But surely if she had left… she would have said something?
Taking a deep breath, he brushed at the front of his SUNY Caldwell sweatshirt. There were some paint streaks on the bottom and he pulled the hem up and took a whiff. Great. Cologne by Benjamin Moore.
He had to take these opportunities when he could, though.
The second the Tesla stopped by the walkway to the front door, all Nate wanted to do was break out of the car and bull-rush the entry, knocking the barrier down so that he could race up the stairs and check to make sure she hadn’t—
“Listen,” Shuli said in his best I’m-two-months-older-than-you voice, “tomorrow night’s going to be good for you, and I’ll make sure it’s chill. We’ll go to this new place, Dandelion. You’ll love it, and you don’t have to stay forever if you don’t want. You can just have a drink and see what happens.”
“I don’t know.” Nate popped the door handle. “It’s not something I’m really interested in. Besides, I’m guessing you’re going to be busy getting busy.”
Shuli threw out a hand and caught Nate’s upper arm. “It’s way better than… you know.”
“Better than what?”
“Coming out here every chance you get.”
Nate froze for a second. He thought he’d been smoother than that, and if Shuli had noticed—as self-absorbed as the guy was—who else knew he was kind of stalking the house?
Pulling out of a tailspin, he said, “What are you talking about. I’ve been here twice since we finished working on the garage, including right now.”
“And those were the two chances you had.”
Nate took his arm back. “I just need to get my sweatshirt.”
“Oh, really? The one that’s exactly like what you have on? And is worth twenty bucks, tops? Look, I don’t care about what you pretense to the rest of the world, but between you and me, we should be honest.”
“Pretend,” Nate muttered as he got out of the car.
Caught up in a surge of nervous, he closed the passenger-side door and forgot about Shuli, the guy’s big, fat, hairy opinion, and all the clubs that were, or ever had been, in Caldwell. Striding up to the front door, he tugged at his paint-smudged sweatshirt, stamped his work boots to get any mud off of them—and would have run a hand through his dark hair if Shuli hadn’t been riding up on his ass.
The door opened before he could knock.
“Good timing, dawn is close.” The social worker smiled as she stepped back. “Your sweatshirt’s in the kitchen.”
The female was just what you’d expect someone in her line of work to be, motherly, kind, soft-spoken. Shoot… what was her name? He’d been told a couple of times, but he always forgot it. He did remember her blue jeans, though. Wrangler. Not a brand he was familiar with—but like he knew anything about clothes?
“Thank you so much…” He returned her smile as he came inside—and hoped she didn’t catch his forgetfulness. “Oh, wow, smell the chocolate chip cookies.”
“They’re right out of the oven,” she said. “Every night, just like clockwork.”
As Nate walked through the living area, he could hear footsteps up on the second floor. They were heavy. A male’s.
“Has someone else moved in?” While he frowned at the ceiling, he reminded himself it wasn’t his house—and then straightened a throw pillow on a couch and tried to be casual about it. “Sounds like you have another resident.”
“We have a new one, yes.” The social worker went ahead into the gray-and-white kitchen and stopped at the inset desk by the eating table. “Here it is.”
His sweatshirt had never been treated so well. The thing was folded neatly, and as he took it, he could smell fabric softener.
“Thanks.” He glanced over to the stove, at the lines of cookies cooling on racks. “You know, those Toll Houses look great.”
“Help yourself.” The female headed over to the cupboard and took out a plate. “I always make a full batch even though there’s just three of us here. Old habits, you know. From Safe Place. Milk?”
“I’d love some. Shuli would, too.”
“Have a seat and I’ll wait on you guys.”
Pointedly ignoring his buddy’s double take, Nate pulled out one of the chairs and sat down at the table. Like the rest of the house, everything in the kitchen was neat as a pin, the stainless steel stovetop sparkling, the sink free of dirty dishes, the granite counters clear except for the cooling cookies.