Page 6 of Absolutely Not in Love
I drop down onto the bench and pull on my shoes. “Ivy likes her privacy.”
Logan rolls his eyes, then claps Eli on the back, saying something to him that I can’t hear. Eli nods and heads out the door, and Logan moves toward me.
“Seriously?” he says, dropping onto the bench beside me. “You have to meetIvy?”
I lift my hands. “I swear it isn’t personal.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations, man. You can spend your time however you want.” Logan pauses. “Just…you okay?” His expression is serious, like he’sreallyasking and would sit here as long as it took for me to give him a real answer.
“I’m good,” I say, meeting his gaze head-on. “Just want to get home.”
Logan doesn’t say anything, but I can tell by his expression that he wants more of an explanation.
I sigh and run a hand across my beard. “I’m just…hoping I’ll run into my neighbor.” Now that I’ve said it out loud, I realize how stupid it sounds, and wish I could call back the words.
I only have one neighbor, and Logan has met her, so he knows exactly who I’m talking about. “The neighbor who doesn’t like hockey players?” he says, raising his eyebrows.
“She doesn’t likehockey,” I clarify. “That’s not the same thing.”
“Right,” Logan says dryly. “Totally different.”
“She did tell me she doesn’tdatehockey players though,” I add a little sheepishly. “So, maybe itisthe same thing.”
Logan chuckles. “Whyare we having this conversation again?”
Good question.All I know is I get more excited about the prospect of running into Gracie than I do anyone else I’ve met in Harvest Hollow. And I could listen to her practicing her cello all night long. The first time I heard cello music drifting through our shared living room wall, I thought it was a recording. I didn’t realize it washeruntil she started and stopped a few times, going over the same measure multiple times. I ended up moving one of the armchairs in my living room up against the wall so I could sit and read and still be close enough to hear her.
“I don’t know, man,” I say. “I’m a glutton for punishment, I guess.”
I stand and grab my bag.
“You know, maybe yourneighborneeds to meet Ivy.” He grabs his bag from his locker a few paces away, then gives me a pointed look. “I saw her at Book Smart the other night. At least I think it was her. If she’s into books, your library might make her forget you play hockey.”
“Book Smart?” I ask, and he nods.
“The bookstore on Maple Street. You’ve never been there? Dude, come on. You? I thought it’d be your favorite place.”
We head toward the door together. “Call it self-preservation. I’m out of shelf space.”
“Yeah. And your apartment is so cramped, there’s definitely no room for a new shelf.”
My lips twitch. The guys like to tease me about my spacious apartment—minor league hockey players aren’t exactly rolling in extra cash—but they’d never let me live it down if they knew the actual truth.
I can afford my apartment because I own the entire building.
I bought it a year ago using money from my grandmother’s trust fund. My original plan was to have my apartment fill the entire top floor, but Gracie’s apartment was already outfitted as living space, and I decided it might be nice to have a little rental income coming in to help with property taxes. Originally, the building was home to Sheffield Family Publishing. They printed elementary school textbooks, early readers, that sort of thing. Pretty sure the managing editor lived in what’s now Gracie’s apartment, right up until the company went under in the early 2000s. My apartment is much larger than hers, occupying the whole of the space that held the actual printing presses. I kept the original flooring in the living room, and you can still see ink stains marring the wide, wooden planks.
I get how it sounds. People heartrust fundand think I must be loaded. Or worse—they meet my father and make the same assumption. But the trust fund my grandmother left me is paltry compared to the kind of money my father makes. He’s in real estate development in Chicago, where I grew up, and owns what feels like half the city. Had I gone into business with him, my name would be on the deeds of a lot more than just one building, and my bank account balance would have a lot more numbers before the decimal point.
I also wouldn’t be playing hockey. So. There’s that.
Despite my father’s disappointment over every single professional choice I’ve ever made, I’m happy where I am. A minor league hockey salary is not impressive, but I invested what was left of my trust fund after I bought the building, and I earn enough interest to live comfortably if not extravagantly. Plus, I have future business plans for the first floor of the warehouse. It’s on hold until the off-season, but I’m still excited about it.
“I could probably add a few extra shelves in the guest bedroom,” I say. “You really think Gracie likes books?”
Logan holds up his hands. “All I know is I saw her in a bookstore. Want me to ask Parker if she knows her? If Gracie grew up around here, she might.” Even though Logan and Parker’s relationship is relatively new, they both grew up in Harvest Hollow, and they’ve known each other for years—since they were kids.
“You don’t have to do that. Or…you could, I guess,” I say. “But only if it comes up.”
