Page 4 of Make Mine Sweet
How long does he plan on giving us the silent treatment?
“What’s your dog’s name, Mister?” August asks. He hasn’t stopped petting the dog since he got permission. We probably have five minutes before he declares it his new best friend.
At least the dog is friendly. The man’s more likely to growl at us than that dog is.
Ian’s gaze drops down to where August’s sitting on the porch, the dog right next to him exulting in his pets and scratches. The big dog practically vibrates from joy as August strokes its fluffy, mottled brown fur. It’s also got a tongue approximately two feet long and an urge to taste-test anywhere on August he can reach.
“His name’s Dutch.” Ian’s voice comes out gravelly, like he doesn’t use it often.
August lights up. “Like Double Dutch!”
“Or like Arnold Schwarzenegger inPredator,” Ian mutters. He must not appreciate his dog being linked with a kid’s jump rope game instead of a muscled-out action movie hero.
“I haven’t seen that one,” I say.
His gaze hits mine. “Probably not for everybody.”
I’ve never been one for violent, blood-and-guts movies, and I’m pretty sure that one qualifies. “The one where he plays a Kindergarten teacher is probably more my speed.”
I’m guessing. I haven’t actually seen that one, either.
Ian only blinks at that information. All right, moving on.
“I hope Amy didn’t spring us on you.” My awkward laugh grows more shrill when Ian goes on staring blankly. He’s throwing off the opposite of warm fuzzies. Cold pricklies are definitely a thing.
He ticks his head to the side. “It’s her house.”
Yeah. That’s an “I’m not happy about having new neighbors” if I ever heard one. I want to say something reassuring about how we’re all going to get along great…but even I’m not that naive.
“Come on, August.” I can’t spend all day on the porch working up anxiety about the man next door I promised to try to befriend. “Help bring your things inside.”
I unlock the front door and push it open. It’s a simple two-bedroom apartment filled with comfortable furniture. We’re lucky to get it—grumpy neighbor and all.
I send August off to his new room, his excitement echoing around the house, and go back out to my station wagon. I open the hatch, and my heart jumps straight into my throat when Ian appears at my side like a lumbering bear.
I donotscream. I do, however, make a strangled sound I deeply regret.
His eyes rake over me almost like he’s used to startling people. “Amy said I should help.”
Oh. I kind of figured he would ignore that bit of advice. I’m grateful, though—we brought a lot of stuff, and I’m already sweating even though the late-May day isn’t all that hot. “Thanks. Do you mind getting the biggest luggage?”
He hefts the giant bag out of the back as if it’s empty. My bear assessment was pretty spot on.
I grab a couple of smaller pieces of luggage and go into the house. My bedroom is cozy but bright, the orange and blue in the bedspread and rug making it cheery. It’s got a big window that lets in plenty of light. This will be a good place for us.
I refuse to let it be anything else.
I set my bags by the dresser, and Ian does the same with the bigger one. He’s almost comically out of place in the feminine room. If it weren’t for Amy’s vehement reassurance she trusts him implicitly, I might be uncomfortable sharing such a small space with this man.
Might be.A tremor of unease skates through my stomach, despite my friend vouching for him. He’s just so imposing. He’s probably only got a couple of inches on my five-eight frame, but his broad shoulders and bulging biceps are impossible to miss. Not to mention his long red hair and beard and that furrowed brow telegraphing his displeasure.
“Is your apartment decorated pretty much the same?” Amy and Jodi used to let both units out as short-term rentals, which is why they’re fully furnished. It’s hard to imagine him in an equally colorful room. Pretty sure he favors things like Stormcloud Gray and Bleak Black.
His gaze cuts my way, skating over me as though he’s trying not to acknowledge my presence. “No.”
He shuffles out again. Okay. This is going…not great. But I can do this. I’m the go-to for dealing with grumpy customers at the bakery. Mostly because if my sister, Wren, has to handle them, she grouses back. Someone has to grin and bear it in retail.
I go out to the car for the next round, passing August, who’s given up on his unloading duties. He’s snuggling with Dutch on the porch, no doubt getting covered in dog hair and slobber. But he’s distracted, so I’ll take it.
