turned into a jog as she turned the corner to where Reed’s door was and collided with someone turning from the opposite direction. She let out a small squeal, her heart thundering, jumping back, her gaze flying up to . . . Reed.
“Hey,” he said, stepping forward and reaching for her upper arms, steadying her. “I heard the elevator and was coming out to meet you. Are you okay?”
Liza let out a small, somewhat hysterical-sounding laugh, feeling utterly ridiculous, and still shaky. “Yes, I’m fine.” She shook her head, holding up the grocery bags. “I went to the grocery store and then the elevator stopped and went dark for a minute. I . . . I sort of panicked.”
He frowned, taking her in, his gaze moving from her damp brow, to the bags in her hand that were shaking along with the tremors moving through her body.
He took the groceries from her and her shoulders shifted with the lack of weight. “That fucking elevator,” Reed swore. “Liza, I’m so sorry. I’ll put in a call to maintenance. These old buildings are full of character but have far too many glitches.”
“No, it’s okay, really. I . . . survived.” Barely. A final tremble moved through her. She looked behind her into the hallway from which she’d come. “I thought I heard someone in the stairwell though,” she said, realizing no one had emerged.
Reed’s gaze moved over her face quickly and then he walked around her to the stairwell door, opening it and looking down and then up. He turned back, walking toward her. “No one. They must have been going to a different floor.”
She nodded and blew out a breath, trying to appear calm as Reed led her inside his apartment, where they went to the kitchen and he set the bags down. “I got ingredients to make stir-fry,” she said. “I hope you like that.”
He nodded, giving her the ghost of a smile as his gaze moved over her again as though assessing if she was really okay. “I do. Let me wash up and I’ll help.”
He came back in the room a few minutes later, his shirtsleeves rolled up and holding a folder in his hands, which he set on the counter. Work, she figured.
A feeling of well-being descended as Liza asked him about his day as they chopped vegetables and went about making dinner together, and she told him about hers. She’d gone to the gym where she was a member and swam laps in the pool and then had taken advantage of the sauna. Then she’d come back and treated herself to an afternoon of Netflix. She tried to sound cheery as she talked about it, but Reed smiled at her knowingly as he set two plates on the table.
“You hate this. Not working.”
She let out a huff of breath as she began opening a bottle of wine and peeked up at him. “Yeah. I do. But you know, it’s good practice for me. I’ve never . . . enjoyed my own company, I guess. So I’m looking at this week as . . . therapy. You know how I like self-applied therapy,” she said, giving him a wry smile as she handed him a glass of wine.
He chuckled, swirling his wine and tilting his head as his brows dipped. “I do have some personal insight into that.” Their eyes held for a moment. Yes, you do, don’t you? She had the urge to apologize to him, but that felt awkward, and it was not the time. She looked away, walking to the stove where she dished up their food and brought a bowl of chicken and vegetables, and a bowl of brown rice to the table.
They sat down and dug into the food, chatting about mundane things for a bit, and it felt good. It felt normal and average and absolutely everything Liza had ever craved in her life. I could so easily fall in love with you, Reed Davies, she thought, and though a trickle of fear followed the thought so did a sparkle of something else. Happiness? Hope? She wasn’t sure. It was a new feeling, one she’d never felt before.
Reed took a sip of his wine and then stood, reaching for the folder he’d left on the counter. “I hate to start talking about this damn case at home,” he said, flipping the folder open, “but I need to show you a couple of photos and ask if you recognize the people in