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It was a day full of errands—delivering cakes and cupcakes from her bakery, running to get groceries for home, going out to pay some bills, all amongst many other things that had run her ragged. Now, finally back at home, she had to lug in all her groceries, unpack them, and then get started on her laundry.
It wasn’t even twelve yet and she was already tired of the day, bemoaning the next chore that would chip away at her already waning sanity. Dylan grumbled the entire way to her laundry room, the mumbled complaints not stopping even as she put her damned clothes to wash and made her way back to the kitchen.
She stood, hands to her hips as she stared at the counter still littered with her reusable tote bags, sighing as she thought it would be an issue best left for later. Besides, she hadn’t gotten her mail from the mailbox in a few days and that was much more pressing of a concern. There had to be some bills in the thing that needed her attention, maybe even some mail her friend’s daughter had made for her. Last time had been a crudely drawn picture of the three of them that still hung on her refrigerator. It was high time she visited the two, knowing the little munchkin was bound to ask when her Auntie Dylan would visit them again.
She snickered at the thought before grabbing her keys from the table and heading to the front door. The street’s shared mailbox was just across the street from her house against a brick wall, so it wasn’t a hassle at all to get it and bring it back in. The air was cool and fresh, a nice change from the blistering heat that had her sweating through her shirt the week prior when weeding her plants. At least now, with her mail in hand, she could stand under the sun by the mailbox and not suffer as she thumbed through the envelopes and magazines that had filled her box.
It was all normal—mail from the stores she frequented, a few bills, a bank statement or two, some junk mail. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least until she got to the last one. A piece of mail that didn’t have her name on it.
Alex Keller.
And oh, how it drove her mad seeing her address on the envelope instead of his.
This wasn’t even the first time this had happened, which was why she was bounded up the steps of his porch, knuckles rapping at the wood of his door with intense purpose. She was stood there for no more than thirty seconds, arms crossed over her chest with her mail tucked under one of the arms and Alex’s envelope in between the fingers of the other.
What she hadn’t expected was for the man to open the door shirtless, a pair of lounging pants hanging low on his hips. Her anger crumbled for a moment, making way for a stunned glint in her eyes for just a second at how attractive the man looked. Yes, she had thought so upon their first meeting, but that hadn’t been a shirtless one! She blinked, pushing away the desire to ogle the man just a bit longer before he could notice to pull back the anger she felt from before.
“This is what—the seventh time this month your mail ends up in mine, Keller?” she seethed, pushing the envelope into his chest and hoping he couldn’t see just how much it affected her when her fingers touched the bare skin of his chest. “You’ve got to be doing this on purpose at this point.” Her brows were knit together in that same expression he always found cute, though he would never admit it to her. Saying that might give way to her actually throwing a punch at him.
He shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, leaning up against his doorframe as he took the mail from her fingers before she could drop it, turning the paper over in his hands as if he were actually interested in where it came from. No, his interest was in the woman before him, still glowering at him.
“Not on purpose, no,” he responded, lying right through his teeth as he gave her a playful smile. “When I write, sometimes my sixes look like fives, so it’s an honest mistake.”
Dylan narrowed her eyes at him, huffing an unamused breath. Well, that could be reasonable, given that her house number was 1453 and his 1463, but even then, for it to happen so often without change was still grinding at her gears.
“Leave it to a man to have shitty handwriting,” she grumbled under her breath, eyes rolling at his explanation. She stood there a bit longer, arms once again crossed against her chest as she leaned her weight on one foot with the opposing hip popped out.
“Anything else, Dylan?” Alex then asked, noticing she seemed to still not have plans on leaving back to her own home. He watched on, amused at the turn of events. There was no way he would admit it to her, given the short fuse she seemed to have when it came to him, but he had noticed how her eyes had strayed to his chest and arms. Definitely an ego-booster.
“I hope you know I’m expecting you to fix this, Alex. Call these places and give them the right address,” she retorted. “I’m not looking forward to the day I get a playboy bunny magazine in my mailbox and get a face full of boobs.” Yes, she was aware that what she spoke was probably an exaggeration, and she hoped he wasn’t dumb enough to get things like that mailed to him, but even then, the idea was a funny one. Even he seemed like he could admit it was comedic, the corners of his lips tilting upwards and curling that silly mustache with them.
“I promise you’ll get no such things from me, sweetheart,” he went along with her joking words, taking note of the way her eyes immediately averted at the pet name.
“Well that’s a relief, at least,” she breathed out, trying her hardest to ignore the warmth of her ears as she turned back to him. “Still, if I have to keep bringing you your mail, I’m going to start burning it.”
“That’s illeg-“ he began, promptly cut off by Dylan’s exasperated voice.
“I know it’s illegal, you ass,” she interrupted. “I’d just rather not have to walk the extra steps it takes to get to your house when I’m already swamped in my own shit I’ve got to do.”
He held the same grin as before. “Consider it me adding some variety to your days, neighbor,” he teased, to which Dylan only glared at him. He was unbothered by the gaze, instead taking in the freckles that dotted her face. It was only in the silence between the two as she glared and he stared back that he remembered something.
He leaned over, swapping the envelop in his hand for another that sat on the table by the door, holding it out for Dylan who now sported a bit of a confused look.
“Seems I’m not the only one who gets their sixes and fives messed up,” he responded to her look, watching her fingers as they took the envelop, studying it just as he had studied the one she gave him not too long before. “Got it earlier when the mailman passed by and was going to drop it off, but your car wasn’t in the driveway and I didn’t want to chance it being lost or stolen.”
The woman definitely recognized the handwriting, having thought of the little munchkin right before going for her mail. There was a soft smile on her features now as she looked at the envelope, one that Alex took great care in committing to memory, before she pushed the smile down to glare back up at him.
“This changes nothing, Keller. I still expect you to fix your mailing address on things,” she then spoke up.
His lips still held a carefree smile, his chuckles crinkling the edges of his eyes in a way that captivated the woman. “I’ll see what I can do about it, ma’am,” was his simple reply, waiting until she had turned on her heel to leave (mostly because she was now curious to what her friend’s daughter had decided to send this time, but also because now she would have to convince her friend to give said kid lessons on how to write numbers well) before closing the door.
He was absolutely not going to do a thing about it, not if she came marching up to his doorstep every time with that same look on her face. It wasn’t his fault she was the prettiest woman he’d seen. What was his fault, however, was not knowing how to ask her out on a proper date.