Page 9 of New Girl in Town
“How do you feel about letting me take you out?”
“Is that very professional?”
Grant huffed out a laugh and the hand resting on the doorframe slid up so that his elbow took its spot. He said, “Now, how would me showing the new woman in town around be unprofessional? I take my duties as the building super seriously.”
I rocked back on my heels and gave him an unconvinced look. “Uh huh.”
“And that means creating a sense of community is important, and last I checked dinner fell under that umbrella.”
I shook my head, unable to fight the smile on my face. “Is that right?”
“Absolutely,” he told me. “I can bring you the job description if you don’t believe me.”
“Is using pet names also covered in this superintendent handbook?” I asked, enjoying the faint blush the question brought to his cheeks.
He shook his head and gave me a wry grin. “Oh no, that’s just me going above and beyond. Now let me take you to dinner. You’ve had a busy day.”
I looked away, my eyes scanning my still empty kitchen. The rational part of me demanded that I tell him I was fine, but we both knew I didn’t have so much as a saltine cracker in my new apartment. On cue, my stomach rumbled, and I bit back a sigh. I had moved here to start over and stay out of trouble, which meant sidestepping men with soft looks and thousand-watt smiles, but Iwantedto go to dinner with Grant.
Hell, I wanted the nightcap that could possibly follow, and everything in between, with a hunger that surprised me.
I squeezed my eyes shut and then nodded. “Alright, dinner sounds good,” I said, still looking away from him.
Grant laughed. “Does it?”
My eyes snapped to his. “Why wouldn’t it?”
“You look like you’re about to face down a firing squad.”
“That’s just my face,” I deadpanned. Less confident men might have wavered under my blank stare and dry tone, but Grant didn’t so much as blink.
“I know. It’s a good face,” he said, leaning close to me and stealing my breath as he brought our lips within inches of each other.
“Thanks,” I whispered, and tilted my head to the side as I thought about how easy it might be to lean forward and close that minuscule distance. “When’s dinner?”
“Now?” he ventured, his other hand moving out to grip the side of the door jamb.
“Now is good.” I nodded toward the space behind him when he didn’t move away. “Should we go?”
Grant’s eyes scanned my face, and I almost groaned at the heat I saw in his gaze. We were as close as we could be without touching. He gave a nod, nothing more than a jerk of his chin, and pushed away from the door, leaving me bereft of his warmth. I blinked, feeling drunk, and turned to hide the flush I knew would be apparent on my cheeks.
I shut the door and locked it, my fingers tightening on my new apartment key with more force than necessary before I gave myself a mental slap and whirled to face Grant.
You couldn’t write a more perfect romantic meet-cute. But was this a romanticanything? My brain was engaged in the mental aerobics necessary to write this off as nothing more than simple meal with a new friend. But my body hummed with the electricity that seemed crackle around us at every interaction. This couldn’t just be dinner with a friend, could it?
I bit my lip.
“Uh, Grant?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
My cheeks went a shade redder and I swallowed hard. “What is this?”
Grant asked, “What is what?”
“This,” I rasped.
Grant chuckled, and I felt his fingers touch the inside of my wrist. “This is a date.”
