The Best Kind of Trouble. Lauren Dane

outside, but in here, it’s more casual. Lived in.” The kitchen windows let in a lot of light and gave a view of a backyard with a pretty garden and seating area.

      “Thank you.”

      He stepped closer and slid his arms around her. She melted against him, snuggling against his body. He kissed the top of her head, and she tipped back so he could get to that mouth.

      It had been a week since he’d seen her last. It was...odd; he had to admit to himself that she seemed just fine with her life and with his intermittent place in it.

      He kissed her long and slow, enjoying her taste.

      “Give me a tour?”

      “Sure. I don’t have a home theater, though. We only have two televisions, one in my room and one in Tuesday’s.”

      “Are you trying to get me in your bedroom?”

      She laughed. “I have to do laundry. I wasn’t lying. But there’s time after I get the first load started.”

      He swept her into another hug. “You know, you could just have more clothes, or do laundry more often. Are you a procrastinator?” He might have pegged the Natalie he knew before as a woman who waited until the last minute to do laundry, but this one? Not so much.

      “I have a presentation tomorrow afternoon that I just learned about today. I need to wash clothes for that. I have clean stuff, but this is important, so I need to look professional, and I have exactly one professional outfit for that sort of thing.”

      “Okay, so let’s get that in the wash. I was going to take you to Nora’s for dinner. How about I call in an order to go? I’ll go pick it up and maybe a bottle of wine, too?”

      “All right.”

      He followed her through the house and up a set of stairs. “This is my side of the upstairs. Tuesday has the other side. Her stairs are back in the kitchen, but there’s also a landing that connects both sides where we have a little reading loft.”

      The walls going up the stairs were full of photographs. He pointed. “This is Tuesday?”

      Natalie smiled. “Yes.” She paused with a smile. “This was us back in the day. She was the first person I met when I started school. Other than staff and stuff, I mean. I went to my dorm room and she was there already. I knew within an hour that she would always be important in my life. Funny how that works.”

      He understood it, though.

      “This is our group.” She indicated a series of photographs. “Delia, Zoe, Eric, Rosie, Jenny, me and Tuesday. We’re 1022 because that was our room number. We had a five-room suite thing. One shared main room and a bunch of bedrooms. Eric was honorary because he lived next door. He and Tuesday married a year after graduation.”

      “He’s the one who died?”

      “Yeah. He was all sporty, like Tuesday. They did all this crazy stuff, like every year they did a bicycle trip from Seattle to Portland. They kayaked and canoed. It started when he was tired a lot. But he was a busy dude, so for a while they just attributed it to his job. And then he got bruises that didn’t go away.”

      She swallowed hard, the emotion clear in her voice. He brushed his knuckles down her back, wanting it to be better.

      “Typical dude, he didn’t want to go to the doctor, but finally he was really bad off, so he went after Tuesday pestered him relentlessly about it. They learned a week later that he had cancer. He died three months after that. He was a great guy. He and Tuesday were right. You know what I mean? Anyway, that was four years ago.”

      “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine.”

      “It sucked. But we all go to the doctor now if we’re sick for longer than seems normal.” She moved again, and he followed.

      “The rest of your group, 1022 I mean, do they all live local?”

      “Delia is a documentary filmmaker. She lives in Portland. Zoe and Jenny are in Seattle. Zoe is a biologist. She’s a freak about cetaceans. Orcas mainly. Jenny’s a schoolteacher. Third grade. Rosie lives in Brooklyn. She finds locations for commercials and advertising shoots.”

      “Wow, you guys are all so interesting.”

      “We went to a liberal arts college with no letter grades in the middle of the forest. It’s our kooky wheelhouse.” She pushed open a set of doors leading to a rather large bedroom with a sitting room attached. “This is my room.”

      Not surprisingly, the entire room was neat and orderly. The only thing that showed any messiness at all was her bed.

      “I’d have pinned you for a make-your-bed girl.”

      “Why? I’m just going to get back into it, anyway.” She disappeared into a closet and came back out holding a bundle of clothes.

      “Can I look in your closet?”

      She took him in warily. “Why?”

      “I want to see if my suspicions are correct.”

      “I’m going to put my stuff in the wash. You have at it.” She waved in the direction of the closet and then left.

      He poked a head in and smiled. Ruthlessly organized, just as he’d figured. Her shoes were in neat boxes, her things hung according to type and color. He opened a drawer and hummed.

      “Someone likes sexy underwear.” He didn’t touch the rainbow of silky panties, which would have been sort of creepy. He’d need to propose removing them from her body with his teeth, instead.

      “So, are you stealing my shoes or my socks like a foot fetishist does?” She poked her head into the closet, and he jumped. “Wow, guilty people jump like that. Should I be scared? I have mace.”

      He snorted a laugh and then indicated the drawers set into the walls of the closet. “I’m far more interested in your panty collection.”

      “Lipstick, a pretty bra, some nice underwear, little things that can totally make a crappy day better.” She shrugged. “Just started the laundry. We could stay in instead of eating out. We could just order pizza. There’s soup, which I can do relatively well. And stuff for sandwiches. I’d say we had junk food but other than doughnuts, I’d be lying because Tuesday thinks apples are living wild. But I do have a stash of Hot Tamales in my dresser.”

      “I have plenty of junk food in my pantry. And a washer and dryer, too. I’m just saying.”

      “The clothes are already in the washer. Plus, in about five minutes, I’m going to be in yoga pants and a T-shirt.”

      He tossed himself on her bed after he toed out of his shoes. The scent of her skin rose from her sheets, and he didn’t stop himself from burying his face in her pillow to breathe her in.