Two
TWO
Reagan
One more stop.
After a jam-packed day yesterday, as well as a busy morning today, I was ready for an uneventful afternoon and evening with no pressing tasks.
For now, all I wanted was some time alone to decompress and recharge for a busy week ahead. And I couldn’t think of a better way to make that happen than to spend some time this afternoon painting a new birdhouse.
All I needed to do was make one last stop at the craft store to pick one up along with the non-toxic paints.
After leaving my showing, I went straight to my last destination. Fortunately, it was on my way home.
I arrived and didn’t waste any time browsing other spots in the store. Normally, I might have moseyed along and found something cute to add to the décor in my house, but I wasn’t up for it today. Instead, I made my way to where the pre-assembled birdhouses were and looked at my options.
Some were entirely too small. Others felt like they were trying too hard to be anything other than an actual birdhouse. But eventually, my eyes landed on one that would be perfect. And it seemed I wasn’t alone in my line of thinking, because while all the other styles had multiple houses remaining, there was only one left of the one I liked best.
But just as I reached for it, someone’s hand brushed up against mine. I gasped, feeling startled, as I hadn’t even realized anyone was standing so close to me.
My eyes journeyed from the hand that was still touching mine, up along the arm, over the shoulder, and to the face of a man I’d seen before.
Mystery man.
I immediately pulled my hand away. “Sorry.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “What did you call me?”
Shaking my head, I insisted, “Nothing. I simply apologized.”
“I could have sworn you called me mystery man.”
I blinked my eyes rapidly. Had I said that out loud?
Biting my lip, I took a step back and shrank away from him. I didn’t know why, but there was something about this guy that was both captivating and terrifying.
For the last four months now, I’d seen him once a week, every week. Tuesdays, to be precise.
Every Tuesday afternoon, I went to Grant’s Deli for lunch. And every Tuesday afternoon, Mystery Man did the same.
We never spoke to each other. Or, well, we’d never had a conversation with one another. But sometimes, he’d give me a nod of acknowledgment, or he’d hold the door for me as he left, and I walked into the deli.
Normally, I wouldn’t have come up with a silly nickname for a random stranger, but this guy was different. It was unavoidable.
He was tall. God, he had to be the tallest man I’d ever seen.
And he was big. He’d been fully clothed every time I saw him, but there wasn’t a chance that if I ever got the opportunity to see him in nothing that I’d be hard pressed to find an ounce of fat on him. He was strong, built, muscular.
The mystery man had brown hair, the color of rich milk chocolate, dark brown eyes, and a neatly groomed full beard that outlined his exquisite lips perfectly.
I wasn’t in the market for a relationship, but the man was one fine specimen.
“Wait a minute,” he said, taking a step toward me. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”
Why didn’t it surprise me that I wasn’t memorable enough?
I swallowed roughly. “Yeah. I think I recognize you from Grant’s Deli. I go there every Tuesday to grab lunch.”
A look of understanding washed over him as he tipped his chin higher. “Ah, that’s it. At least I’m not going crazy.”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
His eyes roamed over my face before shifting to the birdhouse. He studied it a moment, and when he looked back at me, he said, “You can have it.”
“No. No, it’s okay. You can take it.”
Why I was willing to walk away from the only good birdhouse here was beyond me. I really wanted that one, and even if it was sexist, I could admit I didn’t peg this guy for being the kind of guy who sat home on the weekend painting birdhouses.
He probably had a wife who loved them.
In an instant, my eyes dropped to his left hand. Not a ring in sight.
Okay, so maybe not a wife. Maybe a girlfriend.
“It’s the last one, though,” he pointed out. “I wouldn’t feel right taking it if you really wanted it.”
I waved my hand in the air dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Honestly, this is the best thing that could have happened. Because I’ve been thinking about how I really need to learn how to build my own birdhouses anyway.”
“More than one?”
Shrugging, I confessed, “Birds need homes, too.”
Mystery man studied me, a strange look on his face I couldn’t quite read. But I had a feeling I knew what he was thinking. He thought I was crazy.
“I guess you’re right. Are you sure you don’t want to take this one?”
I nodded. “Positive.”
He jerked his chin down slightly with acceptance. “I really appreciate you being so selfless… I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Oh. Right. Um, Reagan. My name is Reagan.”
Something washed over his expression, but the look was so brief, I wondered if I’d made it up. “I’m Hart.”
“Hart?”
He dipped his chin.
I offered a half-hearted smile. Finally. A real name to put with the mystery man I’d been unable to avoid noticing at the deli. “It’s nice to meet you, Hart.”
“The pleasure is mine, Reagan.”
Hart and I stood there in awkward silence for a few beats. And since I couldn’t handle that pressure, I was the one who eventually broke it. “Well, I guess I better head out of here. Enjoy the birdhouse.”
Hart held the birdhouse up and shook it slightly between us, his lips twitching. “Will do.”
God, he was handsome. Why did all the good ones have to be taken?
I had to stifle my laughter at that thought. There was nothing to indicate Hart was a good one. Sure, he was here purchasing a birdhouse that was likely for his girlfriend, but even serial killers probably had moments when they appeared normal.
Furthermore, even if Hart hadn’t had someone special in his life, it wouldn’t have mattered to me. I wasn’t looking for anything serious. The last thing I wanted was another false promise or sliver of hope. I was perfectly content with my life as it was.
After standing awkwardly for far too long, I forced a smile on my face. “Enjoy the remainder of your weekend.”
I made to move past him as Hart replied, “Yeah, you, too.”
Without another look at him, I took off. And I never made my way to the lumber store to pick up wood to build my own birdhouse.
Maybe one day I would, but today wasn’t that day.
* * *
I’d had such a busy start to the week that, by the time I strolled into the deli on Tuesday afternoon, I’d forgotten about my weekend encounter with Hart at the craft store.
Then I saw him standing at the counter, his back to me, and it all came flooding back. I should have delayed my visit here today; I had the time in my schedule this afternoon.
Mallory, the owner of the deli, had just handed Hart the bag containing his lunch, and while he paid, I tried to come up with something to say.
It felt strange now.
For so long, he’d just been my mystery man—the hot guy I ogled at the deli. Now, that was all ruined.
Now, he was the hot guy who had a girlfriend he bought birdhouses for on the weekend.
Hart paid for his order, said goodbye to Mallory, and turned to leave. That’s when he saw me.
I didn’t know what I’d been expecting from him—not much, considering I hadn’t really had much time to think about this encounter—but I would have thought I’d get more than I did.
In fact, I was left wondering if I’d been so exhausted by all the work I’d been doing lately, because Hart had reacted as though everything was normal, as if we hadn’t ever had that brief conversation with one another at the craft store just two days ago.
He glanced briefly at me, jerked his chin down slightly, and walked right past me toward the door.
It was what I’d grown accustomed to experiencing with him over the last few months, so perhaps I should have been relieved that things would be like normal between us. But there was one small part of me that had expected something more.
I was acutely aware of the door as it opened behind me while I stepped forward to the counter.
“Hi, Reagan. I’ve got your sandwich ready to go.”
Ignoring my thoughts about how, once again, I was seemingly insignificant in everyone’s life, I smiled at Mallory. “You’re the best.”
She beamed at me. “I try, but you make it easy by calling in.”
It was true. I did do that.
I’d been coming to Grant’s Deli long enough to know that lunch time was rather chaotic, and while I didn’t want to avoid the place altogether, I decided it was best to place my order before the rush, so Mallory or one of her staff could have it ready to go when I arrived. It seemed she appreciated it.
I paid for my lunch, said goodbye, and walked out the door. As I made my way to my car, I wasn’t paying much attention to what was happening around me, so I was entirely startled when I heard a deep voice call my name from behind.
“Reagan?”
I let out a yelp, my hand flying to my chest as I spun around. My eyes landed on Hart. “Oh, God. You scared me.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you saw me.”
Shaking my head, I shared, “Not at all.”
“You should be more careful,” he advised. “You can never be too safe.”
He had a point. Even still, slightly wounded by how he’d ignored me inside, I was feeling a bit feisty. “Are you suggesting that you’re here to bring me harm?”
“What? No. Of course not.” Hart seemed a touch offended that I’d even insinuated such a thing. When I said nothing in response, he added, “It’s wise to be aware of your surroundings, because not everyone has good intentions.”
I cocked a brow. “You’re still here because you wanted to tell me that?”
Hart took a step back and shook his head. “No. No, I waited here, because I wanted to give you this.”
For the first time since I’d stepped outside and been startled by him, I noticed that Hart had been holding something in his hand.
He lifted that hand between us, and I was awestruck by what I saw. “That… That’s a birdhouse.”
Hart chuckled. “Yes, it is.”
“It’s not the same one you bought on Sunday, though.”
“No, that one was for my grandmother. But I felt bad about taking the last one, and since I expected I’d see you here today, I figured I could bring you a replacement. I know it’s not the same, but I was hoping it might make up for you having to walk out without one.”
His grandmother.
He didn’t purchase the birdhouse for his girlfriend. It was for his grandmother. How sweet!
Even sweeter was that he thought to bring one here for me today.
Any of the tension and defensiveness I’d been feeling vanished. “Wow, Hart, this is… this is such a lovely gesture.”
“Well, what you did was just as nice. My grandmother loved the birdhouse I got her, so I figured I owed you.”
My heart warmed.
There was one part of me that was so moved by what he’d done that I wanted to throw my arms around him to hug him. But there were only two problems with that.
First, Hart made it clear he was simply trying to return the favor and do something nice for me.
Second, and probably most importantly, I refused to do something that’d give him the wrong idea. Because, well, what if Hart’s intentions weren’t pure?
Sure, he’d said he felt bad that I’d walked out without a birdhouse, and maybe that was partially true. But that he brought one here for me today meant that he’d had at least some thought about me after our encounter at the store. Was this merely a way for him to break the ice? Did he want something more from me?
I thought I had the perfect resolution if that had been the case. “This really was so kind of you to do, Hart. I think I like this house better than the one I saw on Sunday. How much was it?”
He held up his free hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
“What? Yes. You have to let me pay you for it.”
“That’s unnecessary. I want you to have it.”
My eyes narrowed on his. The good vibes I’d been feeling when I learned the truth about what he’d done with the birdhouse I refused to purchase out from under him two days ago were slowly fading.
Hart had walked past me weekly for months and never showed any interest in me. He didn’t even recognize me when he first spotted me in the store, when our hands first touched.
Was it possible that a single conversation or act of kindness I’d shown him was enough to have him thinking about me after the fact? Had I left an impression on him?
“Reagan?”
The sound of my name coming past his lips forced me out of my stupor. I shook my head to clear it of the endless thoughts. “Yeah?”
“Is everything okay?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes, I’m sorry. It’s just… I don’t like the idea of owing somebody.”
“You don’t owe me anything. You already did something nice for me. I’m just returning the favor.”
I sent him a look that I hoped indicated I was still having a difficult time. “But you should allow me to pay you back for it.”
His shoulders fell. “If you don’t want it, or if it’s not your style, you can just say so. You won’t hurt my feelings.”
“That’s not it at all. I do like it.”
“So, take it.” There was something in his gaze that compelled me to hold back any intrusive and negative thoughts. My silence gave Hart the courage to be even sweeter. “You did a nice thing, Reagan. I didn’t forget it, because I’m a man who appreciates when people are kind.”
Following a beat, I reached out and took the birdhouse from him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“No. But, well, if I’m honest, I thought you were trying to find a way to break the ice and ask me out on a date.”
“Oh, God. No. No, not at all.”
My brows shot up. “Am I that hideous?”
Hart’s expression turned horrified. “What? No. Sorry. That came out wrong. It’s not you. It’s me. You’re stunning. I’m just not interested in dating right now. But if I wanted to date someone seriously, you’d certainly be the kind of woman I’d pursue. Gorgeous and compassionate.”
Wow.
Wow, that felt good.
Even better was that he’d said it without any expectations for something in return, since he wasn’t looking to date.
“That was nice of you to say. Thank you. I guess it’s a good thing you feel the way you do.”
“Why is that?”
I offered a small smile. “Because you aren’t the only one who isn’t interested in ever dating someone seriously.”
Hart chuckled. “I didn’t say ever , but I’m glad you clarified that, because it’s precisely how I feel.”
My eyes roamed over his handsome face. Perhaps I wasn’t the only person in this town who’d been left heartbroken. “Love hurts.”
Though he didn’t immediately respond with words, Hart didn’t hesitate to give me a nod mixed with a look of solidarity.
Something warm and intense passed between us, something that left me feeling slightly unsettled. Just before I was going to excuse myself and turn toward my car to leave, Hart said, “I’m sorry for whatever you’ve been through.”
“Likewise.”
Hart threw his thumb over his shoulder. “I should get going.”
“Yeah. Same here. Thank you, again, for the birdhouse.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Following one lingering stare, Hart turned and walked in the opposite direction. He’d only made it a handful of steps away before I called out to him. “Hart?”
He stopped, turned, and pinned his eyes on mine. “Yeah?”
“It gets lonely sometimes, doesn’t it?”
He inclined his head slightly. “Better than the alternative, right?”
Glad I wasn’t crazy for feeling that way, I nodded. And something about knowing he experienced the same as me and chose to keep things the way he did had me speaking before I could stop myself. “If you ever don’t want to feel that way, keep me in mind.”
Surprise washed over him, and he took slow, careful strides back in my direction. “Pardon?”
I reached into my purse, pulled out one of my business cards, and held it out to him. “I work odd hours, and I rarely have a free weekend, but I try to head home for lunch every day.”
Hart took the card from me and studied it before returning his attention to me. “Are you suggesting that we?—”
“I’m offering a solution to a problem without any expectations. Neither of us is interested in anything serious, but that doesn’t mean we don’t want to experience the occasional feeling of being desired. You’re a great-looking guy, and you’re obviously a nice guy who adores his grandmother.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe this is crazy, but if you’re ever feeling lonely, give me a call.”
He swallowed roughly, his eyes roaming over my face. The air around us was thick with tension. Hart closed his fingers around my card and tucked it into the pocket of his jeans. “See you around, Reagan.”
Without another word, Hart turned and walked away.
And I stood there, wondering if I’d made a huge mistake. I hadn’t thought so, but when I showed up at Grant’s Deli the following week and didn’t see him, I couldn’t fool myself into believing anything different.