The Man Next Door

“Thanks. Um, maybe you want to get a pizza or something sometime? I’ve only lived in this city a couple of months and I haven’t met many people my age yet. As for single guys—I don’t think they exist around here.”

Dani laughed. “They exist. It’s just that the pickings seem pretty slim at times. And yeah, give me a call sometime when you’re taking a break from studying and we’ll order pizza and watch chick films.”

Hannah smiled. “That sounds like fun. It’ll give me incentive to keep studying for this test.”

So now she had another potential friend in the building, Dani thought as she stepped into the elevator, tucking her big tote bag more snugly beneath her arm. An old woman, a frazzled med student and a sexy fed. A diverse group, that, and she didn’t know which one was the more surprising as a friend.

As for which was the more disturbing—well, no question there. Only one of them had an uncomfortable habit of showing up unbidden in her daydreams.

Pushing that errant thought to the back of her mind, she moved to the back of the car when a young woman and her infant got on the elevator on the second floor. Nodding a greeting, she reflected on how her life had changed since she’d moved away from Georgia. She’d had dozens of friends there. An active social life. A growing reputation as a club singer. Family.

Now, with some distance behind her, she could see that former life a bit more clearly. Many of her friends had been of the fair-weather variety, hanging around only for the good times, notably absent during the bad. Her social life had consisted of a series of empty, unsatisfying relationships that had eventually led to a nearly disastrous affair with a man who’d almost destroyed her pride and self-esteem—and had once even resorted to physical violence. The clubs had been where she had met the string of losers and users she’d dated. And her family, while loving and well intentioned, had made it much too easy for her to continue her self-destructive ways by always bailing her out of trouble.

She had spent the past year trying to make a better life for herself. Pursuing a degree. Paying her own bills with money she made from her piano students, learning to deal with her own problems. Dating rarely, and then only on her own terms.

She didn’t really miss the people she’d hung out with, since she had stayed in occasional contact with the real friends in the group. She missed singing in the clubs sometimes. Frankly, she had enjoyed the applause. Though she knew she had talent, she had never particularly craved a career in the entertainment business. And she still sang quite often in the music department at the university, but she made little effort to take any starring parts.

She had finally, belatedly arrived at the conclusion that she didn’t need a spotlight to make her feel good about herself. Just as she didn’t need a man’s approval to validate her self-worth. She had been fortunate to figure that out at a relatively young age, and after only one painfully dysfunctional relationship. It took some women years to come to the same conclusion. Others, unfortunately, never got there, drifting from one bad situation to another, looking to others for something they could never seem to find within themselves.

And she was falling into psych-student-think, she realized with a grimace, climbing into her vehicle on her way to several scheduled piano lessons. It was typical of the average psychology student to either try to identify everyone around with some exotic neurosis, or to try to self-diagnose those same problems. Maybe she should just concentrate on her schedule for the rest of the day. Her life was on track now, and she intended to keep it that way.

Dani opened the back of her miniature SUV and studied the wooden rocking chair angled precariously inside. She’d barely been able to fit it in, and then only after several tries and assistance from a couple of helpful—and flirtatious—teenage boys. She smiled, remembering how cute they’d been with their swaggering and posturing, and then felt a bit old for thinking of them that way.

Reaching into her vehicle, she got a good grasp on the chair, preparing to haul it out.

“Hang on a minute.” Teague spoke from right behind her. “Let me help you with that.”

While she hadn’t minded accepting help from the teenagers, doing so from Teague was a little different. “I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can, but you said I was handy with furniture, remember? When you listed the reasons why I made a pretty good neighbor. I don’t want to risk my rep.”

After a very brief mental debate, she stepped back, deciding that accepting his assistance with this relatively minor task was hardly admitting helplessness. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He worked the chair carefully out of the SUV, taking pains to do no damage to either. “It almost didn’t fit in there, huh?”

“It took some effort,” she agreed.

“Nice chair.”

“I bought it at a garage sale down the street. I love rocking chairs, and when I saw it sitting there, I had to stop.”

“It’s in really good shape. Looks comfortable.”

“Yeah. I was lucky to spot it before someone else did. The lady I bought it from said she forgot to set it out earlier. It could stand to be refinished eventually, but I think it looks fine for now.”

Carrying the chair toward the building entrance, Teague asked, “Do you shop at garage sales often?”

She shrugged, following him to the elevator. “I’ve found a few bargains that way. I don’t have a lot of extra money for decorating right now, so garage sales are a good resource.”

“Your apartment looks nice. Wherever you shop, you choose nice things.”

“Thanks.” The offhanded compliment pleased her more than it should have. “My sister’s the one with the decorating talent. Maybe I picked up a few tips from her along the way.”

“Or maybe you have talent of your own,” he suggested, hauling the rocker into the elevator.

She laughed when he set the chair down and took a seat as the elevator rose. “Comfy?”

“Mmm.” He yawned and rocked slowly. “I could probably take a nap right here.”

“You do look tired,” she commented, studying the shadows beneath his closed eyes.

“Thanks a lot,” he murmured without lifting his lids.

“I haven’t seen you around for the past week.”

“Been working out of town. Got back late last night.”

He looked really good sitting in her rocker with his eyes closed, his jeaned legs stretched out in front of him, hands crossed on his stomach. She had to clear her throat silently before asking, “Where have you been?”

“Oh. You know. I could tell you, but then—”

She rolled her eyes. “You’d have to kill me,” she said, completing the tired, overused joke.

“No. I was going to say, but then you’d have to pretend to be interested,” he said, opening his eyes with a smart-aleck grin.

She laughed as the elevator doors opened. “So, when you’re finished with your nap, would you mind bringing the chair to my place?”

He sighed heavily and lumbered to his feet, hoisting the rocking chair up again while she held the elevator doors open.

“Where do you want it?” he asked when she opened her apartment door.

“Just set it in that corner,” she said, pointing. “I’ll decide exactly where I want it later.”

“No problem.” He deposited the chair, then headed for the door. “See you later, Dani.”

“Can I offer you a soft drink or anything before you go?” she asked. “As a thank-you for bringing up my chair?”

“I’ll take a rain check, if you don’t mind. I’ve got plans for tonight and I need to clean up first.”

“Okay. Well…thank you.”

He shot her a smile. “You’re welcome.”

He let himself out.

Dani sat in the rocking chair, stroking her hands down the worn-smooth maple arms. It was only her imagination, of course, that the seat was still warm from Teague sitting in it.

She wondered about his plans for the evening. Was he working again? Or socializing? Was he seeing someone? Someone he considered less “high maintenance” than her? Someone who could enjoy his company without worrying about getting too deeply involved, or losing herself in a one-sided relationship?