So, so pathetic.
CHAPTER SIX
Colton parked his Lincoln SUV across the street from Gretchen’s house just before seven that night.
She lived in a stately Victorian that had been subdivided into individual apartments. A wide front porch wrapped around both sides of the house, one wing featuring a collection of worn wicker furniture and the other a large swing. He couldn’t picture Gretchen ever using either of them. It would require a willingness to slow down and relax, and she didn’t give off a put your feet up vibe.
He waited for a couple of slow-moving sedans to pass before crossing. The front door was unlocked and opened into a converted foyer with built-in mailboxes along one wall next to an intercom system. He searched for her apartment number and hit the buzzer. A moment passed before he heard her voice.
She offered no greeting, just a brusque instruction to use the stairs directly in front of him to the top floor. The staircase creaked beneath his footsteps as he followed her instructions. On the top floor, the stairs opened into a long hallway with a single door on the right. He’d just raised his hand to knock when the door opened.
Gretchen stood before him wearing a black turtleneck sweater, jeans that made his mouth water, and a scowl that made him smirk. “How’d you know?”
Her scowl deepened. “Know what?”
“That a woman in jeans and a black turtleneck does things for me.”
She turned around and left him standing in the doorway. He walked in to see her heading down a single dark hallway. “Where’re you going?”
“To change.”
He jogged around in front of her to block her path. “Don’t even think about it.”
She rolled her eyes. “I have to get my coat and my purse.”
She changed direction and instead walked to the small closet by the door to retrieve both, and as she did, he turned around to survey her living space. “You weren’t kidding, woman. You do hate Christmas.”
“Don’t call me woman,” she grumped, slipping on her coat. “And what was your first clue?”
“No tree?”
“Why would I spend money on something that only I would ever see?”
“Because it would make you happy.” Colton sauntered into the small living room, where the only pieces of furniture were a couch, a coffee table, and a small flat-screen TV atop a cheap particleboard table. There was a severity to her apartment, a starkness that struck him as both sad and startling. For a woman who exuded so much energy, she lived in a colorless sea that drained the life out of everything. Her couch was beige. The rug was gray. The cream-colored walls were devoid of any kind of artwork or photos. A circular table to the right of the living room looked like it spent more time as a workspace than a dining space. Stacks of folders and notebooks took up an entire half, and her laptop sat open but asleep on the other half. He wandered closer to the coffee table, which looked close to collapsing under the weight of a stack of nonfiction books about the death of democracy, the rise of global autocracy, and growing income equality in the United States.
She closed the closet door and turned around. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Judging my lack of decorating skills.”
“I’m just checking the place out.”
“You’re trying to psychoanalyze me based on the fact that I don’t waste money on cutesy throw pillows and Santa figurines.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re paranoid?”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re annoying?”
“Just you, darlin’。” He winked for good measure. “Ready to go?”
He opened the front door and waited as she stomped out. He chuckled over her shoulder as she locked the door. “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”
“So is your cologne.”
He laughed and reached for her hand. She shoved it deep in her pocket. “No way. We’re not holding hands.”
“Why not? This is a date.”
“It’s a hostage situation.”
Another laugh burst from his chest, but at the same time, the words needled him with guilt. He followed a step behind as Gretchen stomped down the stairs and into the entryway of the house. Her footsteps were heavy and loud as she descended the porch steps outside. Colton clicked his key fob to unlock his car, and she followed the chirp to the passenger side. He’d hoped to be a gentleman and open her door for her, but she beat him to it. She yanked the handle with all the attitude of a pissed-off teenager and climbed into the seat with equal exasperation. Colton reached for the door to at least close it for her, but she slammed it shut in his face.