So I ring again. And again. And again.
Finally, the door flies open, and I barely have a moment to register Carter Sheppard, towering over me in a tight-fitting red sweater, his dark brown hair closely cropped on the sides but wild and curly on the top. I spy white AirPods peeking out of his ears as he glances over me and then Rudy, but that’s all I see before he whirls around.
“Yeah, the girl’s here to drop off the dog,” he says, clearly talking to someone who isn’t me. “No, it’s not important. Keep talking.”
He looks over his shoulder and gestures for me and Rudy to take a seat.
It’s so rude, so extremely not something that Joe would’ve approved of, that I nearly turn around and head back home. Not important? Dog ownership is one of the most important responsibilities a person will ever have. And the fact that Carter treats it so cavalierly should disqualify him from ever owning a dog.
But then Carter turns back and that gives me hope. I even think that he’s about to apologize. He moves purposefully toward me, one giant man-step at a time. Walking closer and closer with no sign of turning back.
Is he… is he going in for a hug?
It doesn’t make sense, but then he’s reaching out. And look, I know, as a librarian, that some people might say that I’m more than a little nerdy. Maybe even a tiny bit socially awkward. But even for me, it would be impossible to mistake this for anything except a hug.
So I start to open my arms too.
Except as soon as I do, it becomes crystal clear that he was not actually going for a hug. He was reaching to grab the bag of dog food from me.
Sutton would probably tell me I have bad energy and need a crystal necklace or something, but I know what this really is. This is the universe conspiring against me, because he can obviously tell that I misread him. That I was going in for a hug. His eyebrow rises ever so slightly, even as he continues his phone conversation.
“Reviewing the situation? But I thought this was a done deal,” Carter demands of the person on the other end as he snatches the bag of dog food, heaving it easily over his muscular shoulder.
Is this man even going to acknowledge me? I wonder. I mean, look, we weren’t besties or anything in high school. But you would think he would at least have a vague memory of me, and that vague memory would register somewhere in the brain he uses to determine if he’s going to slide into first or run past it. But instead, Carter Sheppard refers to me as “the girl” and looks at me like I’m the UPS driver dropping off a package.
“They can’t seriously hold that against me,” he’s saying into the phone. “It happens to everyone, and she wasn’t even naked.”
Why am I not remotely surprised by his casual mention of some random woman’s nudity? Maybe because Carter Sheppard is known for his “Shepphoe” groupies. And that nickname? The groupies gave it to themselves.
If only they could see how their “king” refers to them so off-handedly.
“Excuse me,” I pipe up, exchanging an annoyed glance with Rudy. “I have places to be, you know.”
Carter doesn’t hear me, or if he does, he straight-up ignores me. “Look, they wanted the bad-boy image, didn’t they? And they got it. So don’t tell me—”
He sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair before turning to glance at me again.
“Fine, we’ll discuss it later,” he says, those deep green eyes running over me, up and down from my loafers to my knit sweater. I suddenly wish I hadn’t dressed so… well, so much like a librarian. But what can I say? Plaid skirts, knit sweaters, and loafers kind of come with the territory.
“Yeah,” Carter says, eyes still on me. “I’ve got some ideas. Call me tomorrow.”
And then, finally, he ends the call. I straighten and cross my arms over my chest as he just… stares at me.
“So,” he says finally. “You’re the girl with the dog, huh?”
Oh, this asshole. As if he doesn’t even know my name.
Which, okay, maybe he really doesn’t remember my name. But someone definitely told him that Lexi Foster would be dropping Rudy off. After she took care of Rudy for months. And fell in love with him. Still, if he’s going to act too cool for school, then I’m not going to give him an ounce more attention than he deserves.
“Sure am,” I say. “I’m your neighbor, Lexi.”
“Ryan’s neighbor,” Carter corrects, not offering his own name because he’s conceited enough to think I know it. Which I do. But that’s not the point. He adds, “I don’t live here.”
Pedantic ass. “I know that. I just meant that, you know…”