‘I don’t want them today,’ the woman replied, standing abruptly. ‘Bring them back tomorrow evening at seven.’ She turned to go back inside, holding up the little black box and pressing the big red button again. ‘It takes exactly forty-five seconds for the gates to close. If you don’t want to climb back over the wall, I’d start running.’
And with that, she went inside, slamming the door behind her.
‘And now we know why the postman delivers your packages to us instead of bringing them here,’ I grunted before breaking into a sprint and sliding through theclosing gates a moment before they clanged shut. An invisible lock clattered into place and I collapsed on the side of the road in a sweating, shaking heap, barely able to breathe and still holding on to two small packages addressed to a Ms M. Moore.
CHAPTER SIX
It took me a while to recover from my visit to the Moore house but the imminent threat of a visiting Ren was enough to spur me into action. I’d cleaned all the bathrooms (why on earth did Suzanne need five toilets for one person?) and ordered in every vegan-friendly foodstuff stocked at the local supermarket. It was a lot of food. If you could dream it, the vegan artisans of Los Angeles could make it. At dead on the dot of 6 p.m., I sat down on the sofa and stared at the front door.
Ren had said six-ish but that was one whole day ago. What time he showed up would tell me a lot about the kind of person he was. I wasn’t a monster, five minutes late was OK. Ten minutes was pushing it and I’d been raised to believe anything over fifteen minutes was taking the piss. More than half an hour past the appointed time and I would need a signed affidavit from government officials to confirm you had played a pivotal role in the preservation of humanity or don’t bother coming at all.
‘Waiting for someone?’
Jumping a clear foot off the settee, I turned to see Ren lurking behind me, framed by the open sliding glass doors of Suzanne’s living room.
‘Are you trying to give me a heart attack?’ I paused to make sure I hadn’t actually wet myself before I stood to greet him. ‘Also nice to see you, do come in, have you ever heard of a front door?’
‘This was one of the walk around and ring the buzzer situations, huh?’ he replied as he held out a bottle of wine and a fancy printed paper bag. ‘I’m sorry. I brought alcohol and cake, if that helps at all?’
‘It does,’ I said, grabbing both the wine and the cake. ‘It helps a lot.’
With his hands free, Ren smiled and pointed at my outfit. ‘I see you got the jeans and T-shirt memo. We match.’
He was right. Both of us had opted for the classics: blue jeans, white T-shirts, navy Converse. But where my ASOS jeans were snug and my Free People T-shirt loose, Ren’s straight leg Levis hung low on his hips and the ultra-thin cotton of his crew neck tee clung to his body, coasting over every curve and plane. His skin glowed and his dark hair was damp, giving him the distinct look of a character from a nineties romcom who had been up since dawn, building a log cabin for disadvantaged orphans before rushing into the shower and pulling on the first items of clothing he could find so he could still make our date on time.
Not that this was a date.
This was a strictly platonic meeting of two adults so one of said adults could look at some birds while theother conducted a subtle interrogation then manipulated the first into falling in love with her older sister’s personal trainer.
A perfectly normal Wednesday evening.
‘I got some food in case you’re hungry,’ I said, gesturing to the feast I’d laid out on the kitchen counter. ‘You mentioned you were vegan so it’s vegan.’
Truly, I was a poet.
‘Good memory.’ Ren poked through the assorted snacks, his hand hovering over a cookie and a carrot stick. I breathed a sigh of relief when he went for the cookie. I refused to allow Bel to pursue a man who actively chose a carrot over double chocolate chip. ‘Thank you for being so considerate. My folks still think I’m being difficult.’
‘Aren’t you though?’ I teased with a scrunched-up smile.
‘Yes,’ he replied, laughing. ‘I’m a fair-weather vegan if I’m being honest. My ex was vegan so I kind of took it up by default. I love dairy but it does not love me so I mostly avoid it and wow you did not need to know any of that.’
‘The faux veganism, the ex or the lactose intolerance?’
He took a bite of the cookie and held his hand over his mouth while he chewed. ‘Got it, overshare confirmed.’
‘Let’s go outside and look for your hawk,’ I suggested, crossing the room to head out the way he came in. ‘I thought I saw her earlier but it could have been an owl. Or a pigeon.’
He looked at me, less than impressed. ‘How does someone mix up a hawk, an owl and a pigeon? I know you’re not an expert but come on.’
I turned to give him my sternest frown. ‘Can you tell me the difference between lactic, glycolic and salicylic acid?’
‘Maybe I’ll just shut my mouth before I get myself into any more trouble,’ he replied with a playful glint in his green eyes.
‘Every day is a school day,’ I said as I led him outside.
We could definitely add a good sense of humour to my list of things to know about Ren. He also got bonus points for bringing wineandcake, and I had to admit, I was more than a little curious to know more about this ex of his that he’d mentioned so readily.
I probably knew more than enough about his lactose intolerance.
