was equally firm. A reluctant smile tilting her lips, she finally accepted the Pyrex dish.
“Thanks,” she murmured. The word was almost painful.
Then, before he could do or say anything else, she kicked the door shut.
Chapter Six
It took three days for the Pyrex dish to appear on Evan’s doorstep.
He came home from work one day to find it sitting there on top of a tea towel, sparklingly clean. There was no note, or anything else to distinguish the return of the dish from a fairy gift.
At least she’d eaten it. Though she’d taken her damn time.
Evan picked up the dish and let himself in, his muscles aching from another long day at work. A day during which Daniel Burne had forced himself into Evan’s presence as much as possible, trying his best to be charming.
As if Evan would just forget how the man had treated an innocent woman.
Of course, for the sake of his job, he bore the ingratiating falseness. He nodded, and tried his best to smile, and swallowed down the words Fuck off. Honestly, that was the best he could do.
Evan put the dish away before heading straight to the shower. He usually went for a run after work, but today, his muscles were screaming. He knew not to push himself too hard. Not when his strength was his livelihood.
As he stood under the steaming water, Evan put a hand to the tiled wall at his left. The wall he shared with Ruth.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he heard the pipes on her side of the wall flare to life. The wall was so fucking thin. It was worse in his bedroom; he could hear the creak of her bed every time she lay down. They’d barely spoken, but Evan knew that she slept restlessly, that her bed must be poorly made, and that she showered at odd hours. It made him feel weirdly connected to her in a way neither of them had earned.
Evan’s mother had always said that things happened for a reason. He’d believed her, until she’d died.
He was wondering, though, if this had happened for a reason—he and Ruth being neighbours. She rarely left the house, she never had any visitors, and if Daniel Burne, the town’s darling, treated her like shit… other people probably did too.
And she didn’t have an oven. Evan shuddered at the thought of her surviving on Supernoodles. He wasn’t sure why, exactly, but the thought disturbed him more than it should.
Maybe because he liked her so much. He’d always liked prickly people. In fact, Evan suspected that he and Ruth could be great friends one day.
If she’d allow it.
He reached for some body wash as he pondered the Ruth conundrum further. She’d eaten the pie—which suggested she’d enjoyed it, right? If she was really happy with ready meals, she would’ve thrown out the whole thing and returned his dish the next day. Right?
So, he should make her something else. It’s not like he’d be going out of his way; he was still cooking for Zach and Shirley. He was cooking for himself. And Ruth was just next door.
It was the neighbourly thing to do.
An hour later, Evan was standing on Ruth’s doorstep, waiting for her to answer, being bombarded by second thoughts.
He hadn’t expected his odd neighbour to be a young woman living alone, but—well, she was. He knew that now. And it had suddenly occurred to him that his mother’s friendly neighbour routine might not be quite so effective coming from a fairly large man.
What if Ruth had been so eager to get rid of him a few days ago because she was… scared?
Just as his mind landed on that worrying conclusion, the door to 1A swung open.
Hands on her hips, Ruth somehow seemed tall despite being quite the opposite. Her halo of dark, crinkly hair created the illusion of height, but her vaguely threatening aura multiplied that by five.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
Evan decided with some relief that, whatever else she was, she wasn’t scared.
“I brought you a lasagne.” He held out the dish.
She rolled her eyes heavenward. “How very… unnecessary.”
Then, before he could think of a retort, she turned and walked away.
Leaving the front door open.
After a moment’s hesitation, Evan stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
Her narrow hallway was plain and nondescript—except for the enormous stack of magazines piled against the far wall. That stack was about chest-height to Evan. It probably reached Ruth’s shoulders.
His brow furrowed, he stepped forward to take