I take his card information and store it on my phone. I’ll get these things for him, but I can’t stick around to help him decorate. It’s one thing to hate fuck. It’s a whole other thing to play house.
Several hours later, I’m walking to his apartment again, bags in my hands and feeling content. I do enjoy shopping for others, not just sexy football players with talented cocks.
Growing up in my mother’s antiques store, I had a front-row seat to customers breaking into tears when my mom found some long-lost family artifact or the missing piece to a cherished collection.
My uncle Spencer was her grumpy mentor, and when I got older, he taught me how to tell if items were real or fake. He showed me signatures to look for and various telltale details the true masters used.
I tagged along with them to events where they would meet the public and give appraisals on heirlooms or collections or items found in attics and garages. I would get as excited as the people waiting to hear my mom or Spencer’s final verdict.
I’m at Knox’s front door when I realize I haven’t met Stan the Man-ny yet, and he probably won’t let me in the building.
“Oh, well,” I sigh under my breath as I press all the buttons again.
Again, the buzzer sounds, unlocking the front door, and Ienter, shaking my head. Knox is going to have to do something about his neighbor.
It’s not as easy to get into Knox’s apartment, however, with Stan on guard, which makes me feel a lot better. Not that I need to be worried about Knox’s security. He’s not my boyfriend.
I show him Knox’s credit card information and the picture we took last night in bed, that I also took to the Walgreen’s and made into a print, for Stan to relent and let me through the door.
“I’ll speak to Mr. Bradford about making a list of approved visitors,” he says, leading me into the kitchen, carrying Cricket on his hip. “It was my understanding this situation was top secret.”
“It is, I’m sorry.” I carry the bags as I follow, marveling at what a professional baby-handler looks like. “I wasn’t planning to be back today, but I had to drop off all this stuff.”
Cricket looks back at me, and she smiles, making a little squealing noise. Then she pats Stan’s arm and gives me her signatureBa!—still unclear what that means.
It makes me smile, and I shake my head at her, wrinkling my nose. She’s such a cutie.
Stan puts her in a round, plastic contraption with wheels and a seat suspended in the middle, and she takes off walking at top speed.
“Wow!” I step back, letting her pass. “Where did that come from?”
“Mr. Bradford’s cousin, I presume. I found the box leaning against the wall in the living room.”
“It smells so fresh in here!” I turn to him with wide eyes. “No Stinkbalm required.”
“Diaper Genie.” He points to a tall, plastic container shaped like a tube. “Wraps up the dirty diapers and seals in the odor.”
“I tell ya, Stan, whatever he’s paying you, you’re worth every penny.”
The manny lifts his chin, preening as he returns to the kitchen. “I’m preparing Miss Christine’s dinner. I assume you know your way around?”
“Oh, right.” I snap back to the bags in my hands. “I’ll just drop these off then I’ll be on my way. It’s really nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Dunne.”
I quickly go to Knox’s bedroom to deposit the picture frames. Hesitating, I decide to put the picture of the three of us in the one with the alligator. Turning it over, I’m thwarted by a plastic tab holding the back securely in place.
“Dangit,” I whisper, opening a drawer and looking for a knife or scissors to cut it.
Sliding my hand through sheets of paper, I hesitate when I see what looks like a story or a list written on one.
It’s a short column of words, and my eyes read them before I can help myself.
You upend melike a hurricane over the Gulf.like a riptide carrying me out to sea.
Like fourth and long, the whole stadium screaming my name.
I’m terrified because one mistake could cost everything.
