Page 33 of Love in Mission City
“She came with that name.”
“I figured.”
“Gallia.” One of the many sources of gossip in Mission City.
“Great lady. Super friendly.” He nudged Rosebud’s stuffie. “Super helpful.”
“I should pay you back.” I reached for my wallet before realizing I didn’t have it.
He waved me off. “Tell you what. I buy Boston Pizza tonight, and you pick up the tab the next time. Then we’re even.”
I wrinkled my nose. “You buying gifts for my dogs—who definitely didn’t need them—and then buying dinner does not make us even.”
He laughed. “I don’t live my life that way. What did you say you did?”
“I didn’t.”
Unblinkingly, he stared—clearly waiting for me to answer. I cleared my throat. “Accountant.”
He laughed yet again. “Yeah, that makes sense. It’s all about balance sheets. I don’t keep track like that. Except that my family helped me, and then I helped them. Now, do you want pizza, pasta, ribs, chicken wings…oh, they make mean mozzarella sticks. We could share them as an appetizer.” He scrolled on his phone.
“That still doesn’t work.” A knot formed in my chest.
“Okay, well, you pick up the next two dinners, and then we’re even.” He winked.
The knot loosened.
Chapter Three
Carter
If I could’ve convinced Byron to stay and chat all night, I totally would’ve done it. But he had an early conference call in the morning, and so bid me good night after having eaten his chicken salad.
I wolfed down bourbon-barbecue ribs, thick-cut fries, and a slice of heavenly cheesecake. Oh, and a side of steamed broccoli. More to impress my guest than out of any true desire for health benefits. I was allowed to treat myself. Even as I considered all the future vegetables which would inevitably rot in my fridge. Total waste of money and bad for the planet. I’d try do better…if only to impress my new neighbor.
Wheedling out of him that he had worked as an accountant for almost twenty years had taken some work. I’d been a kid. Other than the fact he worked on some fancy something or other, I knew nothing. Well, and he loved his dogs. He confided in me he’d never seen Rosebud take to a stranger like she’d taken to me.
I told him that meant he should come over more often.
He’d given me a funny look and headed off.
But not before I’d reminded him that he owed metwodinners. I wasn’t a guy to keep track—and if I never collected, that would be totally fine. Somehow, though, I’d been thoroughly charmed by him. Had enjoyed every moment of our evening together. If wrangling another one or two from him meant nudging in the owed-dinner department, I was totally fine with that. I might’ve been guessing, but I didn’t figure he was hard up for money. Although why he’d choose a condo over a townhouse or house, I wasn’t certain. My goal was to eventually move up in the world. If I signed the contract and pocketed my share of the advance—once my agent and lawyer had taken their share—I was going to do very well. Plus a piece of the royalties once the show aired…
I never counted my chickens before they hatched. Which was a dumb saying anyway, but one my mom used all the time.
Deciding a run on a Saturday morning before the predicted rains arrived would be a good idea, I changed into my sweats, donned a light jacket, and headed out. I locked my door, pocketed my keys, and was in the process of stepping toward the elevator when I glanced at 407.
Byron.
Well…surely if he was working then Rosebud and Sheffield needed attention.
Right?
And since I tried to take Saturdays off—and spend Sundays with my family—today was the perfect day for me to spend with my two favorite pooches. And if that endeared me to a certain someone, that would be okay too. Plus, I’d accidentally kept all the dogs’ treats and toys. They’d want to come over and play with them again.
Right?
Before I could talk myself out of it, I knocked on the door. I tried to be quiet—just in case he was on another teleconference.I waited patiently, and after about thirty seconds, that patience was rewarded.
