Page 69 of Steamy Ever After

There’s a gym nearby, a grocery store and even some nice restaurants. Plus, the sublet is only a few blocks from my work. Closer than where I live now. It’s near a busy street, but far enough that it won’t be too noisy. So far, I’m not finding any cons.

I head back and round the corner in time to see a woman with wildly curly brown hair, fighting with the suddenly mischievous gust of wind that swoops down. The blood-orange bohemian-style dress she’s wearing looks a size too big and blows up, revealing nice, toned legs. She’s so busy brushing the hair from her face, she doesn’t see the fire hydrant she’s about to walk into.

I cringe as I yell, “Watch out!”

“Shiit,” she shouts, smashing into the hydrant. Her grocery bag falls to the ground, spilling its contents everywhere.

She hunches over, gripping her calf and without thinking, I spring into action, rushing to her side.

“Are you all right?” I ask, crouching to her level, noticing her brown Birkenstocks, but also a small silver toe ring and anklet that sparks something in my blood.

She glares at me, her bright green eyes fringed with long, dark lashes. Her button nose is sprinkled with cute freckles and her creamy cheeks seem permanently stained with a pink blush.

She grumbles something under her breath, gathering her spilled groceries. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

“You sure?” I hand her a box of tampons she quickly snatches away. “You hit that thing pretty hard.”

The red gash on her leg disappears beneath her skirt when she stands up. “I said I’m fine.”

She walks to the door of the building and I realize it’s the same place I’m heading to.

When she unlocks the door, I hold it open and her guarded glare cuts through me like a knife.

“After you,” I say with a smile, but she only shakes her head.

I follow behind, and can tell she’s nervous. She slips a key between the fingers of her right hand, the same way they teach women to do in self-defense classes.

Biting back my laugh, I give her some room and stay a few steps behind her as we walk up the stairs. Trying to look anywhere but at her round ass, I pull out my phone and double check the email. Apartment 5B. Fifth floor. In a building without an elevator. Great.

At each landing, she pauses for a fraction of a second, as if hoping I’ll stop following her. And each time I don’t, she releases an audible huff.

We reach the fifth floor. I stop and look around at the apartment numbers, but she turns left and heads down the hallway.

By the time she’s unlocking her door, I’m right behind her, shaking my head.

“Listen, buddy,” she says over her shoulder, “I know five different ways to kill you and trust me, you won’t like any of them.”

She spins around, holding the key up menacingly.

“Woah, relax.” I raise my hands in surrender, partly amused, partly terrified. “Are you Jane Donati?”

Her frown deepens. “What’s it to you?”

I smile, holding a hand over my heart. “I’m Joseph Miller.”

“You are?”

She’s still holding the key up like a dagger and I gently place a hand on her wrist, lowering her weapon.

“Do you mind? You’re making me nervous.”

“Interesting,” she says, pulling her hand away.

“What is?”

“You’re early.”

She steps into the apartment, holding the door open for me.

---