“Reading time is over.”
He sighed and closed the pink manuscript before turning his beautiful blue-green eyes on me. They were like a sun-sparkled lakeshore. An evil lakeshore, I amended. Probably one infested with piranhas.
“Did you write this?” he asked, lifting it up to his nose to give the papers a sniff. “And is that cinnamon I detect?”
“Potpourri. And no, I didn’t write it.”
“What’s potpourri?”
“Let’s just put it on the list of stuff that’s not your concern.” I wiggled the fingers of my outstretched hand, but as I expected, he didn’t hand the manuscript back. He knew I wanted it, and that was reason enough to be a tease about it. I had just failed the most basic rule of power struggles—the most emotional person in the argument is always the loser.
I took a deep breath. “Sorry, it’s just been a very long day, and now I have twenty strangers in my house. Not that you’d care. You have strangers in and out of your house all the time, am I right?”
“I’m Connor.” He reached out his hand for me to shake, completely ignoring my little dig, and also not returning the manuscript, which was tucked securely under his other arm.
I frowned at his outstretched hand. “I’m not shaking your hand. You’re leaving.”
I expected him to balk, but he stood and handed me the manuscript. “Happy Birthday, Melissa. Sorry I offended you. This is actually pretty good. You should get it published.”
“I didn’t write it. My granny wrote it. Sort of.”
“She sort of wrote it?”
“No. She’s sort of my granny. Never mind. Bye, now.”
My heart gave a little squeeze as he walked past me, accepting my dismissal with no fight. I’d kind of liked our back and forth, but now that it was one-sided, I just felt mean. He’d complimented me and told me happy birthday, and I’d tossed him out. I didn’t like being mean, even to a possible criminal. My bad day wasn’t his fault. Mostly.
Connor stopped at the front door and stepped back suddenly when it opened. My dogs charged inside, followed by Natalya, who still looked like a living Barbie doll despite being windblown and overheated. Every May, Phoenix turned into an oven on broil, and every May it took us all by surprise.
Buster and Sarge came right for me, and I immediately commanded them to sit, which they did, reluctantly. Sarge’s big tail thumped against the wooden floor, and Buster’s wiggly little body turned in three circles before he finally settled.
All the kids in the room came to give the dogs hugs, but despite all that, my attention went back to the doorway where Natalya and Connor were staring each other down, surprise written all over their faces. There was History there, with a capital H, and I needed the details.
“Connor?” Natalya spat out. “What are you doing here? What are all these people doing here?”
“Surprise neighborhood birthday party. They’re all the rage now. How are you, Nat? Long time no see.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m fine. No thanks to you, jerk.”
He glanced back at me as I cautiously approached. “You two aren’t roommates, are you?” he asked, as if that might be the worst possibility in the world.
Natalya’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” She looked mad enough to move in with me immediately just to tick him off. And while I loved Natalya, she was better in smaller doses, like Red Vine licorice. Ten pieces or so was divine. Eating a whole bucket? Not recommended.
“Natalya’s my best friend, but she doesn’t live here. How do you two know each other?”
“We dated,” Connor said, a little bit of guilt coating his words. Interesting. It must have been more than two years ago, because that’s how long Natalya and I had been friends, and I would have remembered him.
It made sense that they would’ve dated. One fair-haired and petite except where it counted, and the other tall, dark, and handsome except for his exceptionally beautiful eyes. What a couple they made.
Around the room, neighbors of ours were watching the conversation play out with way more interest than was probably good for any of us, so I opened the door back up and Connor quickly slipped out and jogged down the porch steps. Natalya and I followed after I closed the door firmly behind us.
“He ghosted me,” Natalya said to me, before turning to Connor and pointing at his retreating back. “And you might not have anything to say for yourself, Connor Harwood, but I’ll tell you this. Stay away from Melissa. She’s been through enough with her fiancé.”
Oh no. Not this. I tried to wave Natalya off at the pass, but she took courage when Connor turned around to face us, looking curious.
“Melissa’s fiancé is in the witness protection program. So, she might look single but she’s not. She’ll never be single.”
I’d never be single? I mentally smacked my forehead and pulled Natalya back towards the party. There were dozens of strangers she hadn’t embarrassed me in front of yet, and even if my next-door neighbor was a jerk and a girlfriend-ghoster, I felt a new level of mortification at her words I couldn’t quite define or understand.
