The name took a moment to recover, perhaps because of thedisorienting kindness radiating off my new neighbor, or perhaps due to my lack of sleep and the espresso drilling a raw hole in the pit of my stomach. I hoped Wallace stocked the fridge.
“It’ssonice to meet you!” Alisha squeaked. “And this is Jeffrey!” She leaned forward, holding her hand to the back of the tiny head bobbling inside her harness. From inside her pouch, enormous brown eyes blinked up. A tiny bubble popped from Jeffrey’s bow lips.
I had precisely zero experience with babies, and very little interest to be honest, but even I couldn’t deny Jeffrey was cute.
“He’s sweet.” I dutifully smiled.
“Yes, we justeat him up!” Alisha’s voice turned into something between a dog’s squeaky chew toy and a feral animal in heat. “Anyway, we saw them bringing in new furniture the other day, so the girls and I assumed we’d have a new neighbor soon.” She paused to look up and down the street for signs of a moving van as I made note of thenew furniturecomment and sent a silent thanks to Wallace.
I gave her a tight smile. “The girls? Do you have more than just Jeffrey?”
She tilted her head in confusion before nodding in understanding. “Oh, Jeffrey is not mine. I’m his nanny,” she said, still bouncing, and waved one hand over her head in a loop. “I meant the other girls in the complex. This is basically nanny central.”
I blankly stared at her, unsure how to respond. Luckily, she kept the conversation flowing. “I work for the Wilson family.” She pointed over my shoulder, back down the storybook street. “Jeffrey and I were out for a walk, and I remembered I’d left something at home, so we stopped by. I’m glad I ran into you! Welcome to the neighborhood!”
“Thank you,” I said, hoping she wasn’t about to ask me more about my reason for being here.
I could lie, sure I could—and I was really good at it—but I usually never had to until after Wallace briefed me on my new identity. All I knew about Lauren was her address and that she had a very friendly neighbor named Alisha.
Alisha kept smiling at me. “I’m sure you’re excited to get started with—”
“Ms. Thomas?” someone said from the sidewalk.
We both turned to see a tall man in a suit with a leather messenger bag looped over his shoulder. I immediately clocked the telltale but discreet bulge at his hip.
“Lauren Thomas?” the man said as if it were a statement and a question at once.
“Yes,” I said, recognizing my new name and feeling more certain this man had arrived to help me.
“Hi. I’m Age—nt.” He caught himself with a deep blush, glancing at Alisha. “Theagent. I’m the real estate agent.” He recovered with a smile that wobbled at the edges and gave him a boyish look. The sun glossed his wavy brown hair into a shine. An eagerness rolled off him, which I could feel from a distance.
Alisha looked between the two of us, confused, and I silently begged her to go away.
“Right, yes. I forgot we had a meeting this morning. Please, won’t you come in,” I said to the man on the sidewalk.
Alisha, mercifully, took her cue to leave. “I’ll see you later, Lauren. It was so nice to meet you.”
I gave her a small wave as the man in the suit approached with wide steps in shiny shoes, which softly clicked on the pavement. When he arrived on my doorstep, I smelled soap and mint and realized he was a lot taller than I had thought.
My key was suddenly sweaty in my hand, and I hoped I was right about the man with a gun I was about to let into my new apartment.
CHAPTER3
The door opened to a small entryway. A sunny living room sat to the right, furnished with a suede couch, pale wood end tables, and a pile of cream-colored throws and pillows, which looked like clouds.
I took it in with an approving nod, noting Wallace had taken care to supply the caliber of furniture fit for the neighborhood. No flat-box anything in Lauren Thomas’s place.
I turned to my left and saw a kitchen with a high-top dining table, a hutch hanging with colorful coffee mugs, stainless steel appliances, and a fridge I hoped contained food.
I dropped my backpack and turned to my guest.
He closed the front door behind him and gave me a stiff smile. I had taken in his height on the doorstep, but up close and inside, the size of his body beneath his suit became apparent. His shoulders strained the slim lines; the fabric left little mystery about the shape of his biceps. He was large and strong and probably looked fantastic in a tight T-shirt. The angles of his face, though sharp, landed easy on the eyes: knives for cheekbones, ski-slope nose, eyes the color of a foggy day at the beach. And lips. Lips that made me wonder what one kiss would feel like, real or not. The only break from the symmetry was a small scar near his jaw. A jagged slash that looked like it had been deep once upon a time.
As I stared at him with curiosity blossoming somewhere deep in my belly, I noted he was not gazing around the space like someone would upon visiting another’s home, which more likely than not meant he had visited this home before.
He took a step toward me, and I held my ground though reflex told me to step back. I wanted the upper hand.
“Hi,” he said, sounding more uncertain than I expected for a man of his size. “Sorry about that out there. I didn’t mean to slip in front of your neighbor. I’m not your real estate agent. I’m—”
