Truly (New York 1)

Or so Allie told her. Allie was usually the one who did the diving.

“I’m sure my shirts will fit,” he said. “Not so sure about the jeans. We’re not far off on height, but …”

Aaaand there was the water, the smack of impact as harsh as she’d feared.

We’re not far off on height, because you’re a giantess, but your hips are broad as a barn, and there’s no hope on earth of your squeezing into these jeans.

She wasn’t cut out for the deep end.

“What about sweats?” she asked. “Or track pants, something like that?”

“Sure. Just a sec.”

He left her with his clothes, and she lifted his jeans to check: 32W, 34L. Straight up and down. Cuffed, they might have fit her in sixth grade, before she hit her second growth spurt. The one that had left stretch marks.

She folded them again as he came down the hall with a pair of dark green track pants. The stripes up the side were gold. Packers pants.

“They match your jersey,” he said.

She imagined herself walking around with him in Packers pants, a green jersey, and green slippers with bows. “I need to buy some clothes.”

“I know,” he said. “I figured shopping is probably first on the agenda.”

“You shop?”

“I wait nearby with a cup of coffee and my book.”

That made her smile, a little bit. “You can find out if they ever manage to bury the dead lady while I locate pants that fit.”

Ben smiled back, that elusive grin that made him look younger, a little silly, and far too appealing. “It’s a deal. But first, get warm, and I’ll feed you.”

“You already fed me soup.”

“I have to make the coffee, drink the coffee, and change my clothes. Plus, you’re a chick, so you’ll take forever. I bet it’ll be ninety minutes before we hit the pavement. By then, I’ll be ready to eat again.”

“I’ll have you know I’m very fast at getting ready. It only took me a few minutes this morning.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have any of your woman crap this morning. I was about to ask if you want to run down to the drugstore before you shower to buy some stuff. You know, soap, toothpaste.”

“Is there one nearby?”

“Yeah, there’s a Duane Reade down the block if you hang a left at the front door.”

May hopped off the stool. “I’m on it.” She held out her hand. “Can I borrow your key?”

“Sure.” He picked his key ring off the counter and handed it to her, separating the apartment key from the rest. “It’s this one.” He retrieved his wallet and pulled two twenties from it. “Take this, too. No arguments.”

She frowned at the cash but accepted it. “I’ll pay you back.”

“I know you will.”

“And I bet I’ll be showered, dressed, and ready to go before you’ve got that pot clean, changed your clothes, and had your coffee.”

“You have to have some coffee, too.”

“Sure, sure. You can set it on the bathroom sink while I shower.”

A quick flash of something in his eyes, and that smile flirting with the corner of his mouth again. “Deal.”