The door clicks shut behind her, and silence settles into the hallway.
“Well.” Faye claps her hands. “That was exciting. Wasn’t that exciting? I love a good meet-cute.”
What the hell is a meet-cute?
I force a smile of my own. “Glad I could help.”
“We’re very much looking forward to tonight’s kickoff mingle.” Faye picks up the undamaged teacup and saucer from the floor.
“You are?” I give them a small, wry grin, imagining their shocked faces when they realize exactly how “interactive” the classes get.
“Oh yes.” Faye’s eyes flick down and back up again. “Very much.”
That’s all the information I need. She’s seen my content.
“We will see tonight.” Wilma swings her hip at her sister. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll pop back to clean up the tea,” Faye calls back.
“I got it.”
They retreat down the hallway, still chatting.
I close my door, lean against it, and stare at the ceiling.
So much for privacy.
Between the mix-up of awkward assumptions and Shay’s scathing hatred of me, I feel like I’ve run a marathon in my own bedroom.
I toss the pillow on the bed and strut across the room. The carpet is soft under my bare feet. At the round carved corner table, I pour a glass of water.
She didn’t know who I was.
To be fair, no one really knows me. They know Cash Can Cook. They know the parts of me I let them see, but they don’t really know me.
But to her, I’m just a stranger next door.
I like that.
Too bad we got off on the wrong foot.
I glance at the door. She’s probably unpacking and muttering to herself all the reasons why she dislikes me.
Fair.
To a stranger, I acted like an arrogant prick.
I grab my suitcase and toss it on the bed. I drag it toward me, unzip it, and—
Freeze.
The contents are not the neat, folded clothes I left inside. Not my toiletries. A whole lot of something else. Something that definitely isn’t mine.
My brain whirs, trying to rationalize. Then it hits me.
This belongs to my stranger next door.
Oh snap.
