Second: said woman was completely, utterly, spectacularly naked.
Third: said woman had tattoos. Alotof tattoos. And was… oh God, oh God, don't look…
"Jesus Christ!" The woman jumped backward, slamming one hand against the doorframe. "What the hell?"
"I'm so sorry!" Annabelle whirled around, basket clutched to her chest like a shield, her face burning hot enough to roastchestnuts. "I knocked! I did knock! The door opened, and I thought…"
"You thought you'd just waltz into a stranger's house?"
"No! Well, yes, but not like… I was bringing a welcome basket. I'm your neighbor, I just wanted to…"
"To get an eyeful?"
"No!" Annabelle's voice came out as a squeak. The tattoos had been very detailed. Very…artistic. She absolutely had not been looking. Except she had, obviously, because how could you not when someone was standing right there, dripping wet and… and naked and, well, quite… rather… fit. The word seemed weak but Annabelle didn’t dare think of another.
"Christ, hang on." There was rustling behind her, and Annabelle stared resolutely at the wall, studying a small crack in the plaster as if it were the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen. "All right, I'm decent. Sort of."
Annabelle turned slowly. The woman had wrapped a towel around herself, a very small towel that left very little to the imagination. She was taller than Annabelle by about two inches, with dark hair plastered to her skull and water droplets tracking down her shoulders. Her face was flushed with what Annabelle desperately hoped was just the heat from the shower and not incandescent rage.
Actually, scratch that. The expression on the woman's face was definitely rage. Annabelle’s stomach clenched.
"I am so sorry," Annabelle said again, the words tumbling over each other. "I promise I'm not a complete lunatic, I'm Annabelle Swift, I teach at the primary school, I live just next door, and I made you lemon biscuits because I always make lemon biscuits for new neighbors, and I brought jam and some honey from Arty at the pub, and I know you probably think I'm completely mad but I promise this is normal, well, normal for Bankton, and…"
"Are you having me on?"
"What?"
"Is this a joke?" The woman gestured at the basket, then at herself, then at the door. "Did someone put you up to this?"
"No! I just wanted to welcome you to the village!"
"By breaking into my house?"
"I didn't break in! I knocked three times, and the door opened, and the music was so loud…"
"So you thought you'd investigate?" The woman's voice dripped with sarcasm. "What, did you think I'd collapsed in the shower? Needed rescuing?"
"I thought I was being neighborly!"
"Neighborly." The woman repeated the word like it tasted bad. "Right. Because this is exactly what normal neighbors do. Just wander into stranger's homes uninvited."
"The door was open!"
"That doesn't make it an invitation!"
They stared at each other. Water dripped from the woman's hair onto the hardwood floor, forming a small puddle. Annabelle clutched the basket so tightly the gingham cloth was probably permanently wrinkled.
"I really am sorry," Annabelle tried again, aiming for her best calming-down-upset-children voice. "This has gotten off to an absolutely terrible start, and I take full responsibility. I should have waited until you answered the door properly. I just got excited about having a new neighbor, and—"
"Excited." The woman laughed, but it wasn't a kind sound. "Brilliant. That's exactly what I need. An excited neighbor who doesn't understand basic boundaries."
Annabelle felt something twist in her chest. She was used to people finding her a bit much, Lily teased her about it constantly, but this felt different. Meaner.
"I'll just go then," she said quietly, setting the basket on the floor by the door. "The biscuits are quite good, even if you don't want to talk to me. And welcome to Bankton. I hope you… settle in well."
She turned to leave.
"Wait."
