Page 21 of Unexpected Love
“Jules,” I blurt, and she pauses.
“Be careful walking home in the dark. I’d walk you back, but I’m scared to leave Charlie after the stunt my sister pulled.” I can’t help myself. Where I come from, it’s dangerous for a woman to be walking alone after dark. It’d be nice if the balcony we share wasn’t blocked off; then she could easily go from one apartment to the other.
She opens the door and looks back at me over her shoulder. “I’ll be fine. It’s literally around the back of the building. I have to go that way every time I park my car.” She watches me for a second and then gives me an eye roll. “Fine. I’ll give you two taps on the wall when I get in.”
I wait a ridiculously long time, it feels like, but is probably less than a few minutes, before two gentle raps sound. Then I let out a breath and shut down the apartment for the night. If today was any indication of my new schedule, Charlie will be up at the ass crack of dawn.
The weight of the situation bears down on me. I’ve got a tiny human sleeping in the next room. I have no idea how to care for her. I have no idea how long she’ll be here. And I have no idea how I can go back to work.
But for now, I need sleep. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll figure everything else out.
Chapter 8
Jules
“So last night was interesting,” I tell Lissette as I’m hauling cans of paint from the back of my car into the new shop. I’ve got my cell phone propped between my ear and my shoulder while I unload.
“Do tell.”
“I met my new neighbor.”
“Oh, really? How’d that go?”
“Turns out, we kind of know him. He’s a firefighter. Came in with those guys a couple of days ago. Sat with Chief Hawkins. The one with the kid.”
“Oh, really? Any potential?” Leave it to Lissette to immediately forgive all the ways we’ve been pranking each other and immediately ship us.
The irony that she’s so quick to jump to a relationship-potential discussion but refuses to read a romance is not lost on me. Still, I ponder her question, making a mental list of pros and cons. In the pros column, he’s incredibly handsome. He seems like a nice guy who’s maybe had a bad run of luck lately. We had incredible chemistry standing in his kitchen. I could’ve sworn his gaze was a physical touch as hestalked into my apartment when I’d taken the crying baby from him.
In the cons list, he has a kid. I’ve known him to be cheap, gauging by the way his friends called him out on ditching a tab. He could possibly be a player. Lord knows he’s got the looks for it. And that motorcycle parked in the alley screams bad boy. But the main thing is that he’s got drama and responsibilities that I want no part of.
“Meh, he’s got a kid.”
Lissette hums an affirmative in my ear as I head back out to where I’ve parked my car in the loading zone in front of the shop.
“Morning.” A young woman smiles and waves at me from across the street. I smile and wave back before she walks into a store directly across from me and flips the closed sign to open. A neon sign in swooping lettering comes to life announcing Sticky Sweet Bakery.
“So there’s a bakery across the street,” I tell Lissette as I pull bags of painting supplies out of my trunk, setting them on the sidewalk.
“Oh, you need to go meet her and see about doing some trading,” she says. “Maybe we could come up with some plans for both locations. I’d love to get a new vendor in here.”
I grind my teeth a tad because she’s trying to insert herself into my gig. But instead of calling her on it, I say, “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to. I knew the shop was there when I decided on this location.” I return and haul another load. I know I need to talk to Lissette and create some boundaries. But there hasn’t been a good opportunity. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to the owner, but there’s gotta be a way to make this work for both of us.”
I slam the trunk shut, hoping to move out of thisnegative spiral about the conversations Lissette and I need to have.
“Morning,” a deep male voice that may or may not have starred in my dreams overnight says.
I pop up and nearly drop the phone. “Hi.”
What I’ve failed to notice before is how rumbly his voice is. Is it always this deep and husky? Or is it only in the morning? And why haven’t I paid attention? “Uh, Lissette, I need to let you go.”
“Is that the neighbor? Girl. That voice…” My best friend is a horndog for a guy with a good voice. But in this case, she’s not wrong.
A thousand dirty things he could say pop into my mind, many of them involving praise and possession.
“I’ll call you back.” I hang up on her before she can say another word.
“Do you need some help?” Charlie is sitting on his hip, looking adorable in a pink romper. Her hair’s a mess, her curls standing up all over her head. She’s got a smudge of something on her forehead, like he tried to wipe her face but lost the battle of sticky fingers.
