Page 1 of Key Of Dreams
Prologue
Canned Tuna and Crackers
Bull
We all take turns picking up groceries for Gertie and dropping them by as an excuse to check in on her. The guys have made her our honorary grandma. She’s a tell-it-like-it-is, ballbuster kind of grandma, and that’s what I like best about her.
Gertie socked it to me from the get-go. She read into my soul that first night we met. She totally hit the target when she talked about my past and the broken pieces I left behind before meeting Falcon and the others.
Since then, I’ve visited her regularly, and she’s never brought up my past again, yet she always knows when I’m not quite myself. By the time we’re done talking, I always feel better. Gertie seems to bring out the best in all of us, even Falcon, who is one cool customer.
I grab the bags out of the back of the truck and head for the elevator. Even before the elevator doors open, I hear a frustrated voice, and when they open completely, Gertie’s neighbor is yanking at her door and jiggling her key in the lock.
“No. No. No,” she grunts, then slams her hand against her door. “Not today. Please, not today,” she mutters, and rattles the door once again. All I see is her sandy-blonde hair tossing around her shoulders, hiding her face, but I don’t need to see her face to know she’s beautiful. Her voice is soft and whispery, even when angry.
I shouldn’t be smiling like this at her dilemma, but she’s so freaking adorable, I can’t help myself. As I move past the pretty blonde, she pulls on the knob once more, losing her balance and falling backward and into me. I drop the bags in order to catch her, but we both land on the hallway floor with the bags broken open and the contents spread across the floor.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry.” She whips her head around to look at me. Fuck me, I’m wrecked. She looks like a dainty porcelain doll, with her big wide blue eyes, apple cheeks, and perfect bow lips. She scrambles to get up and lands right back on her ass. I want to laugh, but she’s close to tears, and the last thing I want to see is her releasing the waterworks.
I move the stuff around her out of the way and say, “Coast is clear, babe. You go first.” With our luck, both of us getting to our feet at the same time might knock our heads together and she’d get a concussion. She rises to her feet and begins gathering the cans that have rolled away.
She turns to me and says, “My door is stuck. The superintendent isn’t around. I swear I’m not normally this clumsy.” Then she bites her lower lip and confesses, “That’s not true. I’m very klutzy. I trip over my own feet all the time, but I am very sorry.”
This woman has me grinning from ear to ear. I don’t remember the last time I’ve done that. There she is, holding cans of tuna, a box of crackers, and whatever else she has stuffed in her arms, and all I want to do is push her up against the wall and kiss her.
Gertie’s door opens, and she comes to stand in the doorway. She takes in the scene and grins like the Cheshire cat.
“Well, looky here, Bull, I have a pretty new neighbor,” Gertie says.
“I can’t get into my apartment. I’m sorry for the noise,” the woman says, still clutching the groceries to her chest.
“What’s your name, lovie?” Gertie asks.
“Maya. Maya Randell.”
“Well, sweet Maya. We can’t leave you stranded out here. Come on in, and my friend Bull here will get that door open,” Gertie gives me a wink, “Won’t you, sweetie? We always help a damsel in distress. He takes good care of me,” she finishes, turning back to Maya.
“I don’t want to impose.”
“Ridiculous,” Gertie responds. ”You can help me put those groceries away while Bull does his thing.”
Maya walks tentatively toward Gertie, glancing back at me over her shoulder, then disappears into Gertie’s apartment.
I gather the groceries from the ground and take them into Gertie’s apartment, where Gertie and Maya separate what belongs to whom. Gertie keeps a small tool kit in her closet that I grab as I go back to see if I can get Maya’s door open.
It only takes a few minutes, but I manage to get her door open. The key is warped, and she’s going to keep having the same problem until she has a new one made. I take it upon myself to head down to the hardware store a block away to get it done. Not twenty minutes later, I’m back at Gertie’s and Maya is pouring her tea. The two women are chatting like they’ve been friends for years.
“Yo, I’m back,” I announce. I walk over to where the two are sitting on a small sofa and hold out my closed hand. Maya looks at it and slowly holds out her own, palm upward. I set the key in her hand. I swear I feel a surge of electricity run through me, and I’m not the only one who feels it. Maya’s eyes grow wide as she stares at me. “Had to have a new key made. The one you had was bent.”
It takes her a second to find her voice. “Th-thank you. How—how much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You went to so much trouble. Please let me?—”
“Consider it a moving-in gift,” I reply before she can finish her sentence.
She gives me a small smile and thanks me again. She turns back to Gertie. “I should go put away my own groceries. Thanks for taking pity on me,” she says.
