“Because I just met my new neighbor and I’m pretty sure I’m in love.”
A steely sort of resolve makes my earlier nerves calm.
There’s silence on the other end of the phone. No doubt, Ruby and Nick are sharing matching skeptical expressions. Maybe I am overreacting, but Hannah is the first person I’ve been excited about in months. Maybe it isn’t love, but it’s something.
The next morning, Hannah’s Jeep is still in the driveway when I wake up. I packed last night, so I shower and eat quickly, then load up all my stuff in my SUV. I have an hour before I need to be at the rink for practice and just enough time for my plan. I say a silent prayer that Hannah isn’t gone before I get back.
Fifteen minutes later, I sigh with relief as I pull back into my driveway. Goodies in tow, I head for my new neighbor’s front door. My nerves climb with every step. It’s an excited sort of anxiousness. Last night, we got off on the wrong foot but I’m going to make this right.
I knock and then wait. The house is quiet and as far as I can tell there aren’t any lights on. She mentioned early training, so I don’t think she’s still sleeping. I turn back to her Jeep. Could shehave gotten a ride from someone else? There’s a little niggling voice that pipes up,Maybe her boyfriend picked her up.She very well could have a boyfriend. In fact, if she doesn’t, then it’s a miracle. It should deter me, but I tell myself that regardless of whatever connection I felt to her yesterday, this is about righting a wrong.
After knocking again then waiting another thirty seconds, I hit the doorbell. It’s loud. Some sort of upbeat musical melody goes on for so long I wonder if it’s broken. No sooner than it finally ends, the door swings open.
Breath whooshes out of my lungs as my gaze lands on Hannah. My skin buzzes and my mouth pulls into a dopey smile before I’ve even realized it.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, eyes bleary like she might have been sleeping. Her hair hangs over her shoulders and she’s still in a long T-shirt. The material is so thin I can now confirm that she is wearing shorts. Little black ones.
“Hello?” Her voice has risen in volume and in annoyance level.
I clear my throat. “Good morning. I brought you breakfast.”
“Why?”
“A peace offering. I’m sorry about…everything.”
She stares at the coffee cup and brown bag in my hands but makes no move to take either.
“No.”
“No?” I’m losing a little more of the confidence I walked over here with.
Her eyes are a brown that’s identical in color to my perfect coffee order. A splash of cream and a little sugar. Not too much of either but enough to take off the bitter edge. A rich, warm golden brown. I took a chance that she liked hers the same way, though it seems I may never know. Or she may dump it over my head.
“You’ve done enough. Coffee and…” Her gaze flits to the paper bag.
“Apple turnover.” Another one of my favorites.
Her brown eyes come more alive with every second. “It won’t fix anything.”
“I’m sorry.”
There’s a flicker of something in her expression. I think deep down she wants to forgive me, but she’s still too pissed.
I set the coffee and bag down in front of her and step back. Damn. It’s been so long since I saw a woman like this. Mussed. Bedhead, crumpled, no makeup, not done up at all. I love women all done up but it’s this version that I miss the most. Undone, unfiltered, genuine in a way that almost no one is today.
“The offer for dinner is still open anytime,” I say.
She moves to close the door again, but I think I detect the tiniest of smiles before she shuts it in my face.
“Love at first sight?” D-Low arches a brow as he glances at me from across the table. We’re on the team jet heading home from a game in Seattle. As is often our tradition, me, D-Low, Shep, Galaxy, and Penn are playing cards.
“I think it’s time to end the dating strike,” Nick says.
“Cleanse. Not a strike.” I’ve been in a sort of self-imposed slump.
“What’s the difference?” Shep asks.
“A strike sounds like I’m refusing to date to gain something.”
