Page 7 of The Dallas Dilemma

I should say something. Anything.

“So…” I start, my mind going blank for a beat before I cough and add, “where are you off to?”

“Meeting my new boss for dinner and drinks,” he says, “at someplace called O’Malley’s.”

“Oh,” I say as we reach the elevator and Dallas presses the button to call it to our floor, “that’s a great bar. They have really good food.”

“You know it?” he asks, and I nod.

“I know almost every place in Grenville. I grew up here.”

“Good to know,” he says as the doors slide open andwe step into the elevator. Pulling his wallet from his pocket, he plucks out a business card and holds it toward me. “I don’t know if you still have my number from our chat on Monday, so here’s my card. Call or text me sometime. I could use a friend, especially someone who knows all the best spots in Grenville.”

He smiles down at me, and something flutters in my chest. I take the card with stiff fingers as I try to force my hand not to shake. The tension only makes the shaking more obvious, so I push the card into the pocket of my pajamas and leave my hand there, out of sight.

The elevator stops on the ground floor, and Dallas motions for me to precede him. I step off and head straight for the exit, but he quickens his pace and beats me there, pulling the door open for me. I thank him with a nod and head toward my car without another word.

I’m being kind of a freak. I realize this about myself in the moment, but I can’t stop it. My anxiety spikes as Dallas’ footsteps echo behind me. Is he following me to my car?Why is he following me to my car?

When I reach it, the vehicle beside me beeps and the headlights flash as Dallas unlocks it.

Oh.

He wasn’t following me. He was just walking to his own car.

I look over to find him looking back, and he smiles and waves before disappearing into his vehicle. I wave back too late, and, feeling even stupider than I did before, slump into my own driver’s seat with a sigh. I pretend tofiddle with the radio until Dallas backs out of his spot and leaves, then I lean back and take a few deep breaths.

Why am I so awkward?

Groaning, I start the car and back out. Dallas’ card burns in my pocket the whole drive over, and by the time I pull into Callie’s apartment complex, I’ve decided he was only being friendly and doesn’t actually want me to text or call him. I mean, why would he? He’s so outgoing and friendly, he’s bound to make new friends in no time. He doesn’t really need me. I’m just the weirdo introvert across the hall.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Raven asks as soon as I walk into Callie’s apartment.

A quick look around proves I’m the last to arrive, and Callie and Twila look over at me with twin expressions of concern at Raven’s question. I stick my tongue out at her as I plop down beside Twila on the couch and steal her cocktail. I take a quick sip and clear my throat.

“I have a new neighbor.”

I haven’t told any of them about Dallas yet, waiting for tonight so I could do it in person. Our group chats tend to be chaotic, and I didn’t want to be even more confused about this whole situation. I need advice. Good,clearadvice.

“The empty apartment across the hall?” Callie asks, and I nod.

“His name is Dallas,” I say, and all three of them sit up a bit straighter.

“Is he cute?” Twila asks, and Raven rolls her eyes.

“Is he a puppy?” she counters, then meets my eyes. “Scale of one to ten. How hot is he?”

“Twelve,” I breathe, and her eyes widen.

Before they can bombard me with questions, I raise a palm and take another long chug of Twila’s drink before handing the glass back to her. The three of them watch me expectantly as I order my thoughts, and when I’m ready, I slowly tell them the story of his address change request, my decision to tell him I live across the hall, and his subsequent visit.

I almost laugh at their wide-eyed, open-mouthed expressions. I acted totally out of character, telling a customer we’re neighbors. It’s something Raven would do, and maybe even the others, but never me.

“What does he look like?” Raven asks once she recovers.

“Tall,” I say, and when the three of them give me matching raised eyebrows, I laugh. “I know most men seem tall to me, but he really istall.Well over six feet. And built like a pro athlete.”

“And his face?” Raven asks, Callie and Twila nodding like they want the answer to that question, too.

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