When Alec Met Evie (Appies, #6)

by Jenny Proctor

“Thanks for feeding me. And for everything today, really. Unloading the pod. Giving us a place to stay. All of it.” “It’s no problem,” he says in between bites. “I’ve got plenty of space.” “Yeah, why do you have all this space? This house is huge.” “It was more about the neighborhood and less about the house,” Alec says. “I like the security. And it’s quiet. Mostly families. My last place was in a busier part of town, people always coming and going, and my neighbor was always having crazy parties.” He pauses and offers me a sheepish grin. “I sound really old, don’t I?” “So old,” I repeat, but then I smile. “I get it, though.” I slide off the barstool and carry my plate to the sink. “So talk to me about your knee.” He frowns. “Why would I want to talk about my knee?” “Because I saw you limping when we came inside. Are you injured? Please tell me you didn’t hurt yourself today.” “I didn’t hurt it today,” he says, and I can tell he’s telling the truth. “So it’s a hockey injury?” He breathes out a sigh. “You’re asking a lot of questions.” “Oh come on.” I return to the stool beside him. “You said I was like a sister, so talk to me like one.” He lifts an eyebrow at this, but then he finally shifts on his stool and turns to fully face me. “It’s an old hockey injury,” he says. “Do you remember when I had surgery on my ACL during my senior year at Cornell?” “Oh, that’s right! You didn’t play in any games until after Christmas.” “Exactly. Then I blew it out again my first year with ...