Running Into Love (Fluke My Life)(5)

By: Aurora Rose Reynolds


Looking at Muffin, I pray she takes me up on my next offer so I can get out of here. “Do you want to go for a walk?” Barking excitedly, she jumps off the couch and leaves through the crack in the door. “Finally,” I mumble, then turn to face Levi again. “Thanks for being so cool about this.”

“No problem.” He smiles gently, and my stomach flutters again.

“It was nice meeting you.”

“See you around, Fawn,” he rumbles, making my girlie bits sit up and take notice.

“See you around, neighbor.” I give him a dorky salute, then head across the hall to my apartment, grabbing a hoodie from the coat closet and Muffin’s leash. Leading her down the two flights of stairs, I smile when Levi greets us with a smirk from the bottom landing.

“Are you sure you’re not following me?” he questions as we descend the last three steps.

“Positive.” I roll my eyes, before remembering my manners. “Thank you.” I smile as he opens the door, letting us exit before him. I guess chivalry isn’t totally dead—yet.

Looking both ways, I try to figure out where he’s going to go so Muffin and I can head in the opposite direction. “Which way are you going?” I ask, giving up trying to figure out his path. There are two subway stations close to our building, and depending on what precinct he’s working at, he could take either train.

“This way.” He nods to the right.

“Bummer, we’re going the other way.” I tilt my head to the left, then smile. “Be safe at work.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, like he finds something entertaining, and he rubs Muffin’s head briefly before meeting my eyes again. “See you girls around.”

“See ya around.” I wave as I drag Muffin down the sidewalk away from him. Halfway down the block, I can’t help myself, and I look over my shoulder, then bite the inside of my cheek to keep my emotions in check when I see that he’s still standing where I left him. Crossing his arms over his wide chest, he lifts his chin ever so slightly and his eyes bore into mine.

Pulling my gaze from him I whisper, “I’m in so much trouble,” earning an unsolicited bark from Muffin.





Chapter 2

TOTALLY READ THAT WRONG

FAWN

“I think we should get dressed up for Halloween and go out tonight. We never go out on Halloween anymore,” my sister Mackenzie complains as she flops down onto the couch next to Muffin, who then takes an opportunity to lick her face.

“We went out last year,” my little sister, Libby, mumbles while frowning at her cell phone.

“Yeah, we went to one of your stupid snooty clubs. The whole night was a complete bore,” Mac says, glaring at Libby, who lowers her phone to glare right back.

If I didn’t know for a fact that we were sisters, I would think we were switched at birth because we are all so different. Mackenzie, better known as Mac, is the oldest and a complete tomboy. Okay, a tomboy who looks like a model when she dresses up. Mac has long, natural red hair and big green eyes, just like our dad. Our baby sister, Libby, is the beauty queen of the three of us, with dark-brown hair that ends at the middle of her back and crystal-blue eyes—she looks just like our mom’s high school prom picture. Then there’s me, the classic middle child and the nerd, with untamable curly blonde hair and odd blue eyes that look more like river gray than Libby’s ocean blue. Our parents still question where I got the blonde hair, and there’s a running joke that my features match the postman’s, which would be funny if it wasn’t true.

“I wanted to order Chinese, watch Hocus Pocus, and hand out candy,” I say, knowing neither of them will likely listen to me or what I want to do, even though they both chose to come to my house for the night. Where my sisters love to go out, I enjoy hanging at home. I would much rather spend an evening in my pajamas than get dressed up to go anywhere.

“You always want to stay in,” Libby mutters, gaining a nod of agreement from Mac.

“There is nothing wrong with staying home,” I grumble under my breath, defending myself.

“No, there is nothing wrong with staying home . . . occasionally . . . but you would never leave the house if you didn’t have to,” Libby says, tossing her phone onto the coffee table, then looking me over and barely concealing her obvious disappointment in the fact I’m not like her and could really care less about my appearance. Those crystal blues travel from my hair—tied up in a ponytail—to a tee stating I went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to my ripped jeans that I’ve had forever before resting on the grubby red Toms that I refuse to part with. “When was the last time you went on a date?”

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