Page 22 of Romance and Peppermint Lattes
“Mr. Adams. He promised a bunch of us guys he’d play basketball with us if we’d help unload the truck.”
“Oh. How nice. I’m Maryanne Simpson,” she said, her heart warming at Nolan’s unexpected thoughtfulness.
“Nice to meet you, lady. Now where do you want me to put this?”
Maryanne pointed to the kitchen. “Just put it in the corner over there.” Before she finished, a second and third boy appeared, each hauling boxes.
Maryanne slipped past them and ran down the stairs to the parking area behind the building. Nolan was standing in the back of Carol’s husband’s pickup, noisily distributing cardboard boxes and dire warnings. He didn’t see her until she moved closer. When he did, he fell silent, a frown on his face.
“Hi,” she said, feeling a little shy. “I came to thank you.”
“You shouldn’t have gone up and left the truck unattended,” he barked, still frowning. “Anyone could’ve walked off with this stuff.”
“We just arrived.”
“We?”
“Carol Riverside and me. She’s upstairs trying to regain her breath. How long will it be before the elevator’s fixed?”
“Not soon.”
She nodded. Well, if he’d hoped to discourage her, she wasn’t going to let him. So what if she had to walk up four flights of stairs every day! It was wonderful aerobic exercise. In the past she’d paid good money to attend a health club for the same purpose.
Nolan returned to his task, lifting boxes and handing them to a long line of teenage boys.“I’m surprised you didn’t have a moving company manage this for you.”
“Are you kidding?” she joked. “Only rich people use moving companies.”
“Is this all of it, or do you need to make a second trip?”
“This is it. Carol and I put everything else in storage earlier this morning. It’s only costing me a few dollars a month. I have to be careful about money now, you know.”
He scowled again. “When do you start with the cleaning company?”
“Monday morning.”
Nolan placed his hands on his hips and glared down at her. “If you’re really intending to take that job—”
“Of course I am!”
“Then the first thing you’ll need to do is ask for a raise.”
“Oh, honestly, Nolan,” she protested, walking backward. “I can’t do that!”
“What you can’t do is live on that amount of money, no matter how well you budget,” he muttered. He leapt off the back of the truck as agilely as a cat. “Will you listen to me for once?”
“I am listening,” she said. “It just so happens I don’t agree. Quit worrying about me, would you? I’m going to be perfectly all right, especially once I start selling articles.”
“I’m not a knight in shining armor, understand?” he shouted after her. “If you think I’ll be racing to your rescue every time you’re in trouble, then you need to think again.”
“You’re insulting me by even suggesting I’d accept your help.” She tried to be angry with him but found it impossible. He might insist she was entirely on her own, but all the while he was lecturing her he was doling out her boxes so she wouldn’t have to haul them up the stairs herself. Nolan might claim not to be a knight riding to her rescue, but he was behaving suspiciously like one.
Two hours later, Maryanne was alone in her new apartment for the first time. Standing in the middle of her living room, she surveyed her kingdom. As she’d told Carol, it wasn’t so bad. Boxes filled every bit of available space, but it wouldn’t take her long to unpack and set everything in order.
She was grateful for the help Carol, Nolan and the neighborhood teenagers had given her, but now it was up to her. And she had lots of plans—she’d paint the walls and put up her pictures and buy some plants—to make this place cheerful and attractive. To turn it into a home.
It was dark before she’d finished unpacking, and by that time she was both exhausted and hungry. Actuallyfamishedmore adequately described her condition. Her hunger and exhaustion warred with each other: she was too tired to go out and buy herself something to eat, but too hungry to go to bed without eating. Making the decision about which she should do created a dilemma of startling proportions.
She’d just decided to make do with a bowl of cornflakes, without milk, when there was a loud knock at her door. She jerked it open to find Nolan there, wearing grey sweatpants and a sweat-soaked T-shirt. He held a basketball under one arm and clutched a large white paper sack in his free hand.
