The simple plan we made at the end of lunch today was that I’d check out of the Fairview after I finished for the day at the arena and come straight here. Sophie said she would make dinner, and I didn’t argue. I’ve tasted her cooking, and I’m looking forward to whatever we’re having.
Plans aren’t always so simple, though.
I didn’t realize how late we’d be working, finalizing the remainder of this week’s practice schedule, as well as planning various line combos we could test to get the best possible players together who would complement one another’s skills.
I called Sophie at five p.m. to let her know I didn’t know when I’d be leaving. She told me not to worry, that my food would reheat.
At eight p.m., I called and told her there was still no end in sight. I didn’t want her to have to wait up for me, because she’d have to let me in the house. It’s not like she had an extra key on her today when we decided to become roommates. I told her to go to bed and I’d stay at the Fairview again tonight, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted no matter what time I made it to her house, she’d be awake.
The gallant man inside me wanted to insist I stay at the hotel so as not to impose, but the part of me that had a fabulous time with her at lunch today wanted to see her again, even if it did disturb her evening. That man has a selfish streak, apparently, as I willingly let her talk me into coming to her place whenever I finished work, no matter the hour.
It’s almost eleven now, and I feel guilty about showing up so late.
The rolling garage door opens, the interior light revealing Sophie standing there looking relieved to see me outside the car. I smile before ducking back inside and slowly pulling the car in beside hers.
As I switch off the ignition, I study her in the illumination of the headlights, and I like what I see. She looks both adorable and curiously sexy in a pair of baggy flannel pajamas in a black-and-red block print and black boots with faux fur trim that come no higher than midcalf. She’s not wearing a coat, hat, or gloves, and her arms are crossed, shoulders hunched in an “I’m freezing my ass off” stance.
Exiting my car, I give her a rebuking look from head to toe. “Are you crazy coming out here without a coat? It’s twenty-seven degrees.”
Sophie smirks, throwing her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the house. “It’s a thirty-foot walk.”
“People have caught pneumonia in less,” I chastise as I move toward her, removing my wool coat. It’s not appropriate for extended periods out in this weather, but absolutely sufficient to get me from car to arena and back again.
She makes a sound in her throat and holds out her hands to stop me, but I ignore her and drape my coat over her shoulders. “Don’t argue,” I warn in a low voice.
Sophie scoffs and mutters, “Bossy.”
“Let me get my luggage.” I move around the car and pop the trunk, gathering the one large suitcase and duffel bag I brought with me from Arizona. After leaving the arena, I ran over and grabbed my stuff, leaving a hefty tip for the maid service before checking out.
Once I have my bags in hand, Sophie slaps her palm against a button on the wall and the garage door lowers. I follow her through a regular swing door and into the backyard, startled by how pretty it is despite the browned grass of winter.
At the bottom of the porch step is a stone patio with a nice set of outdoor furniture—a couch, table, and two chairs—with several pots that I imagine hold plants and flowers in the warmer months. The base of her house is uplit behind the barren bushes. The lights provide not only safety but a pleasing ambient glow. A fountain sits off to the side and strung along the entire length of her fence are lights with Edison bulbs.
The minute she steps one foot into the yard, floodlights on the back of the garage flash on, and the entire yard is lit up. We walk toward the house and midway there, motion sensors catch us, triggering floodlights atop the house.
It’s overkill to someone like me, but to someone like Sophie, it’s probably not enough.
As we move up the porch steps, I apologize again for being late.
“No worries,” she assures me with a quick look over her shoulder. “You don’t have to be here at a certain time, and you should come and go as you please. I have a spare key for you so you can sneak in at whatever time you need. And I’ll give you the alarm code.”