Page 15 of Romance and Peppermint Lattes
“Now did you or did you not find me a furnished studio apartment to look at this afternoon?” Maryanne pressed.
“I found one. It’s nothing like you’re used to, so be prepared. I’ll take you there once we’re finished lunch.”
“Tell me about it,” Maryanne said eagerly.
“There’s one main room, small kitchen, smaller bathroom, tiny closet, no dishwasher.” He paused as if he expected her to jump to her feet and tell him the whole thing was off.
“Go on,” she said, reaching for her soda.
“The floors are pretty worn but they’re hardwood.”
“That’ll be nice.” She didn’t know if she’d ever lived in a place that didn’t have carpeting, but she’d adjust.
“The furniture’s solid enough. It’s old and weighs a ton, but I don’t know how comfortable it is.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll be working just about every day, so I can’t see that there’ll be a problem,” Maryanne returned absently. As soon as she’d spoken, she realized her mistake.
Nolan stabbed his spoon into the chili. “You seem to have forgotten you’re resuming your job hunt. You won’t be working for Rent-A-Maid, and that’s final.”
“You sound like a parent again. I’m old enough to know what I can and can’t do, and I’m going to take that job whether you like it or not, andthat’s final.”
His eyes narrowed. “We’ll see.”
“Yes, we will,” she retorted. Nolan might be an astute journalist, but there were several things he had yet to learn abouther, and one of them was her stubborn streak. The thought produced a small smile as she realized she was thinking of him in a way that suggested a long-term friendship. He was right when he said they stood on opposite sides of the fence on most issues. He was also right when he claimed they had no business being friends. Nevertheless, Nolan Adams was the most intriguing man she’d ever met.
Once they’d finished their meal, Nolan reached for the bill, but Maryanne insisted on splitting it. He clearly wasn’t pleased about that but let it pass. Apparently he wasn’t going to argue with her, which suited Maryanne just fine. He escorted her to his car, parked outside the diner, and Maryanne slid inside, absurdly pleased that he’d cleaned up the front seat for her.
Nolan hesitated when he joined her, his hands on the steering wheel. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
“Positive.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.” His mouth twisted. “I can’t believe I’m aiding and abetting this nonsense.”
“You’re my friend, and I’m grateful.”
Without another word, he started the engine.
“Where’s the apartment?” Maryanne asked as the car progressed up the steep Seattle hills. “I mean, what neighborhood?”
“Capitol Hill.”
“Oh, how nice. Isn’t that the same part of town you live in?” It wasn’t all that far from The Seattle, either, which meant she’d still have the same telephone exchange. Maybe she could even keep her current number.
“Yes,” he muttered. He didn’t seem to be in the mood for conversation and kept his attention on his driving, instead. He pulled into a parking lot behind an eight-storey post–World War II brick building. “The apartment’s on the fourth floor.”
“That’ll be fine.” She climbed out of the car and stared at the old structure. The Dumpster was backed against the walland full to overflowing. Maryanne had to step around it before entering by a side door. Apparently there was no elevator, and by the time they reached the fourth floor she was so winded she couldn’t have found the breath to complain, anyway.
“The manager gave me the key,” Nolan explained as he paused in the hallway and unlocked the second door on the right. Nolan wasn’t even breathing hard, while Maryanne was leaning against the wall, dragging deep breaths into her oxygen-starved lungs.
Nolan opened the door and waved her in. “As I said, it’s not much.”
Maryanne walked inside and was struck by the sparseness of the furnishings. One overstuffed sofa and one end table with a lamp on a dull stained-wood floor. She blinked, squared her shoulders and forced a smile to her lips. “It’s perfect.”
“You honestly think you can live here after The Seattle?” He sounded incredulous.
“Yes, I do,” she said with a determination that would’ve made generations of Simpsons proud. “How far away is your place?”
Nolan walked over to the window, his back to her. He exhaled sharply before he announced, “I live in the apartment next door.”
