Page 82 of Hello Stranger

“Three messages. And three texts.”

“Okay then,” Joe said, crooking his arm around my shoulders and steering me toward his door. “Come on.”

JOE’S APARTMENT WASbig. And penthouse-fancy. And top of the line: Viking range. Glass fridge. It made my hovel look even more hovelly.

But also? The place was totally empty.

Byempty,I mean there was no furniture. At all.

Except for a couple of barstools at the island and a mattress on the floor in the master bedroom… nothing.

I saw it when Joe steered me into the master bathroom so I could take a hot shower.

“What about Peanut?” I asked.

Joe handed me a towel. “I’ll get him with the blow-dryer.”

“Be careful,” I said. “He doesn’t like men.”

“He likes me,” Joe said.

“You don’t have a sofa, but you have a blow-dryer?” I said. That floppy hair of Joe’s definitely couldn’t require much maintenance.

But Joe was already gone.

While I showered—and can I just say that his shower was far, far superior to mine, so I stayed in way too long—Joe accomplished many things. He left a T-shirt, some heather-gray sweatpants, a big plaid bathrobe, and some oversize socks that fit like Christmas stockings folded by the door for me. He blow-dried Peanut, as promised, and then talkedhim into eating a few pieces of cold rotisserie chicken. He left a note on the rooftop door for Mr. Kim to call me or come by Joe’s place with any info on the lock. And he ordered takeout from an Italian place nearby that I just happened to love.

Pretty impressive, all in all.

When I emerged at last all layered up with my hair wrapped in a fluffy white towel, I was feeling a lot better.

The food had already arrived, and he was unpacking the bag at the island in his empty kitchen.

“Thank you for your help,” I said as I approached.

Joe looked up at the sound of my voice and then stilled at the sight of me.

Whatever expression he was making that I couldn’t see, I couldn’t read it, either.

“Don’t laugh,” I said, tightening his robe around me.

“I’m not laughing.”

“Don’t stare, either.”

“I’m not staring.”

“Yes you are.”

Joe dropped his head to look down.

I couldn’t help but feel annoyed. I bet his last glimpse of Parker’s attire had been a lace teddy. “This is the best I can do with myself right now, okay?”

“No,” he said, like I was misunderstanding. “You look—”

“I look what?”

“You look… cozy.”

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