Harlow’s face flushes, and she ducks her head. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize we’d gotten loud.”
“Yeah, well… alcohol can do that,” I grumble as I start to turn away.
“Wait,” she exclaims, reaching out and touching my forearm. “Please come in. At least meet everyone. You’re going to be neighbors for a long time, and it’s a great group. We all help each other out.”
“I could be back down in the minors next week,” I growl, and then immediately hate myself for admitting that insecurity.
Harlow snorts. “Please… you’re playing superbly. You and Gage Heyward are carrying the team right now. You’re going nowhere.”
My eyes flare with surprise that she’d be in tune with the Titans and our progress so far. It’s been barely a month since the plane went down. It’s been two weeks since our first practice.
We’ve played five games, winning only one, on the road yesterday in Houston. That was a good game, which made up for the ass-kicking we took in Phoenix the day before.
“Come on in,” Harlow urges me again, jolting me out of my thoughts. “Just stay for ten minutes. I’ll make introductions, then you can feign exhaustion and head out.”
I glance down the hall to my door and back. Cocking an eyebrow, I ask, “Is your dog going to attack me for entering his abode?”
Harlow grins and leans forward. “Here’s a tip. Bobby and Marcia brought meatballs tonight. Slip Odin one, and he’ll be your friend forever.”
I stare at her skeptically, thinking that could be good advice, or she might be willing to let me lose a hand in retaliation for storming her office that first day. Frankly, it could go either way.
Having spent so much time isolated from people the last few weeks and refusing to develop relationships while I was down in the minors, my comfort level will be stretched by accepting the invitation. I’m an introvert by nature, whereas Brooks was always the outgoing one.
I really don’t give a fuck about meeting my neighbors, and I don’t feel like tangling with that beast of a dog, but ultimately, I nod in acceptance.
The true reason I step over the threshold is because Harlow intrigues me. She’s the key to the mystery of my brother, and perhaps the mystery of my family’s dysfunction.
But if I’m honest, she’s also fucking gorgeous and sexy, and I’m attracted to her. Knowing she and my brother weren’t a thing means she’s not off-limits due to the bro code.
Not that I’m looking for a relationship. That’s totally not my jam. But a hot-neighbor fuck buddy isn’t a bad thing to strive for. If she’s interested, of course. I’ll have to judge that over time.
For now, I want to keep her close in case I decide I want to learn more about my brother.
“Hey, everyone,” Harlow announces to the group as we enter. “I want you all to meet our new neighbor, Stone Dumelin.”
I look around and note that her unit is the exact flipped layout of mine, but her décor is far more casually comfortable. Brooks’s house—rather, mine—looks like an art museum. Harlow’s looks like a mishmash of styles that range from quirky, a harlequin-checked moose head over the fireplace—to the downright weird, a painting going up the staircase of a dragon in a tutu doing a handstand on a gymnast’s balance beam.
Her furniture seems to have been chosen for comfort, with thick, deep cushions that look perfect for settling down to watch a movie. The floors are covered with lush rugs of varying colors and patterns, but they seem to complement each other.
“Hey, man,” someone says, and I blink to find a guy standing there with his hand held out. “I’m Bart, down in unit one. My wife, Shannon, is an emergency room doctor. She’s on duty tonight. You’ll have to meet her some other time.”
I shake Bart’s hand, manage a smile. They all come up to introduce themselves.
The blond who answered the door is Marcia of the famed meatballs that will apparently win Odin to my side. Marcia is a lawyer, like Harlow, and Bobby is a financial planner. They’re in unit three.
Lastly are Liz and Natalie Finder, a lesbian couple who are newest to the building before me, having moved in a few months ago. Liz is a pharmacist and pregnant with their first child through a sperm donor but using Natalie’s egg. Natalie is a headhunter specializing in global marketing, whatever the fuck that is, and I’ve learned more about them in a fifteen-second introduction than I knew about my brother in the last two years.
“What do you feel like?” Bart says, clapping me on the back. “We’ve got Smithwick’s or coffee with Irish cream liqueur. So essentially, beer or coffee. We’re not very multidimensional, but we’re keeping it holiday related.”
“Smithwick’s would be great,” I reply, and Bart heads off.
Harlow reappears, a small plate of meatballs in hand and Odin by her side. I swear he’s glaring at me, but in all honesty, it could be that he has two angled brown eyebrows against the black fur that make him look humanly expressive.
She hands me the plate, which I have no choice but to accept, and gives me very specific instructions. “Take a meatball and tell him to sit. Be very clear in your command while showing him the meatball.”
I do as she says, and to my relief, the dog’s ass hits the floor as his eyes lock on the treat pinched between my thumb and forefinger.
“Now, lower the meatball,” Harlow says, her tone like a warning. “And say the word gentle as you offer it.”
My head snaps her way. “What happens if he doesn’t heed the word gentle?”
“You might lose a finger,” she quips, eyes sparkling with amusement. Which means she’s joking.
I think.
I wait for the real answer and finally, Harlow rolls her eyes. “He’s got a very gentle mouth, but he’s really not allowed people food, so he could get a little excited. I’m making this exception to help you bridge the divide with him. You might get a little slobber on you, by the way.”
Our eyes stay locked for a moment, and I know that this could be a pivotal point where I decide to trust her.
Looking back to Odin, I say in the softest—perhaps a bit pleading—tone I can muster, “Gentle.”
Odin licks his chops—for my hand, for the meatball, who knows—but I go for it and hand him the food.
Surprisingly, not a single tooth grazes my skin as he daintily nips the meatball from my grasp and swallows it whole.
Odin stands, takes a step closer, and sits again without me having to ask. His eyes are pinned on the plate, his meaning clear. Feed me the rest, or I’ll kill you.
I hand him the remaining two meatballs with the request for him to be gentle, and he takes each one without injuring me.
I had thought that might make us friends, and I even consider petting his head, but once he sees the plate is empty, he pads away as if he has no further use for me. I watch as he goes to Liz, sitting on the couch. Odin steps right up onto the cushion next to her and lays his big body down with his head resting on her lap. She strokes him without missing a beat of her conversation with Marcia and Natalie.
Bart returns with my beer as well as a fresh mug of coffee for Harlow. “Just the way you like it,” he says as she takes it from him.