Loving Him Off the Field (Santa Fe Bobcats #2)(60)

They both looked at each other, then laughed hard enough to have one of the deli workers look at them with a bewildered gaze.

Aileen wiped at the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. “This was nice. Thanks for trusting me.”

“My pleasure, and thank you for being trustworthy.” Cassie bit a chip with a crunch and grinned.

Aileen picked up her sub, then set it back down. “But if you and Trey ever decide to do an interview as a couple, I’m totally game. Just saying.”

Cassie laughed again.

*

Killian shuffled into the kitchen for dinner, determined to make himself something grown up and nutritious. After the lunch out—though he’d had chicken and vegetables—he knew his sodium was going to be way off the mark.

But after staring at the vegetable crisper for five minutes, he closed the door and grabbed a loaf of bread and peanut butter and made himself a sandwich. And ate it standing up. On a paper towel. Like a boss.

Peanut butter wasn’t on his top ten list of favorite foods, but he kept it around just in case Charlie ever visited. Much like he kept goldfish crackers, pudding cups, and a few other items. It was stupid, he knew, to keep them when Charlie wouldn’t be coming. Just like it was stupid to keep the second bedroom locked up, hiding the bedroom he’d set up for his son.

Just in case.

Because he was in the kitchen, he heard someone walk by the door to his apartment. And then he heard his neighbor open her door and speak to whoever walked by. Curious, he used the peephole and found Aileen and Mrs. Reynolds chatting like old friends by his neighbor’s open door. He stuffed the sandwich in his mouth to hold with his teeth and wrenched the door open.

“Hey,” he said to Aileen. She was still wearing the outfit he’d seen her at the practice field wearing. The ever-present canvas tote was slung across one shoulder, the strap cutting between her small breasts, making them more obvious. Her Converse, simple jeans, and a faded T-shirt with Motley Crue screen printed across the front made him smile a little. “You didn’t knock.”

“I was talking to Mrs. Reynolds,” she pointed out. “And she was telling me that you’re her favorite cookie eater.” Her grin was infectious, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Now tell me, Mrs. Reynolds, exactly what are his favorite cookies? Because if treats are the way to gain compliance, I’m going to be in a baking mood.”

His neighbor giggled like a schoolgirl. “He’s partial to my oatmeal raisin, actually. And you know, I gave him a large tub of those the other day, after he helped with my wobbly coffee table.”

“A wobbly coffee table, huh?” She leaned against Mrs. Reynolds’ doorjamb. “He fixed it all by himself?”

Killian felt the beginnings of a headache starting. “Freckles, weren’t you coming in?”

She shook her head. “I’m good here. Tell me more, Mrs. Reynolds.”

“Well,” his neighbor began, looking grateful for a captive audience. “It was right after I had him move my television set to the opposite wall. It’s so hard to see the screen these days, and the glare from my patio window was just awful.”

“Of course. Glare is terrible,” Aileen agreed.

“Freckles,” he warned.

She held up a finger without looking at him.

“And I said, ‘Killian, you’ve been such a help to me. You need some cookies to take home.’ He fought me on it.” Mrs. Reynolds leaned in, ready to impart a secret. “He’s got to watch his figure in season, you know.”

Aileen let out a small snort before she could get it together. “Oh, yes. His figure is very important.”

And that was all Killian could take. Leaving his door open, he stomped across the breezeway and wrapped a hand around Aileen’s upper arm. “Thanks for the cookies, Mrs. Reynolds. I’ll get you that tub back in a day or so.”

“No rush!” she called as Aileen and Killian walked across his doorway. “You two have fun now!”

“Bye!” Aileen waved, jerking her hand back just before Killian slammed the door shut. “I adore her.”

He did, too, normally. When she wasn’t imparting little tidbits of his life to reporters.

“And who knew you were so handy?” Aileen patted his chest, her hand lingering just a little so the gesture was more intimate than patronizing. “Maybe you should come over and fix my—”

“Everything?” he cut in. “I’ve seen that place.”

She shrugged, unbothered by the comment. “It’s cute that you help her out.”

“It’s no biggie.”

“Hmm.” She took a step away and surveyed the apartment’s common space. “Mind if I set up in the living room?”

“Set up what? Your cell phone?” He followed her into the living room, surprised when she reached into her tote and pulled out an extendable tripod. “Whoa. What else do you have in there?”

“Not much. A few snacks, a camera, the cure for world hunger . . .” She kept digging and pulled out a camera to use with the tripod. “Okay, just kidding. I don’t have any snacks.”

“World hunger must be heavy.”

“The cure for,” she corrected, letting the tote drop carelessly to the floor. Apparently, now that she had the tripod and camera out of it, nothing else was of significant value or care. “The light is best in here. I can change it up, but that would require dragging lamps around the apartment and that’s annoying. So is it okay?”