Page 5 of The Rebound
“Books, actually.” I laugh, immediately appreciating his sense of humor. “Someone clearly didn’t think it all the way through when mailing the heaviest package in existence to the single pregnant lady.”
His gaze makes a quick perusal of my figure, but his expression remains impassive. “I always thought pregnancy gave you superhuman powers. Even more so when you’re single.”
I chuckle, shaking my head as I unlock the door. “Not in my experience.”
Ignoring everything I’ve been taught, I open the door wide for a stranger, somehow knowing I can trust him not to be a serial killer. Inside, he sets the box gently on the living room floor. He winces a little as he straightens, twisting his torso from side to side until I hear a loud crack.
“Back issues,” he says with a crooked smile.
“Oh my God, are you pregnant too?” I tease.
His blue eyes dance on mine. “Not quite so lucky. I just overexerted myself.”
“Working out?” The question slips out of my mouth before I have the common sense to shut up.
Did I just ask a stranger if he works out? I mean, he obviously does. His baby-blue T-shirt and gray joggers stretch comfortably over lean, tough muscles. His forearms have those pronounced veins that trail down to his large hands, each of which are neatly manicured. The man takes care of himself.
“You got me.” He winks at me, and I can’t help but smile.
Who is this guy?
“What’s your name? I’m Kinley. I just moved to Boston this week.”
“I’m Saint. I live down the hall to the left. Welcome to the building.”
I reach out and shake his hand. His grip is firm, but not crushing like some assholes in the corporate world. Like, we get it, hearty handshakes make for good impressions. Don’t break my fingers.
“You’re really kind for a complete stranger.”
“Happy to help. Is there anything else I can carry in?”
I blink at him, a laugh hovering on my lips. “Really?”
He nods. “Really. I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Nothing better to do than help your pregnant neighbor carry her packages upstairs?”
“Seems like.”
I shrug, considering letting him off the hook. I mean, I don’t want to take advantage of his kindness, but then common sense gets the better of me. I’m seven months pregnant, and I don’t know why I thought I could manage all this on my own.
Hesitantly, I tell him about the awkward package shaped like a disassembled desk down in the mail room and ask if he’ll bring it up to me. It’s the same desk I’ve had since I graduated from college with nothing but a measly marketing degree to prove my worth. I bought the desk as my first real purchase—for me andonlyme. It’s small and worn, but it means the world to me.
Saint agrees. After retreating downstairs, he returns with the box in a matter of five minutes. When he offers to set up the desk for me too, I get suspicious.
“What’s in it for you?” I ask, my eyes comically narrowed.
It’s not like I don’t trust the guy ... he’s been nothing but helpful. He hasn’t said anything creepy or tried to hit on me. But then again, since I got pregnant, I seem to have a sign taped to my belly that saysDAMAGED GOODS—RUN AWAYin big red letters. Men don’t traditionally flirt with a woman who has a baby on the way. Which is more than fine, since I’m not in the market for a man anyway.
“Not a thing.” He flashes a brilliant grin that throws me a bit.
Every woman in this building must have a crush on this dude. I sneak a peek at his hands again. No wedding ring.
Interesting.
But his unexpected offer for help is exactly what I needed, if I’m being honest. I’m still adjusting to my new figure. I always imagined I’d be one of those cute pregnant people, maybe with the luxury of an expanded chest size, which is something I’ve never had.
The reality has been strikingly different.
