Absolutely Not in Love (Sweater Weather, #7; Appies, #2)

by Jenny Proctor

Gracie’s Honda is already parked in her spot when I pull in my Audi beside it. It’s ridiculous how happy this makes me. I was fine before last weekend. But now that I’ve admitted the possibility of actually liking her, it’s like my brain kicked into fifth gear and turned me into a sweating, nervous middle-schooler. What do I even plan to do? Knock on her door just to say hi? Unless she happens to be coming out when I’m going in, I probably won’t even see her. I consider my options as I lock my car and head toward the warehouse door, stopping on the sidewalk outside to check my mail. I could…make dinner and knock on her door, offering her the extra. Or I could ask to borrow an egg or a cup of milk or something. Maybe I could play my music too loud, hoping she’ll come over to ask me to turn it down? I open my mailbox and pull out several days’ worth of mail. Since there are only two of us who live here, we use traditional black mailboxes, lined up side by side just to the right of the heavy warehouse door. I riffle through the stack of letters, and—yes. Our mailman is my new favorite person. I’ve got two pieces of Gracie’s mail. It would only be neighborly to return them to her in person. I take the stairs two at a time, my heart already pounding.