Every Kiss(5)

But as soon as I open that door, my hopes of having a hot delivery guy are crushed, set on fire, and dunked in a drum of acid. He, on the other hand, obviously thinks he hit the jackpot. I would be perfectly fine going my entire life without a balding, overweight, sweaty, fifty-year-old man hitting on me. I mean, seriously. He’s old enough to be my dad.

Finally, though, after getting a glimpse of his armpit stains every time he wrestles another box into Shane’s car, I sign the ticket and happily send him on his way. I’m just going to pretend I don’t see his name and phone number at the bottom of the receipt.

“I think you just might have a shot with him,” a deep voice calls out from across the lot.

I turn to the guy approaching me. I must have an angel looking down on me that sent a peace offering after I had to deal with the guy from the liquor store. He’s so yum. “Yeah, uh, no.”

After locking Shane’s car, I go back inside, almost making it back into his room before the lock turns at the front door and it creaks open. “So are you Lucy or Ethel?” the hot guy from outside asks after pushing the door closed and slipping his keys into his pocket.

Just my luck. He’s one of the Neanderthals that live here. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I’m assuming you’re Makenna’s friend. I heard you were coming over here today. God knows every other woman on the planet would know better. So I was just curious . . . are you Lucy or Ethel? You know, from I Love Lucy. I think Makenna is more of an Ethel, but I don’t know you.”

Is this guy for real? Are these the kinds of pick-up lines he keeps in his arsenal? That’s depressing. “Uh, I’ve never thought about it. Mind telling me who you are first?”

He holds up his index finger at me while he fishes his ringing phone from his pocket, frowning at the name displayed on the screen. “Damn. I have to get back to work, so I guess I’ll catch Shane in a little while.” He backs away toward the door and winks at me. “Be thinking about your answer.” And he’s gone.

“Guys are loud, obnoxious, and weird,” I grumble to myself.

I’m thankful when Shane and Makenna return only a few minutes later, and I practically pounce on them when they walk through the door. “Never again. Ever.”

“Why? What happened?” Makenna drops a couple of shopping bags on the couch and folds her arms over her chest.

“First of all, the delivery guy? Gross. I still want to gag, and I’m not entirely convinced he’s not a pedophile. Second, one of your suitemates popped in for a second, and he was really weird. Totally hot, but weird.”

Shane laughs, scratching the sprinkling of stubble on his chin. “I don’t know about the ‘hot’ part, but as far as the weirdness goes, you just described every one of them.”

Thankfully, it doesn’t take us long to load everything into both cars and get on the road. After a cup of gas station sludge—uh, I mean, coffee—and an hour later, we finally pull into the paved circle drive of Shane’s parents’ house. It’s a newer Colonial style home with bold white columns stretched vertically across the façade, but it holds a certain quaint, familial charm to it, regardless of its massive size. The black shutters are a stark contrast to the white exterior, but it’s the well-groomed landscaping, oversized wreath on the front door, and cozy-looking rocking chairs on the front porch that give the home such an inviting appeal. “I think I was just transported into one of those home magazines. It’s so pretty.”

“Funny you should mention it,” Makenna chuckles. “His mom is an editor for Southern Home Style magazine. That’s actually why they aren’t home this week; she had a home decorating convention to go to in Nashville.”

“Well, I hope you never invite her to our dorm room. I’m sure the half-naked David Beckham poster on my wall is totally not in this season.”

Makenna snorts. “David Beckham is always in season.”

Our eyes meet, and we both nod in unspoken solidarity. We may disagree on a lot of things, but a hot guy isn’t one of them.

“You coming inside?”

My eyes dart over to Makenna, and I shoot her a wry smile. “If I must. But don’t forget our deal. It better be the best damn cookie dough you’ve ever made, too.”

“It’s about time you two got here.” Shane calls out as he bounds off the porch. “I was just about to call to check on you. I thought you were just stopping to fill up and get coffee.”

“Oh, we did.” I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder and bump the door closed with my hip. “But have you actually ever ridden with her? I swear my grandma could walk faster than she drives. It’s so freaking frustrating.”