Page 9 of When Alec Met Evie
“I sent him a message and told him where I am,” I say, “but he hasn’t responded yet.”
I almost told Alec not to come—it’s not like we can move anything into the house—but the moving pod that was delivered just over a week ago is supposed to be picked up tomorrow, and I’d rather not pay to keep it for another month. Especially if my already stretched bank account is going to pay for a hotel. So my hope is that instead of moving everything inside, we can move it all into the garage.
“I’m sure he’ll find you,” Ruth says. “Now, eat. I promise it’s delicious.”
Forty-five minutes later, Juno is fed and down for a nap in the portable crib I retrieved from my car, my belly is full of the best chicken pot pie I’ve ever had, and Ruth is entertaining me with stories about her children, a daughter and a son who are, respectively, studying medicine at Harvard and serving as an officer in the Marine Corps.
“Your kids sound amazing,” I say.
She stands and moves into the small kitchen just off the living room, dishes clinking together as she says, “They’ve made their mamma proud.”
When she returns, she hands me a second plate, this one holding some sort of apple dessert.
“It’s a crumble,” she says. “And you might like it more than the pot pie.”
“Hard to imagine how.” I take the plate and scoop up a generous bite. “Oh man, Ruth. This is unbelievable.”
She beams, and I get the sense it really does bring her joy to feed people. Which, I’m just saying, there are worse qualities for neighbors to have.
I’ve just finished the last of my crumble and am debating the merits of licking the plate clean when a knock sounds on the front door.
Ruth stands and smiles. “That’s probably your hockey player.”
Ha!My hockey player.That’s a pipe dream if ever there was one.
I press a hand to my stomach, a vain attempt to quell the nerves fluttering in my belly. I’m already tense from the emotional upheaval of the last hour, so the thought of seeing Alec again has me dangerously close to throwing up.
I take several deep breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth, finishing just in time for Alec to walk into the living room, flanked by three broad-shouldered men I immediately recognize as his teammates. There’s something to be said about seeing four professional athletes in one very small living room, especially when they’re as handsome as this group.
Though, to be honest, it’s hard to peel my eyes off Alec to even notice the other guys.
He was handsome when I was a kid. And I’ve seen him online enough to know he’sstillhandsome. But seeing him in person is something else entirely. He isn’t quite as broad or as bulky as his teammates, but that’s hardly a fair comparison because two of the guys behind him have to be close to six-foot-five.
Alec still looks every inch the athlete, well-muscled and fit. His hair is longer than I remember, and he’s got a faint five o’clock shadow dusting his jawline.
I quickly stand, and his eyes move over me before catching and holding my gaze.
I bite my lip, wondering what he’s noticing. What he thinks of me.
Annndthen I think about the milk stains on my t-shirt and the baby barf on my shoulder.
Nothing like a little bodily fluid to ground me back in reality.
Alec Sheridan is not here for me to ogle him, and he definitely isn’t ogling me.
Stretch marks for miles, boobs that turn into milk-filled cantaloupes at least five times a day. I am so far from sexy right now, I’m not deluded enough to think I’m turning any heads.
That means if I’m going to get through the rest of this day with any dignity at all, I need to shelve any and all thoughts about Alec and his sexy man stubble in the very back of my mind.
Alec smiles, his lips lifting a little more on the left than the right, just like they always did. “Hey, nerd.”
His voice is a low and delicious rumble, sending a wave of goosebumps skittering across my skin. It’s not a wonder Juno loves it so much.
Then it registers that Alec just called menerd.
It’s a nickname I earned my freshman year of high school when I took a history textbook to one of Alec’s hockey games. Hearing it now brings an unexpected sense of home to an afternoon that, so far, has pushed me completely out of my comfort zone. I’m a stranger to North Carolina, even to Ruth, as kind as she’s being. But I’m not a stranger to Alec.
I grin with relief, emotion making my eyes sting with moisture. I had no idea how much I needed to see a familiar face until he walked in.
