Page 186 of Secret Shifters Next Door

“Fine,” I blurted. “All fine. You muscles…shit, I mean you must think I’m crazy.” My face felt hot enough to fry eggs on it.

“I don’t.” He smiled. “But you still haven’t answered my question.” He gestured behind me. “Plus, the line’s moving.”

“Oh damn.” I pushed my cart forward and looked back at him. “Anyway, I was bored, so I decided to put together some home decor things. I know I’m only here for a few weeks but…I don’t know. A little homey touch seemed warranted.” He stared at me, not speaking. It made me think I’d said something wrong. “Sorry, you probably think it’s crazy to decorate a house you’re going to be in for a month.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” His voice sounded strangely gruff and strained. “If it’s something that makes you happy, then you should do it.”

I nodded to the stuff in his hand. “What…uh…what brought you here?”

I was proud of myself. I was having an honest-to-god conversation––with a real, live person, no less. Not only that, it was a person I found incredibly attractive. Was this real life? Is this how normal people interacted? If so, I could get used to it.

He lifted the items, “One of my best friends has a little boy whose first birthday is coming up. I’m doing a wood carving for him. I needed some low grit sandpaper and a new riffler.”

“What the hell is a riffler?” I blurted and immediately clapped my hand to my mouth.

He laughed and held up a weird little metal tool. “It’s for wood carving. Basically a specialty file for getting into tight, hard-to-reach spots.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Pretty sweet of you to hand-make a gift for a little boy like that.” I wasn’t just making conversation. It really was a nice thing to do.

He looked into my eyes for several seconds. The expression on his face was unreadable, and my face warmed again. Thankfully, the line had started moving quicker. A register had opened, and I pushed my cart to it as quickly as I could.

Of course, instead of moving to the opposite register, Miles followed me. Something about him was so intimidating, but notin a bad way. He was the embodiment of power and strength. I’d never met a man who had that same sense of gravity about him.

As the cashier rang up and bagged everything, I realized how much stuff I’d gotten. Between the supplies I needed and the stupid ass fake flowers, it would be a fun march home. I was still dealing with the minor PTSD from carrying my groceries up the stairs a couple days ago.

I started hooking my fingers through the handles of the bags. Miles checked out fast, then stood next to me as I loaded up.

“I didn’t notice your car in the lot. Did you walk here?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Bought more than I planned. It was a nice day, and I decided to leave my rental at the apartment.”

Miles nodded and grabbed the last three bags off the counter, then strode to the door. Blinking in surprise, I hurried after him. “Wait. What are you doing?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m being a good neighbor. I’ll walk you home and help carry your stuff.”

“No…um…Miles, it’s fine, really. I can carry my stuff. I don’t want to put you out.”

He ignored the comment and crossed the parking lot. His truck was parked near the door of the shop.

“What about your car? You can’t leave it here.”

“Why not?” He laughed.

I stopped and looked at the truck, then at his back. “Uh, because it’s your freaking car, right?”

“It’ll be fine there for thirty minutes. I’ll jog back and grab it once you’re settled back home. You need the help, and I’m happy to lend you a hand.”

My feet seemed to move on their own, following him. That simple sentence was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to me. It was a sad truth but true, nonetheless. Since I reckoned my protests would fall on deaf ears, I hurried until I was walking beside him.

It was a ten-minute walk to the apartment building, and we walked in silence from the store. That had made me uncomfortable. As little as I enjoyed conversation, awkward silences were even more painful. I kept sneaking glances at his face every few seconds, trying to gauge how he was feeling. Frustration? Boredom? Irritation? No matter what, he had that same contented grin on his face. Men were so damned weird.

Miles walked me up the stairs and even took all the bags while I got my keys out and unlocked my door. He handed all the bags to me. “Thank you,” I mumbled.

“Any time. If you ever need anything, just knock. I’d be happy to do anything you need.”

“Oh, okay, thanks,” I said, surprised by his offer.

He looked at me for a long time, pinning me in place with his eyes. For some reason, I couldn’t move. I was frozen and waited for him to say something, anything. Instead, he sighed, deep and dramatic, then headed to the stairs. He disappeared down the steps without another word. I chewed at my lip, wishing I’d said something else. Had he expected me to invite him in for coffee or tea? Had I screwed up? Ugh, I wished I had more experience with this.

---