The rest of my afternoon passes quietly, with no sign of Todd. I finish up a few smaller pieces earmarked to go into the gallery – the smaller paintings are popular with tourists who want to take home a visual reminder of the lake. The UPS truck drops off a shipment of postcard-sized prints of my paintings, also good sellers for price-conscious customers looking for unique and meaningful souvenirs of their time in Chicago.
At six o’clock, I lock up the shop and head for home. When I reach my building, I come across my new neighbor out front with his dog, a large Yellow Labrador Retriever wearing what I now realize is a service-dog harness. The dog is clearly little more than a big puppy.
At the sight of Jamie, my heart starts racing and I feel the fluttering of tiny butterflies in my belly. No man has the right to look that good.
I debate whether to stop to speak to him or just head inside the building. I hardly know the man, and yet he is my neighbor. There’d be nothing wrong with me stopping a moment to chat with him. Just being a friendly neighbor, right?
I take a deep breath and remind myself I’m a grown-up now, not a high school wallflower. “Hi, Jamie.”
“Molly, hi.” Jamie tugs gently on the dog’s harness, and the dog sits, gazing up at me hopefully with his big soulful eyes. “This is Gus.”
“Can I pet him?”
“Sure. Technically, you’re not supposed to pet a service dog, but Gus isn’t officially in service. He flunked out of his training program because he’s afraid of water. But I’d already fallen in love with him, so I arranged to adopt him as a pet. I’ve been working on furthering his training myself.”
“A Lab afraid of water?” I say. “I thought they love water.”
Jamie nods. “Yeah. It’s hard to believe, I know.”
I offer Gus the back of my hand to sniff, and he licks it, then nudges my hand with his nose. Taking that as a good sign, I scratch beneath his chin, then reach up to gently stroke a velvety soft ear. He groans in delight and rolls his head, leaning into my touch. For a crazy second, I imagine his owner doing the same thing. “He’s very laid back.”
Jamie laughs. “He is, as long as it’s not raining. Then I have to fend for myself.”
“We can’t all be perfect,” I say, thinking of my interaction with Todd earlier that afternoon and his blatant disapproval of my body. And if Jamie needs a service dog, then he’s got issues of his own too.
“No, we can’t,” Jamie says. “I guess that’s why I had such a soft spot for him. I could relate. I’ve got my own imperfections.”
Jamie McIntyre is a temptingly handsome man, physically certainly, but I’m starting to realize that his personality is just as attractive as the outward package. I already know he’s kind and empathetic. And despite being so darn attractive, he doesn’t seem to have a big ego – and that makes me like him even more.
I think back to how naïve and inexperienced I was when I started dating Todd in college. He was my first, and only, serious boyfriend, and he swept me off my feet easily. That sun-kissed blond hair and those baby blue eyes dazzled my naïve, twenty-year-old self. Before I’d even graduated with an art degree from University of Chicago, I’d found myself married.
Todd was a little self-absorbed even in the beginning, but he was a nice guy, and he’d treated me well. It wasn’t until the past couple of years that I began to see troubling aspects in his personality.
“Well, I’m heading inside,” I say, taking my leave.
The door opens and in walks James McIntyre. He heads straight toward me. As it appears he’s headed my way – or, rather toward the mailboxes – I take a quiet step back to get out of his way.
He pauses and cocks his head just the slightest bit. “Molly?”
His voice is deep and resonant, and it makes my nerve endings tingle. It fits his appearance – male, rugged, too handsome for his own good. He’s wearing those dark glasses, though, and I still can’t see the color of his eyes.
“Yes,” I stammer, embarrassed at being caught gawking at him. I close the door to my mail cubby and turn the little brass key to lock it. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your way.”
“Take your time. Has the mail come?”
I wave my little stack of white envelopes in the air. “Yes.” And then I remember he’s new to the building and probably doesn’t know the routine. “Our mail carrier’s always here by noon – you could set your clock by her.”
I take another step back as he heads in my direction, fishing a key out of the front pocket of his jeans. Then he lays his hand on the wall, sliding it over to feel his way to his assigned mailbox. I wonder if he has impaired vision – is that why he has a service dog? His fingers glide over to locate the lock, and he inserts his key. Damn it, even his hands are sexy, with those long fingers with trim, blunt nails. He’s got quite a lot of mail jammed into that little box – mostly real mail, not the junk fliers I usually receive.
I glance down at my own mail and see his envelope on the top, and it reminds me. “This was put in my mailbox by mistake.” I hold the envelope in question out to him, but he doesn’t take it. The moment drags out into two, and I feel awkward.
“Here, this is yours,” I say, slipping the envelope into his hand.
His broad shoulders lift as he sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize you were handing me something. I’m blind.”
Blind? As in completely blind? “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”
The corner of his mouth lifts with a small smile. “There’s no need to apologize.”
I find myself staring at him, barely following what he’s saying. He’s – well, he’s really nice to look at. Up close, I can see how broad his chest is, and inside his open black leather jacket, I can just make out a lean waist. He has a straight blade of a nose and wide, beautifully-shaped lips. His cheeks and jaw are covered with a neatly trimmed beard.
“Well, I’m right next door,” I say. “If you ever need anything, just let me know.”
“I will. Thanks, Molly.” Jamie reaches down to pat Gus on the head. “Gus and I are headed down the street to pick up some Chinese carryout. Would you like to join us?”
His invitation takes me by surprise. He hardly knows me. Why would he ask me to join him? “Um, sure. I’d love to.” I’d planned to heat up some leftovers for dinner, nothing special. But the truth is, I’d jump at the chance to spend time with him. I can have a self-indulgent, secret crush on the guy, and he’ll never know. I can simply sit back and enjoy his company.
He steps forward and holds out his arm to me. “Do you mind?”
It takes me a moment to catch on. Oh! I guess it’s my turn to act as his eyes. He’s asking me to guide him. I smile, relieved he can’t see my pleased reaction, and secretly thrilled at the opportunity to touch him. I link my arm with his. “I don’t mind.”
The three of us stroll down the sidewalk, with me on one side of Jamie and Gus on the other. The warm weight of his arm linked with mine is both comforting and scintillating. Even through the sleeves of our coats, I can feel how firm his muscles are.
Acting as his tour guide, I tell him a little bit about the neighborhood – at least the little bit I know as I’ve only lived here a year myself. I’m still learning about the place. I give him a description of each shop we pass and make recommendations for the best places to frequent. The pedestrian traffic flows easily around us, as most folks give us a wide berth. A couple of times I have to caution him about obstacles in our path, such as an oversized trash container in one spot and a sidewalk sign advertising ice cream in another.
It dawns on me that it would be hard for him to find a specific business without assistance if he wasn’t already familiar with the landmarks. He can’t just tell Gus, “Take me to Dragon City,” can he? Can a service dog learn the names of places? I wonder if the reason Jamie asked me to join him was simply so he could borrow my eyes.
“How do you find new places?” I ask him, my curiosity winning out. “How would you find the take-out place if I weren’t with you?”
His hands are full – holding Gus’s harness with one hand and my arm with the other, so he simply tips his chin toward his jacket pocket. “GPS. I don’t know how I’d survive without my phone.”
“Oh, right.” GPS, of course.
He tightens his hold on my arm. “But having you along for company is far more enjoyable than using GPS.”
I feel my cheeks heat up, and I’m pretty sure I’m blushing. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was flirting with me. But that’s impossible. He hardly knows me, and he can’t even see me. He has absolutely no idea what I look like. I could have four eyes and two horns for all he knows.
“Here we are,” I tell him, stopping outside our destination. There’s a steady stream of people in and out of the small carryout, and the aromas wafting out the open door are mouth-watering. Suddenly I’m starving.
Jamie releases my arm and holds the door for me. “After you,” he says.
I step inside the carryout, sure my face is still flushed. If anyone asks, I’ll blame it on the cold. Jamie and Gus follow me inside, and we place an order for two entrees, steamed rice, and a half dozen egg rolls.
When the cashier rings up our total, Jamie reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. Before I can say a word, he withdraws a credit card and hands it to the cashier, who swipes it in the machine.
“Wait! I’ll pay for my own.”
“It’s all right,” he says, putting his wallet away. “I’ve got it.”
“I should pay for my half of the meal,” I say, once we’ve stepped out of the way and are waiting on our order.
“Let me buy your meal. It’s the least I can do as a thank-you for accompanying me.”
For a moment, I’m at a loss for words. I’m not accustomed to men paying for me. Todd and I split every single expense right down the middle, including restaurant meals and date nights. Frankly, I’m a little out of my element here. Does it mean something that he’s paying for my meal? Does that make this a date?
When the cashier calls out our ticket number, Jamie and Gus step forward to collect our food. It’s my turn to hold the door, as Jamie has his hands full. Once we’re back out on the sidewalk, I’m not sure if he needs my arm or not to guide him back. Gus seems to be doing a pretty competent job of it. I don’t think Jamie needs my help. My question is answered, though, when Jamie offers me his arm. Secretly, I’m pleased as I slip my arm into the crook of his elbow.