “It’s keeping me on my toes, that’s for sure.”
“Ah, yes. You’re welcome.” I cringed.
If there was a book on how to kill social interactions within two minutes, I could be used for all of the examples.
I stepped to the side, intent on getting to the address Hattie had texted to me before anyone else poached her donkey. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have… business to attend to.”
“Ooh, sounds intriguing.” He angled his body out of the way and held the door open for me. “What kind of business?”
I slunk through the door, trying to avoid touching him without making it obvious.
The last thing my fried nerves needed was the confusing jumble of sparks his touch elicited.
Still, it took an embarrassing amount of effort not to inhale his cologne like trust fund babies snorted cocaine. “Uh… donkey business.”
“Now this, I’ve got to see.” He followed me, though what he expected to get out of a mundane errand, I had no clue.
Sixteen hours ago, I would’ve already started the mental gymnastics needed to obsess over his ulterior motives and then try in vain to shut off my brain.
Now, I was too tired to bother. If he exacted his revenge here and now, good for him.
If I was going to get punished, it may as well be in my comfy clothes.
“What makes you think you get to tag along?” I teased.
“Well, I did save you from a terrifying snake invasion, so I think I might deserve a little special treatment.”
“Eh, debatable.” I waved it off, as if he hadn’t seen me have a total psychotic break over an accessory and kept my attention on the sidewalk ahead. Anywhere but at the man walking beside me for undisclosed reasons. “Don’t you have something you were going to do tonight?”
I doubted he was coming home from work this late, and his jeans and hoodie only lent credence to that conclusion. And made him look Carolina reaper-level hot. If the sun’s steady descent below the horizon hadn’t made it so crisp outside, I’d probably have to fan myself just from looking at him.
“I could ask you the same.” He looked pointedly at his watch. “It is currently ten minutes past eight, and our resident grandma is out on the town, armed with socks and sandals.”
The wind blew, sending the dusky air blasting against my bare arms and billowing through my giant shirt. Sweet and sour meatballs , it was chillier than I expected.
I laughed, more to suppress the urge to hug my arms against me for warmth than anything else. “I was in a hurry, okay?”
And my feet were perpetually cold until summer was in full force. But talking about cold feet with the man I’d basically broken the engagement of seemed insensitive. And gross, because feet. Ew.
“So this is urgent donkey business?” He chuckled and smoothly switched places with me, so he was the one walking closer to the road. “I’m even more curious about our destination now.”
“Hold up.” I stopped, holding a hand up in front of me like that would actually make a difference. “There is no ‘our’ destination. I am going somewhere, and you should be home doing whatever you were going to do.”
“Pretty sure ‘urgent donkey business’ trumps making my way through every episode of The Mandalorian for the eighth time.” He shrugged, completely unaffected by my attempt to chastise him. “Honestly, there isn’t much ‘donkey business’ wouldn’t trump.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t even know what ‘donkey business’ is. It could be eating hay or hee-hawing at passersby or carrying people piggy-back style for all you know.”
“You say that like those aren’t all amazing options.”
The mental image of Max braying like a donkey at people on the street was too much for my fog-addled brain to comprehend. If I had riches, I’d spend them all to see that show.
Another breeze accosted my skin, cutting off my laugh with a shiver. I resumed my speed walking. “I hate to break it to you, but I think you’re going to be sorely disappointed. I’m just picking up a costume for one of my friends. Still want to follow me?”
“Is that what I’m doing? Here I thought I was walking with you, but if you want me to follow you all creepy-like, I’d be happy to oblige.”
I snort-laughed, sounding eerily similar to the donkey we were on a quest to collect. Max was many things, but “creepy” wasn’t one of them. Chivalrous, confusing, funny, potentially vengeful? Sure. But creepy? Definitely not. “Okay, fine. Still want to walk with me?”
“Of course. Even if ‘donkey business’ wasn’t arguably the best sales pitch I’ve ever heard, you’re still walking alone again in the dark.”
The sun hadn’t completely set yet, but I couldn’t argue.
Originally, I’d thought I’d be quick enough to make it back before it was completely dark.
Now, seeing how little light was left before we’d even reached our destination, I was grateful for his company.
Even if he hated me, he wouldn’t hurt me. That much I knew down to my core.
He fixed me with an unimpressed look. “Lex let it slip that your car’s in the shop, so I won’t even bother asking why you’re not driving this time.”
I shrank in on myself guiltily. Still, I hadn’t lied, so I shouldn’t feel ashamed, right? Lying by omission didn’t count when karma wasn’t on your side.
To distract from my deceit, I busied myself with consulting the GPS on my phone, so I’d know which direction to take when we reached the intersection in a few steps. Straight ahead, apparently.
The wind gusted with fervor, turning me into a rippling Dekker-cicle. This time, I couldn’t resist crossing my arms against the chill. “You take your lawman duties seriously, don’t you?”
Either that, or he was following me to prove a point since I’d purposely mislead him. Maybe both.
We came up to the intersection, now bathed in yellow light from the streetlamp above the crosswalk sign. A few cars sped past as we waited for the light to change so we could cross.
Max regarded me with narrowed eyes before tugging his hoodie off.
That small action melted my brain into goo.
Because, as he pulled the sweater up and over his head, his T-shirt underneath pulled with it just long enough for me to get a glimpse of his perfectly bronzed and toned abdomen, a smattering of dark hair trailing in a thin line from his belly button down, down, down until it disappeared under the waistband of his pants.
Holy guacamole .
Heat curled in my belly. Forbidden heat I had no business feeling, especially given the incident . My mouth went dry, my eyes glued to his midsection long after his T-shirt fell back down to cover it.
I was a Victorian man with no self-control, and Max was the woman who’d just flashed her ankles at me.
“Dekker?” he asked, finally breaking me out of my trance.
“Huh?” I peeled my eyes away and up to meet his gaze, only to find that he held his sweater out to me. How long had he been standing like that? Had he called my name before now? Yikes.
“Are you cold?” he said, amusement written in the arch of his brows, the ease of his smile. Like he had indeed repeated himself. Awesome. “You can wear my jacket.”
“Uh.” I cleared my throat and gulped a few times, willing my tongue to stop sticking to the roof of my mouth. And preferably form multisyllabic words. “Um. Thank you, but I’m good. I’m suddenly very warm.”
The light finally turned. I’d never been more relieved to see the flashing pedestrian in my life.
Before he could argue—and he clearly wanted to, based on the steely set of his jaw—I panicked, grabbed his hand, and tugged. “Let’s go.”
I’d made it a few steps into the street before I realized I was still holding his hand. I yelped and dropped it like it burned. And in a way, it did. Not like fire, but a spicy curry. Just enough kick to keep you coming back for more, which was absolutely not allowed.
He had every reason to hate me. Whether he actually did or not, that fact remained the same. And now I’d gone and held his hand.
Like a captive, to be clear, but there was hand-holding, nonetheless.
“Sorry. That was—um—I didn’t—” I stuttered, before the lit screen of my phone offered an escape. “We’re almost there.”
And thank cheesecake for that . I practically jogged the last half a block. As much as my flip-flops allowed, anyway, which consisted of a whole lot of slapping the sidewalk and very little forward progress. Max, to his credit, didn’t comment on my seal impersonation.
“Here we are,” I wheezed, hands on my knees as I stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the apartment we needed. “Unit twenty-one.”
Max scanned me, his characteristic smile replaced with a frown. “You good? I can grab the costume for you and bring it down.”
I waved him off. “I’m good.”
I could do it myself. I would do it. Even if my lungs hated me and my flip-flops tried to fall off with each stair. Which they did.
We finally made it, one of us gasping for air and the other fresh as a daisy. A— rightfully —concerned daisy.
“It’s the altitude,” I managed to get out between breaths as I knocked on the door. “Still haven’t adjusted.”
“You know Detroit is practically at sea level, right?”
“Yeah, but we just climbed, like, a billion stairs.”
“Pretty sure it was twenty-seven.”
I shot him a glare. “Twenty-seven steep stairs.”
He held his hands up in surrender, a smile lighting his face. “You’re right. Twenty-seven steep stairs. We’re practically on Everest now.”
I smiled sunnily and ignored his sarcasm. “That’s more like it.”
The door creaked open, and in its place stood a six and a half-foot tall monster. Gray fur, lifeless cartoon-eyes. Fluffy hair on its forehead, gloves for hands, and wearing a T-shirt and skirt, all separated from us only by a clear plastic bag.
Donkey-like. But humanoid. And definitely female, if the subtle rise and dip on its chest was any indication. It might have been cute once upon a time, too. But now it was faded and dirty, like the better days it had seen hadn’t been for a few years.
I froze, the blood draining from my flushed face. No. There was no way this was what Hattie wanted me to pick up for her. She wouldn’t, right?
Who was I kidding? She totally would.
I met Max’s gaze, his own face alight with wicked glee even as dread turned my bones to stone. He surreptitiously shielded his mouth from the donkey’s view with his hand and mouthed the very question cycling through my head.
“ A fur suit? ”