1
FREYA
This is crazy.
I’m not qualified for this.
I barely even know this guy.
And yet, without instruction from my brain, I find myself climbing out of my rideshare and staring up at the building looming before me, my heart in my throat.
My hands trembling, I move forward, toward the security guard for this incredibly flashy apartment building.
He’s watching me as if he’s expecting me.
You’ve got this, Freya. Walk into that building with your head held high, confident that you can do this.
A laugh threatens to erupt.
I have no idea how to do this.
Sure, I might have been cooking almost all my life, but I’ve never done it for someone other than for fun. Certainly never for a professional athlete.
What he needs is a chef. Not a cook.
And yet, for some bizarre reason, I’m the one standing here.
Behind me, my rideshare disappears down the street, taking with it my ability to escape.
You’ve got this. He asked you here for a reason.
Gripping the plate in my hand a little tighter, I lift my chin and step up to the automatic door.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” the kind-looking security guard says as he watches me approach his station. “What have you got there?” he asks, his wrinkled eyes dropping to the plate.
The confidence I was lacking outside suddenly appears as I lift the foil covering the cookies I made this morning.
“Oh my,” he breathes. “They smell divine.”
“You’re more than welcome to take one. I’m not sure Cole needs them all.”
His eyes flash and his smile grows. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve seen how much takeout that man orders.”
“I’m Freya Price,” I say, holding out my spare hand.
“And I’m Melvin Baker. Mr. Hansley told me he was expecting a visitor, but he didn’t mention she’d bring treats.”
I smile at Melvin as warmth floods through me.
He isn’t as old as my grandpa was when he passed, but he has the same aura. Kind, gentle, caring. Although, considering he works security, I’d be tempted to say he has an edge, too.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re used to girls turning up here for him.”
Melvin’s smile turns knowing before he leans forward as if he’s going to tell me a secret. “That may be true, but I don’t open the door for just anyone, my dear.”
My cheeks burn.
“Mr. Hansley has been delayed slightly. He told me to send you up and to let you know that he won’t be long.”
