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  Instead, she put her sweaty hand on the door and shoved it open with more force than necessary and took a couple of deep breaths while she leaned against the door.

  The air in her lungs wasn’t helping. Maybe a glass of water would. After she downed one, then a second, she knew it was useless at this point to drink a third. She’d calm down in enough time. She always did. And she’d never have enough courage to face him the way she wanted. Instead she ran and hid like she did so long ago.

  Sam popped her head in a few minutes later. “What did the creep want today? Gush about your Hulk-inspired muffins?”

  For a minute Piper thought Sam was talking about Karl. One of her old foster fathers. The one that thought he could be more than a father to her. That thought she was in the house for his enjoyment. He learned otherwise, and he’d learned it fast.

  But Sam mentioned the green muffins, so Piper knew who she was talking about. She forced a laugh. Sam was good about nicknaming anything she thought Piper made that was odd. “You shouldn’t call Quinton a creep. It’s not nice. He said he loved it. I think he might be alone in those thoughts.”

  “It was pretty good, at least the first few bites, but too big for me.”

  “It’s an acquired taste,” Piper said, pulling up a last-minute order she had to fill. Four dozen assorted pastries and muffins. She needed to get her mind off of the fact Karl was in her shop. She didn’t know if he saw her. He didn’t call her name and he always did when he saw her around town. Always put on a show for everyone that he was this great fill-in father for the short time she was there. Until she did the only thing she could to get out. “Do you think I should slip a few in this order for the fun of it?”

  “I’m sure it couldn’t hurt. Someone might eat it.”

  Piper laughed at Sam’s funny face, glad that her heart rate was back to normal and she could pretend nothing happened. Just like she’d been doing for years. “I’ll throw them in as two extras. Then I won’t feel bad if they aren’t eaten.” Sam was just standing there staring at her. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Don’t you find him a little creepy at all?”

  “Who?” Piper asked, walking around the kitchen and trying to figure out what she was going to fill the box with. She wanted clarification so she didn’t slip and say the wrong thing. Guess she was shakier than she realized.

  “Quinton. I mean, he’s in here more and more. Just sits there for hours. Doesn’t he have a job? Once you go out and say a few words to him, he finally leaves. If you go out five minutes after he gets here, then he’ll leave. If you wait two hours, he stays until he talks to you. And he left another note on a napkin. I put it on your wall.”

  The first time someone left her a note of thanks, she posted it on her wall behind the counter. Now it seemed to have caught on and she got several left a week. It was nice to feel loved like that. To know she was touching so many people in such a simple way.

  “Really?” Piper asked. She’d never realized that before. “He’s sweet. Harmless. Just wants a friendly face to say hi. We know what it’s like not having many people to talk to. And whether he has a job or not is of no concern to me, because he’s paying for his food.”

  “But it’s not the same. He’s an adult.”

  “It’s always the same when you’re lonely, Sam. Like I said, harmless.”

  “You think everyone is harmless,” Sam said.

  No, she didn’t. But she wanted everyone to believe that, because deep down she tried to believe it herself. “After the lives we’ve had, you have to look for the positive. It will get you through. I give everyone the benefit of the doubt.”

  Sam shook her head, her ponytail whipping around. “You’re one of a kind.”

  “Could you imagine if there were more of me?” she asked, giggling and crossing her eyes. The crisis had passed, just like she’d been forcing it to her whole life.

  “Never,” Sam said, laughing and walking back to the front.

  Something Good

  A week later, Piper was walking into her apartment building. Nicole would close up in an hour, and Piper was whipped. She’d stayed longer than normal, but since it was her business she knew she had to put the work in. No pain, no gain worked for all aspects of life.

  Busy was good, she kept reminding herself. But busy had its drawbacks. Like no life. Thankfully, she was only open six days a week. Sunday she could crash like she’d planned on doing tomorrow.

  She stopped at the mailbox unit, shifting leftover cookies she was going to hand out to tenants, unlocked it and pulled everything out, tucked it into her bag, and made her way to the stairs. She was tired enough to take the elevator but tried to avoid it. A little exercise was good for the heart, she reminded herself. Especially for someone who owned a bakery and was around sweets all day long.

  She opened her front door humming to herself. She wasn’t one for the quiet. The quiet tended to make her nervous, for a person that hadn’t been nervous much since she turned eighteen and was on her own. When she didn’t have to depend on anyone. Didn’t have to report to anyone. Didn’t have to worry about the other occupants of where she was living.

  No nerves came with freedom. Or so she lectured herself.

  It didn’t matter that her last two years in the system, she was finally in a stable home and got to experience what it was like to be part of a family. Nothing good ever lasted long, she knew that, so she enjoyed it while she could and at eighteen went on her way.

  Me, myself, and I were her favorite three words.

  Did her foster parents want her to stay so she could go to college? Sure. Did she? Nope.

  She attended vocational training her last years of high school for the culinary arts. She’d put as much money away as she could while working part-time jobs and then moved out the minute she turned eighteen. One month after graduation.

  She’d been on her own for eight years and loved every minute of it. Not being dependent on anyone but herself had some major perks.

  After a quick shower and a large glass of ice tea on her little terrace overlooking the parking lot, she remembered she’d never checked her mail.

  Not that she ever got anything exciting delivered to her. But opening mail was almost like Christmas to her. Which was pathetic, but hey, whatever got her through the day. Maybe there’d be something good in the mail today besides bills and fliers.

  And today was her lucky day. There was something good, all right. Mail that didn’t belong to her. It belonged to her new mysterious neighbor that no one had spoken to in the few months he’d lived next to her.

  ***

  Vin heard knocking and was just going to ignore it. There was no reason for anyone to be knocking on his door. He had no family or friends around. He met with most of his clients at his office when needed. That meant whoever was at the door was an unwanted interruption.

  But the knocking didn’t stop. It only got louder. “Hello. I know you’re home. I noticed your car out back.”

  Damn. What the hell? He marched to the door and yanked it open to find the cookie lady standing there. She was taller than he thought she’d be, but still much shorter than him.

  “Yes?” he asked impatiently.

  “Vincent Steele?” He narrowed his eyes on her. How the hell did she find out his name? “Wow. You can be a little scary when you do that with your face.” She ruined it by giggling. Guess he wasn’t scary enough.

  “Vin,” he said.

  “Hi, Vin. I’m Piper Fielding. I live next door and I got some of your mail in my box today,” she said, holding it up proudly like it was some prize she was awarded.

  He snatched it out of her hand. “Thanks.”

  He was going to just shut the door, but she stopped him when she asked, “Are you in the service?” Her eyes roaming over his body should have fed his ego, but it only annoyed him that she was still talking.

  “No.”

  “Oh. I thought maybe by the letter that you were.”

  Fi
gures the one piece of mail that was delivered wrong had to be something from the army. “Nope. Not in the service,” he said again.

  “Okay. Well, if you were I was going to thank you for serving our country.”

  She was standing there smiling at him and not looking as plain and ordinary as he’d thought by the picture on her webpage. Her brown hair was pulled back, exposing a lean neck and sharp cheekbones. Brown eyes and a huge smile dominated her face. That smile was engaging and contagious, only his immune system was strong enough to not be infected.

  “Not anymore,” he said before he could stop himself. Before he realized he’d said more than he wanted to say. Before he opened up a can of worms and it occurred to him that not only did she know his name, but also a part of his past. Maybe he was weaker than he thought.

  “Well, then I still get to thank you.”

  She was still standing there in his doorway, making no attempt to leave. He should just shut it in her face, but he couldn’t be that rude, even if he wanted to. He never used to be like that before, and had to keep reminding himself that he needed to find who he was from years ago. Not who he lost all that time protecting his country. The hard outer shell he’d built around himself so he didn’t feel. That shell didn’t crack, it was blown to pieces. Now he felt too much.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, figuring it might get her to leave. “Thanks for the cookies.” He couldn’t very well ignore the fact that she’d dropped them off three times now. His mother would proudly scold him like no tomorrow if she knew he hadn’t thanked Piper yet. But his mother wasn’t here and he would never admit it to her anyway.

  “Oh. Did you like them? I tried to give you something different each time. I own Sweet Eats. Just in case you thought maybe I was stealing them or something.”

  He wasn’t going to confess that he’d done a background check on her, even if her grin was making his own lips twitch. “Well, I appreciated them.”

  She was still standing there staring at him, like she wanted to be invited in, but no way in hell was that happening. “I’m glad. I treat most of the people in the building. Just didn’t want you to think you were special.”

  It was the way she said it, like she was mocking him now and he found it rather funny. Enough that the corner of his lips curled up a tad and he replied with, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She tried to peek around his shoulder to look in his apartment, but he was the wall that wasn’t budging. “I guess I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”

  “Thanks,” he said, then shut the door.

  He didn’t give her a chance to say anything else. He didn’t trust himself to continue to talk to her. Her smile, her voice, her laughter. He felt like he was dreaming again, and for once he didn’t want to wake up. Maybe he was running a fever. Maybe she really was contagious after all.

  Instead, he walked back into his apartment and sat at his computer. He wanted to go sit on the terrace and get some air, but he’d heard her moving around out there before she knocked on his door. He’d been avoiding the terrace when she was home.

  He realized that he was hungry now and didn’t have much in the way of food in his house. He could order takeout, but wasn’t in the mood to wait.

  Grabbing his keys and wallet, he left the building and made his way to his car. Just as he was climbing in, he looked up and saw Piper sitting on her terrace waving her arm wildly at him, that huge smile on her face.

  He lifted his hand up, acknowledged that he saw her, not that he could have avoided it. She might as well have been standing there stripping and waving her red shirt. Now why did that thought pop into his head?

  He needed some food, a beer, and then he needed to get a grip. This was why he spent so much time alone.

  Watching You

  “What can I get you, Vin?”

  “The usual,” he said to the bartender. Chip maybe. Chad? Charlie? He couldn’t remember the guy’s name right now. He’d tried not to become a regular here, but it didn’t work out that way.

  A pint was put in front of him and his order of a burger and fries placed with the waitress that just walked by.

  This place started out as a neutral location to meet some clients. Nothing major, just casual. Some of the men he met with preferred this to his office and that was fine. Then, little by little, Vin found himself coming here more often for a quick dinner or beer. To clear his head.

  To not be so alone.

  He’d never given his name, but he’d used his credit card a time or two. That was all it took to be called Vincent and for him to correct them and say, “Vin.” Now it was like he belonged when he told himself to never belong anywhere again. Should he be upset over that? If he was supposed to be, he wasn’t, and wondered what it could mean.

  “Catch any of the Yankee game last night?”

  “No,” Vin said, lifting his beer. The game was playing on the TV over the bar, but baseball had never been his thing. He knew big names and teams and not much else. Not unless he needed to know for a job, or if it came in handy to bond with a potential client. Not that he bonded with many people.

  “It was a long one last night. Thirteen innings. Never thought I’d be able to shut it off.”

  “All you have to do is hit the button on the remote,” Vin said dryly.

  “What fun would that be?”

  Vin shrugged and started eating the minute his burger was placed in front of him, happy that he was served so fast. The bartender moved away and started to chat up another patron.

  When Vin heard giggling, he turned his head quick to see the source, an image of Piper jumping into his head. Instead of long brown hair pulled back, big eyes, and a bright smile, he saw a blonde with a lot of makeup and a flirtatious grin she was sending his way.

  He nodded and went back to eating, not interested. Maybe another night or another time, but not tonight.

  Tonight he was trying to get his neighbor out of his head. The one that was sweet and wholesome and the type that he stayed away from, if they had the gumption to even stay in his presence. Normally his broody scowl sent them on their way with little to no words.

  Piper had more than gumption, he could tell right away. She was persistent and pushy, but not in a way to completely turn him off. If that had been the case, he would have slammed the door in her face after he snatched the envelope out of her hands.

  But he didn’t do that. No, he stood there and waited to see what she’d say. What she’d do. A challenge, maybe? Something he was lacking in his life.

  He pegged her well: she was nosy. Now he knew, and now he could steer clear of her just like he did everyone else in the building.

  He wasn’t there to make friends

  He wasn’t there to socialize.

  He was there to live. To move on. To find some peace.

  He wasn’t going to be able to do any of those things if he was chatting with the neighbors. It’s not who he was or who he’d ever be again.

  After tossing some bills on the bar, he got up and decided to go home. He’d find something to watch on TV until his eyes were heavy enough that they’d fall on their own. He doubted they’d stay shut, though. Maybe someday, but he was sure that someday wasn’t going to be tonight.

  He was just shutting his car door in his building’s parking lot when he heard heavy breathing and loud feet on the pavement. He turned his head and saw Piper running toward him. If it wasn’t for the exercise gear she was sporting, he’d think she was being chased. She sure wasn’t the most graceful of runners.

  “Hi, Vin,” she said, coming to a stop next to him. “Twice in one day. Imagine that.”

  “Yeah, imagine that.”

  She laughed at his mumbled words. “It’s such a beautiful night out, I thought I’d go for a run. Sometimes I get itchy feet.”

  He knew that feeling well. “That’s nice.”

  “Not much of a talker, are you?” she asked, walking beside him into the building. He was trapped unless he
wanted to be rude, which he wouldn’t be. Even if he was, he was sure it’d bounce right off of her like a balloon hitting a wall.

  “Not usually.”

  “I like to talk. The silence gets on my nerves.”

  “Not surprising.”

  “You’re funny,” she said when he opened the door to hold it for her. Before he could say anything else, she stopped and whipped her head around quickly and looked out across the parking lot to the apartment buildings on the other side, then darted around in all directions.

  “What? What is it?” He was reaching for a gun that wasn’t there and had to tell himself to take a breath. Get a grip.

  She waited a second, then laughed. “Nothing. Sometimes I get this feeling that someone is watching me. No biggie. Just my imagination, I’m sure.”

  She hadn’t noticed his sudden movement, thankfully. He followed her gaze and looked around, didn’t notice anything, but didn’t move forward, either. “Did you just feel it now? Or when you were running too?”

  “Just now. It’s good. I tend to be jumpy. Probably has to do with my past.”

  She shrugged and started walking. She couldn’t just say that and not expand. He couldn’t let it go. Instead, he found himself asking, “Why?”

  “Why what?” Piper made her way to the staircase and held the door for him.

  “Why would that have to do with your past? Are you running from the law? Running from someone?”

  “No,” she said, grinning at him. “Why would you think that?”

  He could tell this conversation was going to give him a headache. But in good conscience, he couldn’t let it drop without knowing more. “Do you often feel like someone is watching you?”

  “Now and again. Like I said, I’m sure it’s just because of my childhood.”

  He wanted to grind his teeth. What happened to her being chatty?

  They’d gotten to the third floor and he held the door for her to proceed. When she stopped in front of her apartment, she turned to say, “Thanks for chatting with me.” She opened her door and took a step in, but he wasn’t moving. “Would you like to come in for a drink?” she asked.