The Man Next Door. Gina Wilkins
“Yeah. I was lucky to spot it before someone else did. The lady I bought it from said she forgot to set it out earlier. It could stand to be refinished eventually, but I think it looks fine for now.”
Carrying the chair toward the building entrance, Teague asked, “Do you shop at garage sales often?”
She shrugged, following him to the elevator. “I’ve found a few bargains that way. I don’t have a lot of extra money for decorating right now, so garage sales are a good resource.”
“Your apartment looks nice. Wherever you shop, you choose nice things.”
“Thanks.” The offhanded compliment pleased her more than it should have. “My sister’s the one with the decorating talent. Maybe I picked up a few tips from her along the way.”
“Or maybe you have talent of your own,” he suggested, hauling the rocker into the elevator.
She laughed when he set the chair down and took a seat as the elevator rose. “Comfy?”
“Mmm.” He yawned and rocked slowly. “I could probably take a nap right here.”
“You do look tired,” she commented, studying the shadows beneath his closed eyes.
“Thanks a lot,” he murmured without lifting his lids.
“I haven’t seen you around for the past week.”
“Been working out of town. Got back late last night.”
He looked really good sitting in her rocker with his eyes closed, his jeaned legs stretched out in front of him, hands crossed on his stomach. She had to clear her throat silently before asking, “Where have you been?”
“Oh. You know. I could tell you, but then—”
She rolled her eyes. “You’d have to kill me,” she said, completing the tired, overused joke.
“No. I was going to say, but then you’d have to pretend to be interested,” he said, opening his eyes with a smart-aleck grin.
She laughed as the elevator doors opened. “So, when you’re finished with your nap, would you mind bringing the chair to my place?”
He sighed heavily and lumbered to his feet, hoisting the rocking chair up again while she held the elevator doors open.
“Where do you want it?” he asked when she opened her apartment door.
“Just set it in that corner,” she said, pointing. “I’ll decide exactly where I want it later.”
“No problem.” He deposited the chair, then headed for the door. “See you later, Dani.”
“Can I offer you a soft drink or anything before you go?” she asked. “As a thank-you for bringing up my chair?”
“I’ll take a rain check, if you don’t mind. I’ve got plans for tonight and I need to clean up first.”
“Okay. Well…thank you.”
He shot her a smile. “You’re welcome.”
He let himself out.
Dani sat in the rocking chair, stroking her hands down the worn-smooth maple arms. It was only her imagination, of course, that the seat was still warm from Teague sitting in it.
She wondered about his plans for the evening. Was he working again? Or socializing? Was he seeing someone? Someone he considered less “high maintenance” than her? Someone who could enjoy his company without worrying about getting too deeply involved, or losing herself in a one-sided relationship?
She released a long, slightly wistful sigh, then pushed herself to her feet. She had a small steak in the fridge. She’d bought it on sale yesterday, and she had planned a special dinner for herself tonight. The steak, a baked potato and a crisp salad—a real treat considering her limited food budget. A feast for one, of which she intended to savor every bite. Without once thinking about Teague.
Okay, so maybe the latter was improbable, she thought ruefully, opening the refrigerator door. But she’d try to enjoy her meal anyway.
* * *
“Great party, huh?”
Looking up from the single can of beer he’d been nursing for the past half hour, Teague nodded in response to Mike’s shouted question. Then he leaned closer to his friend to ask, “Does it mean I’m getting old if I say that I wish they’d turn the music down a little?”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what it means,” Mike said with a laugh, leaning against the arched doorway that separated the living room from the formal dining room of the home in which the party was being held. The house was owned by Pete Schram, a lawyer who did some work for the FBI, and Pete’s girlfriend, an up-and-coming fashion designer who answered only to the name of “Z.” Z liked to entertain, and Pete indulged her by cohosting parties at least once a month. Teague had dropped in on a few, finding them always loud, frenetic, cheerful, exhausting. More so the latter tonight, since he was already tired, anyway.
He shouldn’t have come, really. Not after the week he’d put in on the job. But he’d found himself contemplating an evening alone in front of the TV, followed by turning in early, and that had made him feel even older than his wish that someone would turn the music down. Besides, if he’d sat at home, he’d find himself thinking too much about Dani, which was a bad habit he’d gotten into lately. He really needed to spend some time with another woman.
“Hey, isn’t that Kelly Something-or-other over there? The one you went out with a couple of times last spring?”
Looking in the direction of Mike’s nod, Teague spotted the curvy blonde smiling back at him from the other side of the room. “Callie, not Kelly. And yeah, she and I have been out a few times.”
Memorable times, he added silently. Callie’s one goal in life was to have a good time, making sure everyone around her did, as well. He’d always had fun with Callie, but that had been the extent of their relationship. She had a well-known aversion to permanent commitments, and he hadn’t been looking for anything more than someone to relax with between assignments. They had served each other’s purposes quite well while they’d been together.
Maybe tonight was the time for them to reconnect. He had a couple days off, and she looked amenable. Callie would keep him too occupied for a few days to think about…well, anyone else.
Or would she? Sending her a smile in return, he turned slightly away, breaking the eye contact. No need to rush into anything this evening. Especially since he wasn’t at all sure he wouldn’t be thinking about someone else even if he was with Callie.
“So, aren’t you going over there?” Mike prodded.
“I don’t think so tonight. I’m just back from that mess in Texarkana. I’m thinking about going home and crashing.”
“Oh, man.” His friend studied his face with a frown. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you? The princess.”
It wasn’t the first time Mike had brought Dani up since Teague had carelessly mentioned her that afternoon at the office. Mike seemed to think Teague was developing a thing for Dani, despite Teague’s assurances that he wasn’t that masochistic.
“I’m just tired,” Teague argued. “Didn’t you just agree that I’m getting older?”
“Not that old. And you haven’t been acting quite right since that day I caught you grinning to yourself about something the princess said.”
“Stop calling her that, okay?”
“You were the one who described her that way,” Mike reminded him. “Hot, but high maintenance, I think you said. Have you changed your mind?”
After a momentary pause, Teague shrugged. “Well no, not exactly. But she’s not so bad, really.”