“How boring.”
I jerked around at his teasing tone and found his eyes glittering at me. “It’s called respecting a woman.”
“It is called not living life to the fullest.” He started to descend the stairs. “Maybe if you got yourself laid, you’d relax a wee bit.”
I sniffed, denying even to myself that his perception of me stung. “I am perfectly relaxed.”
“Oh, you sound it,” he called up, his infuriating chuckle trailing up to me as his head disappeared from sight.
“Argggh.” I smacked my clutch against my door before throwing it open and slamming it shut behind me. The clutch went sailing down the hall of my flat in my anger. “Damn the man!”
Next time I was bloody well going to get in the last word.
CHAPTER 3
“Bugger, bugger, bugger,” I muttered as I attempted to retrieve my keys from my purse while trying to juggle three shopping bags filled with food.
A large hand suddenly tugged on the handles of one of the bags and I jerked my head up in fright. My gaze clashed with Logan MacLeod’s. “Wha—”
The bag was in his hand and the second and third followed quickly into his other.
I stared up at his serious expression, bemused. “I didn’t even hear you come up behind me.” He certainly moved quietly for a big man.
Instead of speaking, he gestured to the front door of our building.
Flustered, my hands shook a little as I tugged my keys out and selected the right one. I let us inside. “I can carry them now. Thank you.”
His blank face and refusal to give me back the shopping bags forced me to keep walking. I stopped at flat one on the ground floor and knocked. Logan halted in confusion. Before I could explain, the door to the flat opened and I was faced with my favorite neighbor, Mr. Jenner, and his cheery disposition.
“Ah, Gracie, there you are.” He grinned at me, his smile faltering a little when he glanced beyond me. “Oh, you have company?”
“Mr. Jenner, this is Mr. MacLeod. He just moved into the building. He very kindly offered to carry your shopping.”
I heard Logan’s grunt behind me and didn’t know whether it pertained to my diplomatic retelling of the situation or the fact that the shopping bags weren’t for me.
“Oh, how kind.” Mr. Jenner smiled at Logan. “Come in. Come in.”
I looked at Logan and he stared at me, his eyebrow raised in question.
“I do Mr. Jenner’s shopping for him every week. I can carry them inside if you like.” I held out my hand for the bags.
“I’ve got them.” He brushed past me, and I followed him into Mr. Jenner’s flat.
The elderly gentleman lost his wife a few years ago, only a few short months after I moved into the building. His son had arranged for a cleaner to visit once a week, but she wanted more money to do the shopping, so I had offered to do it for free because the Jenners were kind and welcoming to me from the moment I moved in.
I watched Logan as he glanced around the small, well-kept flat, wondering if he was really listening to Mr. Jenner’s chitchat as he followed our neighbor into his kitchen.
I realized I had been so busy watching Logan I hadn’t heard Mr. Jenner’s chitchat and was thus confused when Logan offered, “I’ll take a look at it.”
“Look at what?” I said, immediately diving into the bags Logan had placed on the counter. I started putting the perishables away in the refrigerator.
“Mr. Jenner’s washing machine is playing up. I’ll have a look at it.”
“Are you qualified to do that?” I said, still curious about exactly what it was he did for a living.
“Yes. I have a Ph.D. in washing-machine technology.”
I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm.