She was so dreamy that she didn’t notice someone sitting in the sedan parked across the street from her house. Didn’t even notice the car there.
She put the coffee on as soon as she walked in. Changed into her sweats, then woke up Bella, who was snoring away in her room like a lumberjack. They were planning to check out that Dumpster behind the Rustic Inn this morning.
“We’re on dawn patrol, girl,” she sang out. “Ready for your coffee?”
Bella groaned, blinking at her.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Des headed toward the kitchen to get it. That was when her doorbell rang.
It was so early in the morning that she couldn’t imagine who it could be. Which was pretty amazing, considering how big a believer Des was in self-preservation. And yet no survival instinct warned her that here was trouble. No inner voice said, “Something’s got to go wrong because I’m feeling way too good.” She was simply caught there, flat-footed, when she yanked open that door.
And standing there before her, wearing a charcoal gray flannel suit and a smile, was the single most beautiful black man she had ever seen in her life.
The air went right out of her body as soon as she saw him. Her knees wobbled, stomach clenched. “H-Hello, Brandon…” she stammered, barely getting the words out.
“Right back at you, Desi,” he said in that rich burgundy voice of his. “We need to talk. It’s important. May I come in?”