The Man Next Door. GINA WILKINS
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isn’t it?”
Some people said that sort of thing almost routinely, not knowing what else to say. Because Teague had lost his parents, she took the quiet question the way he’d probably intended it. Literally. “Yes, very hard. Do you want mustard or mayo?”
“Mustard.”
“Lettuce?”
“Yes, please. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“An older sister, newly married, no children yet, and a younger brother, a single college student. You?”
Chuckling at the concise efficiency of her reply, he shook his head. “No siblings.”
She set the sandwich and a handful of baked chips in front of him, noticing that he’d almost emptied his cocoa mug already. “Do you want something else to go with this? Cola? Iced tea?”
“Tea sounds good. Aren’t you eating?”
“Not right now. I had a late lunch with one of my piano students and her mother.”
He swallowed a big bite of the sandwich. “It’s good,” he murmured. “Thank you.”
Setting a glass of iced tea in front of him, she took a seat across the table, her cooling cocoa gripped loosely between her hands. “You’re welcome.”
“This is nice,” he said, smiling companionably at her. “It’s good to have friends in the building.”
Friends. She was beginning to think that really was all he wanted from her. She had to admit that was a rather new concept for her. She wasn’t even sure it was entirely feasible—but she couldn’t help but be intrigued by the possibility.
So what did one talk about with a guy who only wanted to be friends? Searching her mind, she came up with, “How long have you worked for the FBI?”
“Almost eight years. I tried a few different jobs after college before sort of stumbling into this when I was twenty-five.”
“And are you—I don’t know what you call it. A special agent?”
He smiled patiently. “Yes. That’s what we’re called.”
“So you track down bad guys and stuff?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“Do you like it?”
He didn’t seem to quite know how to answer what she had thought of as a simple question. “It’s my job,” he said after a pause. “I guess you could say it’s pretty much who I am.”
“So you aren’t tired of it?”
“Not tired of it. Just plain tired, at times,” he replied with a wry twist to his mouth. “The hours have been pretty long lately.”
“I’ve noticed. Don’t you get vacation time?”
“I have some built up. I’m thinking about taking some days off around the holidays this year. Maybe I’ll go see my stepmother. I could use some beach time.”
“Sounds nice. I’ll be going home to Atlanta for Thanksgiving.”
He cocked his head. “Do I detect a hint of reluctance?”
“Oh. You know. Family.”
He smiled. “Even though I haven’t had a lot of dealings with family, I’ve heard enough from others to understand what you mean.”
“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t sound insensitive.”
“No, you didn’t. What’s your family like?”
She laughed shortly. “That’s a little hard to answer. Why do you ask?”
“Not having much of a family of my own, I guess I’m curious about other people’s.”
When he put it that way, it seemed churlish not to at least attempt a reply. “My grandmother is nosy, blunt-spoken, addicted to celebrity gossip and rabidly loyal when it comes to her friends and family. Mother’s sort of flaky, has an incurable addiction to cutesy country decor and has a heart as big as Georgia. Rachel’s a talented interior designer, the smart, capable, organized one in the family. She’s married to a nice, good-looking physician, Mark Brannon.
“My brother, Clay, is still figuring out who and what he is. He came close to turning into a real loser a year or so ago, but Mark’s been a good influence on him. Clay seems to be trying to make something of himself now. He’s a decent guy, really, just drifted into the wrong crowd for a while.”
“That happens.” Popping the last chip into his mouth, Teague crunched, swallowed, washed it down with a sip of tea, then asked, “How would your family describe you, if I asked them?”
She grimaced. “Let’s just say I’m working to change the way they would describe me.”
He digested that with a thoughtful nod. “So, how’d you end up in Little Rock?”
“I needed a change of scenery.” Which was all she intended to tell him about that. Her college scholarship, the money her grandmother had given her to fund the move and help her get set up in the piano-lesson business, the reasons she’d felt the need for that change of scenery—all of that was more than a casually friendly neighbor needed to know.
Something about the way he looked at her let her know he’d read a lot more than she’d intended into her nonanswer, but he let it go. He stood and carried his plate, glass and cocoa mug to the sink, where he rinsed and stacked them. “Thanks for the food,” he said. “I needed the boost before I go out again.”
“You’re going out again tonight?” She tilted her head, listening to the rain still hammering against the windows. “In this?”
“No choice,” he said with a shrug. “Working a case.”
“At the risk of sounding like Mrs. Parsons, you really shouldn’t work so hard.”
He grinned and chucked her chin lightly with his knuckles. “Trust me, you look nothing like Mrs. Parsons.”
Wondering how to take that, she followed him to the door. “So, should I advise you to be careful tonight?”
“Sure. It’s always nice to have someone express concern.”
“Okay, then I will. Be careful.”
He paused in the doorway, one foot out in the hall. “Wor ried about me?”
She waved a hand in a negligent gesture. “You’re a decent neighbor. Quiet. Handy with furniture crises. Since you never know what you’re going to get with neighbors, I’d just as soon not have to deal with a new one.”
He laughed. “Trust you to keep my ego in check.”
Because that was so close to the things she’d thought about him, she laughed, too.
He took another step out. “See you around, Dani.”
“Teague?” His name left her before she’d planned what she was going to ask.
“Yeah?”
Oh, what the heck. It was going to drive her nuts if she didn’t get this cleared up. “You aren’t going to ask me out, are you?”
His grin widened. “Nope.”
“Not your type?”
He looked rather smugly delighted that she’d asked. “Too high maintenance.”
Surprised, she lifted an eyebrow. “You think so?”
“Honey, I know so.” He turned and strode down the hall way toward his door, saying over his shoulder, “Thanks again for the cocoa and the sandwich.”
Rather bemused, Dani closed her door and turned the lock. After a moment she started to laugh.
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