Page 12 of The Problem with Dating
I mean, I knew it was true, but it still seemed a little unreal.
I was finally moving into my new home, and even though it needed some work, I was excited. I was starting the next phase of my life, and it felt…right.
After meeting the movers this morning, I followed the truck from Amsterdam until we pulled up in front of my new home.
When I’d first met Cecil and Donald, they had been friendly and professional as they had moved my belongings into the truck. However, now that they were moving me into my new home, they’d turned that friendly and professional to comfortable and helpful. When I had explained about the possible water damage, they had moved all my bedroom boxes into one of the spare bedrooms, but had arranged them for convenience, knowing I’d be moving everything into the master suite once I got the flood damage fixed. It had been a sweet gesture.
They also refused to let me help, so I’d done my best to make sure they had cold water and finger foods while they moved me in. I had also made them both some to-go snack packs for when they took off back to Amsterdam.
Gideon Hayes, notwithstanding, I felt positive about my move here. I felt positive about my new job. And I felt positive about my new neighborhood. The alternative was depressing, and I’ve had enough negative in my life to last me a lifetime.
Cecil walked up to me as Donald helped himself to some of those finger foods. “We’re halfway done, Echo,” he said, smiling. “Is there going to be anything you need us to put together for you?”
See? Not every guy was a rude jerk like Gideon Hayes.
I shook my head. “I think I got it,” I told him. “But thank you for the offer.”
He winked at me before looking over at Donald. “Come on, Don,” he called over. “We can eat afterwards.”
Donald popped a sandwich square in his mouth. “No, I really don’t think we can,” he teased. I laughed and followed Cecil outside. Even if they wouldn’t let me help, I liked watching them move my furniture and boxes. I wasn’t above ogling sexy muscle work.
Standing out in the yard, I heard the rumbling of an engine behind me. When I turned my head back, I saw a big, white truck coming up the road. I turned back to observe Cecil and Donald, but when the roar of the engine sounded closer behind me, I turned around again in time to witness the truck pull into the driveway of the house next door. Something about the driver looked familiar, but I didn’t want to be a creep and keep staring, so I turned back around to mind my own business. Besides, it was obvious that I was the one moving into the neighborhood, so proper etiquette dictated that my neighbor should greet me in a welcoming gesture.
That wasn’t what I got.
What I got was a, “You got to fucking be kidding me.”
That voice.
I’d know that voice anywhere because it sounded in my mind over, and over again as I replayed all the rudeness from yesterday evening. The entire drive back to Amsterdam that voice had replayed in my head. The rest of the evening, as I had roamed around a packed-up house, that voice had replayed in my head. And even as I had laid on the couch, almost forcing myself to fall asleep, that voice and all its rudeness had replayed in my head.
I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and slowly turned and came face-to-face with Gideon goddamn Hayes.
My freakin’ neighbor.
I shook my head. “Please, tell me you’re visiting a sick friend, or one of your employees, or…or, better yet, tell me you’re lost. Tell me you’re lost and that you pulled into that driveway to ask for directions to wherever you need to be.”
Gideon cocked his head. “Why would I need to ask a person for directions when, like the rest of the free world, I have a smartphone?”
“Because if you’re my neighbor, suddenly, a good deal on a house with a little bit of water damage seems like an overpriced nightmare. And I don’t have the time to move again as my new job starts soon,” I retorted, not caring about how rude I might sound.
There was a tick in his jaw, but he ignored my jab. “The water damage isn’t that bad,” he said, confusing me.
“What?”
Gideon jerked his head towards my house. “The water damage,” he repeated. “It’s not that bad.”
My brows drew down, but then it occurred to me. With him being a contractor, Stanley Herbert, the previous owner, had probably already had Gideon look at the damage when it had happened. Of course, that was assuming they’d been friendly neighbors, but if Gideon was commenting on it, then that must have been what happened.
“I didn’t ask, Mr. Hayes,” I replied, and there was that tick in his jaw again.
“Look-”
“Hey, Echo,” Donald called out. “I gotta question.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Hayes, but as you can see, I’m busy.” I turned and walked over to where Donald had been standing behind the truck.
When I joined him, he asked, “Do you need us to set up the bed in the spare bedroom, or were you planning on couching it until the water damage is assessed and fixed?”
