It’s not like he had any obligation to keep his word.
Still…
I got up and went about the usual routine of getting ready for work.
I was just starting to dry my hair when there was a knock at the door.
My heart sped up and I felt butterflies in my stomach.
Lucas.
I opened the door, determined not to smile. But I couldn’t help it. I was grinning like a loon.
“Hey…” My voice trailed off when I saw who waited on the other side of the door.
“Good morning, Morgan. You look lovely per usual.” Thad, my icky neighbor, gave me a once over that left me wanting another shower.
“Hi Thad. What can I do for you? I’m in a rush this morning.” I firmly blocked the entrance to my apartment, not letting him inside.
Thad gave me the willies. He was probably a good ten years older than me. There wasn’t anything overt about his creepiness. He was an okay looking guy, if not a little on the nerdy side. His dark hair was always a bit greasy and his glasses were overly large for his narrow face.
But it was the way he watched me. The way he hung around. There was something just not right about him. Though he had never done anything specific to set off alarm bells. Call it women’s intuition but I knew I didn’t want to be alone with him.
“Overslept? Did you have a late night?” Why did his questions always seem to be laced with innuendo?
“What do you need, Thad?” I asked, not even trying to mask my impatience.
He handed me a stack of mail. “I keep getting your mail. It seems the postman is intent on throwing us together.” He laughed, I didn’t join him. “You’re a hard woman to track down. I’ve come by a few times to deliver these but you weren’t home.”
I flipped through the envelopes. “Some of these are from a week ago? Why didn’t you just put them in my mailbox downstairs?”
“I was hoping we could have a chat. Maybe over a cuppa—”
“Thanks for the mail Thad but in the future if you get anything, please just put it in the mailbox. I’ve got to get ready for work.” I closed the door in his face before he could say anything else. I wasn’t British; I didn’t care about being polite.
I got into work just one minute shy of being late.
“Hiya, Morgan,” Hayley called out after I arrived. I dropped my purse on my desk and turned on my computer.
“Cuppa?” she asked and I nodded.
“How was your weekend? I heard you went to a football game with Phil and got to meet the team.” Hayley waited as I took off my coat and then walked with her to get our morning cup of tea.
“How did you know about that?” I asked.
“Phil has a very big mouth. He’s also talking about how you totally fancy him and it’s only a matter of time until he takes a trip to America, if you know what I mean.” Hayley waggled her eyebrows and I made a face.
“He’s seriously saying that? I guess he’s not telling people how I made it clear we could only be friends,” I snapped, filling the kettle and turning it on.
“Phil Wickenham is a prat,” she snipped. “He’s selfish and a lout. You’d be best steering clear of him. Shutting that down was a smart thing to do.”
“You speak as if from experience,” I replied, dropping tea bags in our mugs.
“Unfortunately,” she murmured.
“I don’t know why I invited him. I’m not remotely interested,” I said.
“Good morning!” Libby singsonged as she walked into the room.
