style="font-size:15px;"> A delivery man approached. “You Alan Francisco?” he asked, not waiting for a reply before he held out his clipboard. “Sign at the X.”
Frisco signed. “It’s going up to Unit 2C. It’s right at the top of the stairs—”
“Sorry, pal, this is as far as I go.” The man didn’t sound even remotely apologetic. “My instructions are to get it off the truck. You’ve got to take it from here.”
“You’re kidding.” Frisco’s voice was flat, unbelieving. The furniture was standing there on the asphalt, next to the delivery vehicle.
The man closed the sliding back door of his truck with a crash. “Read the small print on your receipt. It’s free delivery—and you got exactly what you paid for.”
How was Frisco supposed to get all this up a flight of stairs? Mia saw the frustration and anger in his eyes and in the tight set of his mouth.
The man climbed into the cab and closed the door behind him.
“I bought this stuff from your store because you advertise a free delivery,” Frisco said roughly. “If you’re not going to deliver it, you can damn well load it up and take it back.”
“First of all, it’s not my store,” the man told him, starting the engine with a roar and grinding the gears as he put it into first, “and secondly, you already signed for it.”
It was all Frisco could do to keep himself from pulling himself up on the running board and slamming his fist into the man’s surly face. But Tash and Mia were watching him. So he did nothing. He stood there like a damned idiot as the truck pulled away.
He stared after it, feeling helpless and impotent and frustrated beyond belief.
And then Mia touched his arm. Her fingers felt cool against his hot skin. Her touch was hesitant and light, but she didn’t pull away even when he turned to glare down at her.
“I sent Tasha to see if Thomas is home,” she said quietly. “We’ll get this upstairs.”
“I hate this,” he said. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. They were dripping with despair and shame. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, to reveal so much of himself to her. It wasn’t a complaint, or even self-pity. It was a fact. He hated his limitations.
Her brown-green eyes grew warmer, more liquid. She slid her hand all the way down to his, and intertwined their fingers. “I know,” she said huskily. “I’m so sorry.”
He turned to look at her then, to really look at her. “You don’t even like me,” he said. “How can you stand to be so nice?”
“I do like you,” she said, trying to step back, away from the intensity of his gaze. But he wouldn’t let go of her hand. “I want to be your friend.”
Friend. She tugged again, and this time he released her. She wanted to be his friend. He wanted so much more….
“Yo, Frisco!”
Frisco turned. The voice was as familiar to him as breathing. It was Lucky O’Donlon. He’d parked his motorcycle in one of the visitor’s spaces, and now sauntered toward them. He was wearing his blue dress uniform and looked to be one hundred percent spit and polish. Frisco knew better.
“Hey, guy, having a tag sale or something?” Lucky’s wide smile and warm blue eyes traveled lazily over the furniture, Frisco’s damned cane, and Mia. He took an especially long time taking in Mia. “You gonna introduce me to your friend?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Lucky held out his hand to Mia. “I’m Lt. Luke O’Donlon, U.S. Navy SEALs. And you are…?”
Mia smiled. Of course she would smile. No one could resist Lucky. “Mia Summerton. I’m Frisco’s neighbor.”
“I’m his swim buddy.”
“Former swim buddy.”
Lucky shook his head. “No such thing.” He looped his arm around Frisco’s neck and smiled at Mia. “We went through BUD/S together. That makes you swim buddies for life.”
“BUD/S is basic training for SEALs,” Frisco translated for her, pushing Lucky away from him. “Where are you going, dressed like that?”
“Some kind of semiformal affair at the OC. A shindig for some top brass pencil pusher who’s being promoted.” He grinned at Frisco, but his gaze kept returning to Mia. “I thought maybe you’d want to come along.”
Frisco snorted. “Dream on, man. I hated those parties when I was required to go.”
“Please?” Lucky begged. “I need someone to keep me company or I’ll spend all night dancing with the admiral’s wife, trying to keep her from grabbing my butt.” He smiled at Mia and winked.
“Even if I wanted to,” Frisco told him, “which I don’t, I couldn’t. I’m taking care of my sister’s kid for the next six weeks.” He gestured to the furniture. “This is supposed to be for her bedroom.”
“The kid’s either fond of the outdoors, or you got yourself some kind of snafu here.”
“Number two,” Frisco said.
“Yo, neighbor babe,” Lucky said, picking up one end of the mattress. “You look healthy. Grab the other end.”
“Her name is Mia,” Frisco said.
“Excuse me,” Lucky said. “Mia babe, grab the other end.”
Mia was laughing, thank God. As Frisco watched, she and Lucky carried the mattress into the courtyard. He could hear Mia’s laughter long after they moved out of sight.
As Frisco picked up the lightweight bookcase and carried it slowly toward the courtyard, he could also hear Tasha’s excited chirping, and Thomas King’s rich voice coming toward him.
“Hey, Navy.” Thomas nodded a greeting as he passed. He knew better than to offer to take the bookcase from Frisco on his way out to the parking lot.
“Thanks for helping out, man,” Frisco said to him.
“No problem,” the teenager replied.
No problem. It was possible that this whole deal wasn’t a problem for anybody—except Frisco.
He set the bookcase down at the bottom of the stairs, and looked up to see Lucky come out of his condo, with Tasha in his arms. He was tickling the little girl, and she was giggling. Mia was right behind them, and she was laughing, too.
He’d never seen Mia look so beautiful or relaxed. Lucky leaned toward her and said something into her ear, and she laughed again. She started down the stairs, and Lucky watched her go, his eyes following the movement of her hips.
Frisco had to look away. He couldn’t blame Lucky. At one time, the two of them had been so much alike. They still were alike in so many ways. It didn’t surprise him that his best friend would be attracted to Mia, too.
It
