Ian followed me, keeping the rain off of me as I went.
I couldn’t speak, but if I could have, I would have told him to hitthe road. There were also a bunch of other things I would have liked to say, too, but they may have burned my own ears off.
I dropped my bags when we made it to my door and fished my key out of my pocket. “Thank you, Mr. Greyson. I’ve got it from here.”
“Are you ever going to call me Ian again?”
“Nope. I think Mr. Greyson fits you.”
He frowned and pressed his lips together. “Kelli . . .”
I opened my door and pushed it open as quickly as I could, trying to ignore the shiver it gave me when he said my name so tenderly. I grabbed a few bags, hoping Mr. Greyson would get the hint and skedaddle.
That was wishful thinking. He picked up the remainder of them with ease.
“I’ve got it,” I snapped more than I meant to.
“I’m sure you do.” He, on the other hand, was kinder than me. That was until he came right into my apartment uninvited. His audacity was stunning.
“I told you I don’t invite men into my apartment.”
“No, you said you didn’t invite in strangers, and we both know I’m not one and this isn’t the first time I’ve been in one of your apartments.” He looked around and grinned. “But this one is a lot nicer than the last one.”
I stared at him with my mouth wide open, not sure what to say. Two weeks ago, I would have never in a million years imagined this could ever happen. I finally managed to find my words again. “Did you just wake up one morning and think, ‘I haven’t tortured Kelli Bryant in years, I need to get on that?’”
“You got me,” he said as he walked past me toward my kitchen. He set the grocery bags on my counter, turned around and strutted right back toward me.
All I could do was stand by my door and watch him.
He stopped to the side of me, leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Or maybe this has nothing to do with you at all.”
Goose bumps erupted all over my body. Curse him.
On that note, he walked out my door laughing. He turned,though, before fully exiting. “I’m in 211B, just in case you wanted to know. And by the way, I welcome women into my apartment.”
I dropped the bags I had been iron gripping. Who was this man? I was torn between chucking something at his head or giving him a housewarming kiss.
CHARLIE RUBBING AGAINST MY LEGS begging for attention pulled me out of my Mr. Greyson stupor. The man was infiltrating every space of my life, and his whole “this has nothing to do with you” comment kept running through my head. Of course it wasn’t about me, but still.
After putting my groceries away, I called Amanda. She was probably sick of all the calls this week, but I knew she would want to hear about this turn of events. At least I wasn’t crying this time.
“Whaaaat!” she exclaimed.
“You heard me right.”
“I knew it.”
“You knew what?”
“He still has feelings for you.”
I adamantly disagreed with her for the hundredth time on the subject and told her about his “nothing to do with me” comment.
She snickered. “Yep, he’s got it bad for you.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Loud and clear, my dear sister. Hold on, I want to tell Zane.”
