HER FEET ACHED.
Her knees ached.
Her arms ached.
Okay, so there wasn’t a part of Alina’s body that didn’t ache. She’d worked a ten-hour shift. Ten hours of being on her feet, carrying heavy trays of food to table after table, was exhausting. She couldn’t wait to get back to her party planning. At least then she’d be seated.
After this very busy week, all she wanted to do on this Friday evening was kick off her rubber-soled shoes and climb in a bubble bath with a couple of candles and a captivating thriller. She wanted to get lost in the pages as the heroine outsmarted the killer.
But when she entered the foyer of her apartment building, she breathed in the most delightful aroma of... What was that? And where was it coming from?
She inhaled again. The scent of oregano and garlic called to her. Her stomach rumbled in response. She’d been too busy at work to stop and eat. But on the plus side, she’d received the biggest tip that night. And it was going straight toward her future rent/deposit.
Graham stepped into the hallway. Upon seeing her, his eyes widened. “You just saved me a trip.”
She approached him. “How did I do that?”
“I was headed to your apartment to leave a note on your door.”
“About what?”
“Dinner.” He went on to tell her that he had had dinner delivered from one of Manhattan’s poshest restaurants.
“Wow. I’ve heard how hard it is to get a table. No one ever said they have delivery service.”
“They don’t.”
“But you—”
“Know the owner.”
“Lucky you.”
Alina took a step back. “I’ll let you eat before it gets cold.”
“But I got enough to share. Unless you already ate?”
“There wasn’t time. We were too busy.”
“Well, come in.” He gestured her inside his apartment.
She didn’t know what she was expecting to find, but it was though the unit had had a complete makeover. In the past week, he’d certainly made himself at home. There was a new desk with two large computer monitors side by side and a black leather desk chair.
“I hope you don’t mind that I made a few changes.”
She shook her head, still taking in the changes. “Not at all.”
Against the other wall were a couple of comfy-looking chairs and a small fridge with a microwave atop it.
“This—” he gestured to the wall behind him “—is for anyone who wants some coffee or
doughnuts in the morning.”
“So you’re having an open-door policy, literally.”
“Something like that.”
She stared at the small table by the doorway with a new coffeemaker and a big white baker’s box with the Polka Dotted Bakery logo. There was only one doughnut left and a bunch of crumbs. Wow. He really had made himself at home. And it looked as though he was trying to win over the Stirling residents, one doughnut and coffee at a time.