The sound of glass hitting the floor interrupts her.
Nora whirls around as my attention is jerked to the girl who has just walked out of the kitchen. And dropped a glass. A thick blue concoction is now oozing all over the floor. Blueberry smoothie, if I had to guess.
“Ruth!” Nora gasps. “Are you okay?”
“Oh my God,” the girl says, staring at me.
I recognize her immediately.
This is the girl who chased me down in the parking lot almost a year ago. Who wanted me to talk to her grandfather. Nora’s grandfather. The girl who is—was—a huge fan of mine who I disappointed that night.
Well, hell.
A man comes out through the swinging door behind her and nearly plows her over.
“Ruth, what the hell?” the man exclaims.
“Alex,” the girl says.
That’s all she says. But the man’s eyes find me immediately. “Oh. Great,” he says flatly.
Where the young girl looks like someone just slapped her, he looks like someone just told him his dog is ugly. She looks shocked. He looks offended.
Awesome.
“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Nora asks.
The man just shrugs.
“Alex, this is my grandfather, Bruce. Your…landlord.” Nora winces as she says it.
Terrific. Not only am I living in the town of the man I dismissed after his stroke and promised to meet and greet, but his three best friends are out to teach me a lesson, and now his husband is my landlord. Awesome.
And I kind of want to date his granddaughter.
Well, notdateher. Spend time with her. And kiss her again.
I think Bruce shouldnotknow that.
I force a smile. “Hi, Bruce.”
He just makes a grunting sound.
“And this is Ruth,” Nora says, gesturing toward the young girl.
“Hi, Ruth.”
Ruth’s eyes get even wider. “Hi,” she breathes.
I abandon my luggage for a moment and step forward, offering my hand. “I know I was a big jerk the last time we met. I’m really sorry about that.”
Her eyes widen, and I’m afraid she’s not breathing. She steps forward, extending her arm, and takes my hand. The sound of crunching glass makes her look down.
“Here, I’ve got this.” A very pretty brunette suddenly rounds the counter and takes the two plates from Bruce’s hands.
“You don’t have to do that, Everly,” Bruce grumps.
“It’s no problem.” She smiles at me and steps out into the restaurant, delivering the plates to a table near the bookcase.
