Page 62 of Mr. Wrong Number

To make it worse, I was wearing my old softball pants because I saw them in the box and remembered how comfortable they were and wanted to see if they still fit.

“Who is it?” I stood and tried gauging how long it would take for me to sprint up to the loft and change my pants really fast. Colin had said he wasn’t coming by, and no one besides my brother and Dana even knew where I lived.

“It’s Colin.”

Of course it is.“If you’ve come looking for gratitudial favors, just keep walking.”

“I brought bedding.”

I undid the locks and opened the door a crack, leaving on the chain. He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans and—holy shit—those glasses. It was like he was trying to look like a hot nerd or something. I said, “Bedding for my bed?”

He tilted his head. “What else would I bring bedding for?”

Dear Lord.“Hang on.”

I shut the door and started undoing the chain. “You need to promise not to say anything about the way I look.”

“This should be good.”

I pulled the door open, and his face immediately split into a wide grin. “Well, what do we have here?”

“Bite me.”

He walked into the apartment with an armful of bedding, his eyes all over me as he grinned like I was a moron. “Whatisthis, though? Like... Cher meets Taylor Swift...?”

“Cher?” I grabbed the pile from his hands and set them on the island. “What part of this says Cher?”

He put his lips together as if trying to stop himself from smiling. “I just thought all the makeup and...”

He gestured to my hair and face.

“Whatever.” I put my hands on my hips and tried for thecool I would surely exude if I weren’t wearing softball pants and a Coors Extra bro tank. “So do you want to see it?”

He gave a little laugh and his eyes dipped over me, but this time I felt it. This time it was flirty, not mocking. “Oh, yeah.”

There was a lot in hisoh, yeah, but I chose to ignore it. “Grab the beer out of the fridge and you can come help me make the bed.”

I didn’t even look at his face as I grabbed the stack of sheets and went upstairs. I hadn’t meant it to sound suggestive and had no idea why I’d invited him to help me make my bed. What the hell even was that? Thankfully he had no comment, and I heard the refrigerator open, so I knew he was actually obeying.

When we got upstairs, I was a little embarrassed that there was an empty beer can on the floor beside the bed and an open box of Froot Loops. I was tempted to kick them into the closet, but it’s not like my bad habits were any secret to Colin.

I set the stack of sheets on the half wall that overlooked the rest of the apartment, and ran my hand over the pristine whiteness of the fabric. “Oh, my God, Beck, are these sheets linen?”

He emerged from the last stair and—oh, mama—his handsomeness took the air out of my lungs. Something about those tortoiseshell glasses on the bridge of that strong nose really worked for me.

“So what?”

That made me smile. “So you’re such a diva, Beck.”

His mouth was firm but his eyes were amused. “It’s summer, Liv—linen is perfect. Light and breathable so you don’t get hot, but they feel heavier than a traditional sheet. You’ll love them.”

I knew he was right, because I’d lied; when he’d gone to Boston, Ihadslept under his covers. I hadn’t known it was because of the sheets, but I’d been enamored with the feel of the cool bedding on my skin. “I promise to return them after I buy some.”

I’d ordered a sofa and a TV from Amazon earlier in the day, so why not add bedding? I had a stable job now, after all.

“Consider them a gift. I washed them after I bought the set, but they’ve never been used.”

“Um, thanks.” I unfolded the bottom sheet—of course Colin had folded it perfectly—and shook it out. “But I’m still not sure why you’re doing these nice things for me. It’s so unlike you that I’m a little terrified.”

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