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  “Water,” she managed to get out.

  He dashed into the kitchen, but he came back with milk instead. She wasn’t about to question him, though. She took the glass and poured some into her mouth, holding it there to soothe the burn. Then she set her glass down on the table with a bang.

  “Thanks for that.”

  “Milk is better than water, chemically speaking. The water just spreads it around.”

  “Pretty resourceful given you didn’t know where it was.”

  He shrugged. “I figured the fridge was a good place to start. We look out for each other.”

  We do apparently. “Where was I?” she asked.

  “Choking on peppers?”

  They both laughed.

  “I’m not sure what to suggest, apart from sticking with it,” he said at last. “Something’s got to crack, and as long as it isn’t you, I think you’ll come out on top.” His tone was genuine and reassuring. It felt like listening to a hug.

  “Thanks. That helps. It’s nice to hear that someone believes in me. Other than myself, of course. Also, I’m full. It’s pretty filling.”

  “Me too. Should we move back to the couch?”

  They stood, and she closed the container. Plenty of leftovers. She might take it to work the next day instead of ordering another sandwich.

  He reached for the bottle and noticed there was only enough for one more glass. He said he’d be back in a few minutes, and he went to fetch another bottle. She watched him walk to her door. Normally, she’d object, especially given what all had happened lately, but she was already home, and he was only a few steps away from his.

  She wasn’t sure if it was the wine, or the result of finally feeling relaxed, but she’d never noticed just how strong his shoulders were, the way his muscles curved around to hug his body.

  Branson, you’d better hurry back before I get lost in a daydream.

  There was a knock at the door, even though it was still unlocked. She went to open the door and discovered that his hands were full. He had a bottle of wine and a bag of corn chips. He grinned and stepped inside.

  “I know we said we’re both full, but I figured we might need snacks,” he said. “I get the feeling this might be a long conversation.”

  “That’s terrible! We couldn’t eat another bite.”

  He smiled. “I know. Let’s be bad together.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Oh, you have no idea. This time chips, and the next time cookies.”

  “You had me at cookies, crazy man.”

  He walked back to the couch while she went to the kitchen to get a large bowl for the chips. He popped open the bag and poured them out.

  “Right,” he said, making himself comfortable. “Anything else to say about this crummy job of yours?”

  She gestured to the chips. “From the look of what you’ve brought, you’re expecting me to say yes and complain half the night. Oh, is there chocolate, too?”

  “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t bring you chocolate?” he asked, holding up a package of candy-coated chocolate.

  Nicole grinned at him. “You might actually be a keeper.”

  “It’s true. I’m a gem.”

  “Just hand me the chocolate, Gem.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Very funny,” she said. “I’m not your school teacher.”

  “What are you then?”

  His green eyes had a sparkle to them, but she couldn’t tell if he was teasing or wholly serious. She scanned his expression but nothing gave up any clues. She could say the wrong thing here and ruin the evening completely, if not more. She had to choose her words carefully.

  “I’m not quite sure.”

  He looked away, and she could already tell that was the wrong answer, whatever it was.

  “I’m too special to fit into a category,” she continued with a weak smile. Not much better, but it would have to do.

  If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it, and she tried not to put her own feelings on display, either. As he’d said, she just needed to stick with it. Something would crack—and she hoped it wouldn’t be her heart.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day at work, Nicole hardly noticed how quiet it was in her office. There wasn’t time. Everybody seemed to need her for something. Afterward, she decided to walk home. The weather was overcast but pleasant, and soon it would be too cold to enjoy the fresh air.

  By the time she finally reached the outside of the apartment complex, she’d realized walking hadn’t been such a wise idea. For a woman who was smart, clever, and resourceful, she’d made the wrong choice that day, giving herself just what she didn’t need.

  Her feet ached, and even before she was inside the apartment building, she took one of her shoes off and leaned against the stone wall to rub her heel. Then she slipped her shoe back on and noticed a very handsome Branson sitting in his bay window.

  She hadn’t looked up toward his apartment on purpose. Just then, she was more concerned about the sky. The clouds had grown darker, and thunder rumbled in the background. She was just grateful that something had gone right. She’d managed to stay clear of the rain.

  She reached into her bag and rummaged around for her keys. Then she looked in her coat pockets. A few drops of rain began falling even as she realized she’d grabbed the wrong bag from her office. Her key was still there, a dozen blocks and six stories away. She was having the worst key luck lately.

  I’m not walking back there.

  It started. The deluge of rain she thought she’d avoided hit her with full force. It began pelting her on the head, the apartment entrance facing the worst possible direction to shield her. She covered her face with one hand while she hit the buzzer to Branson’s apartment. The outside door was locked, and without a key, she was stuck.

  “Branson,” she shouted, holding her finger on the yellow button.

  There was no response. For every second that passed, she was getting wetter.

  “Branson,” she said. She pushed the button again and was halfway to screaming.

  “Can you—”

  “What is it?” his voice said, not sounding nearly as concerned as he should be. Didn’t he realize she was out in the rain?

  “I don’t have my key. Can you open the door, please? It’s raining cats and dogs out here.”

  “Did you lose your key again?”

  “I left it at work.” She knew he probably figured the canopy over the door was keeping her dry, but the rain was coming in at an angle, and she was soaked through. The rain made her feel like the universe was pouring a bucket of water on her head. “If you don’t open the door, I’ll be able to swim up to your apartment.”

  “Hang on. Give me a second.”

  She looked up, but he wasn’t at his window anymore. Good. Hopefully that meant she’d be let inside soon.

  The door made the electronic sound that meant welcome and warmth, and she pushed the door open. Once she was inside, she called Charlie, the apartment caretaker.

  “Hello,” he said, sounding like he answered from inside a sink cabinet.

  “Hi, it’s Nicole Robbins. I left my keys at work. Do you think you can come and open the door for me? My friend, who also lives here, has one, but she’s working late tonight.”

  “I can, but I’m right in the middle of fixing the plumbing on another floor. I can probably be there in about an hour.” That meant it would likely be two hours or more before he could help her. Her day was getting better and better.

  “Yes, thank you for your help. If I’m not standing at the door, I’ll be at this number.”

  She slipped off her shoes. Water puddled around her feet. Ceramic tiles and water didn’t mix very well. That was a lesson she’d learned when she’d first moved into the apartment. A nice big bruise on her hip had occurred that day, courtesy of landing on the floor. Much like the ones I’m sporting now.

  Carefully, she padded up the stairs to her floor. She slopped her
way along the corridor, leaving a trail of water behind her. When she rounded the corner, Branson was standing there in a snug T-shirt and a pair of surfing shorts. He looked quite dry.

  “What happened to you?” he asked.

  “Mistakes have been made. I’m drowned.”

  He looked puzzled. “Are you really? I never thought drowned people could talk.”

  “Fine. I’m not drowned, but that’s how I feel.”

  She leaned against the wall across from her door. She wasn’t going to ask him if she could wait at his place. She’d already troubled him enough, and she didn’t want to always be that person—the one who needed help every time he turned around.

  A silence fell over them, and the hallway was quiet for a moment. She found herself looking at him again, even as he kept his gaze on the floor.

  “I left my key at the office,” she said. “I’ve had a lot of key issues this month apparently.”

  “It seems so.”

  She felt like she was going to turn into an ice block. She didn’t want to say anything, but she thought he could at least ask her in. “Before I forget, thanks for making me wait in the rain.”

  “I didn’t realize it was raining at first. I had my headphones on. They were turned up enough where I couldn’t hear much else.”

  She decided she might as well ask. “Any chance I can wait at your place until Charlie gets here? You know, the usual?”

  The smile he gave her made her feel warm, despite how wet she was. “Of course. Where are my manners? Come on in. I’ll get a towel for you to stand on.”

  She centered herself on the welcome mat and attempted to remove her jacket while he went for the towel. When she’d seen rain and a cooler day in the forecast, she had the foresight to bring a jacket, but not an umbrella for some reason. Everything was so wet that her arm got stuck halfway, and when he returned, she felt like a crab.

  “I’m stuck.”

  He threw the towel on the floor and helped her free herself from her drenched coat. He gently wrung it out and draped it over the back of his recliner. “The bathroom’s that way,” he said, gesturing toward the hallway. “Second door on the…”

  “Thanks. My apartment’s the same.” She thought it was kind of sweet that he’d forgotten, as though he was flustered by being around her. Maybe that was it.

  She walked across the gray-and-silver flecked tiles and pushed open the bathroom door. She stopped when she saw what was inside.

  “Branson, the tub’s running,” she shouted over her shoulder.

  He called back that it was for her. For a moment, she stood there, realizing just how thoughtful he was. Even when he’d been out in the hallway, worrying about how to ask her in, the water had been running for her bath. That had to be the case, because it was almost full.

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s fine. I was thinking it’ll at least warm you up. If you want one of my T-shirts to wear after, let me know. The door locks from the inside, if you like. Don’t worry. I’m a perfect gentleman.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  That was nice of him. She scrunched her nose. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about taking a bath in the same apartment as a guy she was interested in. They hadn’t exactly known each other forever. On the other, that was a considerate gesture, especially after it seemed like he’d given her a hard time on the front doorstep. Ultimately, the inviting bath looked too nice to pass up.

  She locked the door, then ran her fingers through the hot water. She looked around, half-hoping there was bubble bath solution. That would’ve been heavenly.

  No bubble bath, which made sense considering it was a bachelor pad. She settled with sudsing up some of his soap. She figured he wouldn’t mind. The suds didn’t last long with his harsh man-soap, but she made do.

  She slipped out of her pencil skirt, which was much easier said than done. She began dropping it all in the sink where it could drip and drain while she soaked. They wouldn’t be completely dry afterward, but certainly more so than when she started.

  She stepped over the cast-iron side and into the tub. Her toe broke the surface of the lightly bubbled water, and the heat rushed through her skin. It began causing prickles in her feet as warmth met cold. She lowered herself in until she could rest her head against the back. She closed her eyes, slowly breathing the steam-filled air as it drifted toward the exhaust fan.

  Once she was warm enough, she looked around the bathroom. Everything was in its place, and she was surprised to see the toothpaste tube was squeezed from the bottom rather than the middle. She’d always heard guys didn’t care about that.

  But this is Branson. He wasn’t quite like any guy she’d ever met before. He was a walking contradiction in many ways.

  She closed her eyes again while her body grew warmer and her muscles relaxed. It was a feeling she could get used to. What better way to end a hard day’s work than coming home to a relaxing bath? All that was missing were the scented candles and a glass of champagne.

  The water started to cool at last, and she stepped from the tub onto a fluffy bath mat, which was designed to look like a surfer on a massive wave. She liked it. It was the only real hint of the Branson she knew in an otherwise refined bathroom.

  She wrapped a towel around her head and then discovered a clean robe from behind the door. She took it down and wrapped it around her body, lifting the collar up around her chin. She could smell a hint of cologne.

  “I hope he doesn’t mind,” she said to herself. She had to cover her bruises, especially now that they had turned half-purple.

  She drained the water from the tub, then collected her wet clothes. Her bra and panties more than anything. Those she rolled inside her blouse and skirt. Leaving them behind was the last thing she wanted, and she giggled when she imagined it.

  “Thanks for everything,” she said.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “I better get going.” She stood and walked to the door.

  She heard his voice behind her. “You dropped something.”

  She turned around, and he stood there with her…unmentionables dripping all over his floor.

  She shuddered at the thought of such an embarrassment. She gave her clothes an extra roll to make sure they were securely wrapped. Then she opened the bathroom door and heard pots and pans banging in the kitchen. She wondered what he was doing. She didn’t really know much about his life when she wasn’t around.

  She reached the corner to the kitchen and paused. The cold was spreading up through her feet while she watched Branson. She enjoyed being there for a moment without him knowing. He didn’t seem any different, though he didn’t smile as much when he was alone. But that was to be expected.

  She finally spoke. “I’m all finished, and the tub’s empty.”

  “Good. I hope you’re feeling better.”

  What are friends for? She almost dared him to say it. Ultimately, she was glad he didn’t. She watched him hang the last pot, and she could see he’d been doing the dishes.

  He turned to look her way. “Charlie stopped by while you were in the tub. He gave me your key when I said you’re here—I guess that means he trusts me. I had to sign for it, of course. Maybe he thought I should have this copy, given how often you’ve been losing them lately.”

  She wasn’t sure she was ready for that, and she had no intention of misplacing any more keys in the future. She was just relieved that she could now get into her apartment. All she felt like doing was sitting on the couch for a while before having a good night’s sleep. She’d have to heat up a frozen dinner first, but she didn’t feel up to making anything.

  He joined her and ushered her away from the cold tiles to the dining room. She was puzzled until she realized the table was set. Food was steaming away from the pots which sat on wicker coasters.

  “What’s all this?” she asked.

  “It’s Wednesday. You said…” He looked puzzled and a bit disappointed, and she finally remembered. This wa
s the day she’d agreed to have dinner with him, back when they’d only first met, which felt like weeks ago. “If it’s too much, it’s okay. We have been seeing a lot of each other lately, but you seemed exhausted from work, and then the whole rain and key thing happened. I figured, now that you’ve had a soak, the last thing you’d want to do is start cooking, so I thought our date was still on?”

  “It doesn’t feel fair, after everything you’ve already done. It seems like every day this week, you’ve been helping me and—”

  “I’ve enjoyed every minute. Besides, consider the favor you’ve been doing for me. You’re keeping me company in this big, strange city.”

  She couldn’t argue with that and she didn’t really want to disappoint him, so she pulled out a chair. She discovered he could cook, adding that to his list of other perfections. He kept things relaxed as always, but there were times when he looked at her, his expression making it hard to believe he still saw her as just a friend.

  But at last dinner was over. It was time for her to leave. She stood and picked up her clothes and shoes, then she started walking to the door.

  “You forgot something,” she heard from behind her.

  She froze. Not that. She could just picture the garments on the floor, or worse, dangling from his fingers.

  Her arm tightened around her bundle of clothes and she turned. She could feel warmth rise up in her face. He had his hand held behind his back, then slowly moved from around his body to show her what he held in his hand. The suspense was almost too much.

  “You forgot the spare key.”

  Thank goodness.

  Chapter Eight

  “May I have it?” Nicole asked.

  With a grin, Branson stood there with his arm stretched upward, holding it out above his head. She stepped closer and jumped at his arm, but it was no use. He was taller than she was, and he dangled it just out of reach. She grabbed hold of his T-shirt and tried to gain leverage, but she wasn’t gaining much ground.

  She knew it was just a game to him, and honestly, it wasn’t what her day needed. She laughed at herself as she tried to swipe the key from his fingers. If anyone could see them now, they’d think they were acting like a couple of teenagers. It was like one of the sleepovers she remembered having growing up. Any minute now, and they’d have a pillow fight.