Page 23 of The White Picket Fence

“Oh, I will,” the woman said sweetly, rolling her eyes as soon as he’d slammed his apartment door. “Oh, I won’t,” she called to Charlotte. “I’ll hold on to it. If you want me to send the video to you, just let me know.” She waved merrily, going back into her apartment.

“We’re not all assholes,” another woman said. “He’s been a grouch from day one. Just ignore him.”

Another woman smiled at Tino. “Next time you forget your key, knock on my door, honey. I’ll let you in.”

The other neighbors groaned good-naturedly and returned to their apartments.

Charlotte closed her door and leaned against it, cradling her mug in her hands, half tempted to toss it at Tino for causing such a fuss.

“Did you sleep on my doormat?”

“I did. It’s scratchy.”

“I have several. The cat likes to sharpen her claws on them.”

Tino’s lips twitched. “Is that a threat?” He looked down and his lips curved into a full smile. “Oh, aren’t you pretty?”

“Don’t try to pick her up,” Charlotte said. “She doesn’t like strangers.”

But he’d already picked the cat up and was giving her head scritches. “Yes, you are a pretty girl. Listen to you purr. Like a motorboat. And your mom says you don’t like strangers. Silly Mom. What’s your name?”

Of course her cat had fallen prey to Tino’s charm. “She’s Mrs. Tripplehorn. She had that name when I got her. You want some coffee?”

“Yes. Please yes.”

Sighing, she filled a mug for him and started another pot. She allowed herself two cups in the morning, and she wasn’t giving up her second cup for anyone. Not even the man who’d slept on her doorstep.

Which should be making her so angry.

But it really wasn’t.

It was Tino.Taking care of me.Affection warmed her from the inside out.

“How did you get back into the building? I watched you get into the elevator last night.”

He gave Mrs. Tripplehorn another stroke before setting her on the floor. “I got to the lobby and the security guard was snoring. I figured you had shit security, so I came back up. Nobody even noticed me until Mr. Congeniality came out this morning and started screaming at me.”

“That’s not good,” she said. “I’ll report it. Just...don’t do that again, okay?”

“I was worried,” he said, suddenly more serious than she’d ever seen him. “You thought someone was watching you, before and after dinner. What if you were right? If you’re not going to listen to your gut, I will.”

She wanted to kiss his cheek but patted it instead, his stubble scratchy against her palm. She wondered how it would feel against her face if she kissed him full on the mouth. Which she really wanted to do, but she pushed the desire down.

That ship’s sailed. He’s only your friend.

“Thank you,” she said. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“I’m not promising anything.”

Because he wasn’t the kind of man to lie. It was one of the things she’d loved about him back in the day.

“Well, at least I can make you some breakfast. Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at her, and her heart fluttered in her chest. He was unfairly beautiful, even after having slept on her doorstep all night.

She began gathering ingredients. “French toast and bacon?”

The groan he made was utterly sinful and had her thinking once again about all the things she should not be thinking about.

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