Early Friday morning, they walked up the sidewalk towards Reggie’s condo. A light sprinkling of snow had fallen during the night, making the half-bare trees look even more forlorn.
The parking lot was full of cars and not one person to be seen. Dylan glanced around the condo grounds and was struck by the differences in their lives. But in spite of those differences, he found himself attracted to Reggie.
Not that anything would come of it. Not only did they live too far apart, but the distance in their lifestyles was even greater. A big city lawyer and a simple country farmer and fireman just didn’t mesh.
Dylan glanced over at Reggie. Her spine was straight, as if steeling herself for what lay ahead. Gorgeous and tough. To be abandoned by her parents had to be devastating, and yet she’d succeeded in becoming a lawyer.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to fall apart this time.” She gave him a resolute smile as she juggled several bags of cleaning supplies.
“I didn’t think you would. It won’t be so bad with two of us working.” Dylan reassured her. “We’ll be done before you know it.”
“You hardly know me and yet you’ve done so much. Now you’re insisting on helping me clean up my trashed apartment. Why?”
“It’s my slow season at the farm so I’ve got nothing better to do.” There was no logical way to explain the protectiveness he felt for her.
“Good answer, now tell me the real reason.” She set her bags on the steps and slid her key into the lock. She opened the door and led the way.
It looked worse than Dylan remembered.
“Yep, it’s still a disaster.” Her face held no expression.
“Time to get busy.” Dylan held up the cleaning supplies .
“I just can’t believe Trent did this to me.” Shaking her head, Reggie gazed around her apartment.
He’d sure like to have a little chat with this loser. Reggie should have reported the vandalism, but he wouldn’t bring it up again.
“Let’s start with the stuff to be thrown out, first.” He forced his voice to sound cheerful. “That will be half the battle, don’t you think?”
“We’re not doing anything until you answer my question.” Reggie put hands on her hips, and her green eyes twinkled as she stared at Dylan.
“What question?”
“Why…why are you being so nice to me?” Reggie obviously wasn’t used to people doing things for her without wanting something back.
“Two reasons.” Dylan turned on his most charming smile. “First, you’ve grown on me. Kinda like a ripe tomato in June. That’s what I’m telling all my buddies.”
“A tomato? Being compared to a vegetable isn’t particularly flattering.”
“Well it is if you love tomatoes as much as I do.” He laughed. “And besides tomatoes don’t usually get ripe until July so tomatoes in June are a beauty to behold—and they are a fruit, which is much more appealing than a vegetable, don’t you think?”
“I know I’m going to regret this, but what’s the other one?”
We..ell,” he said, drawing the word out so it became two syllables. “The other reason is the golden rule. You know do unto others…”
“Sounds good on paper, but people don’t really do that.” She arched an eyebrow.
“Reggie, there are good people out there who do care about other people. I know you have a hard time trusting people. I hope you know you can trust me.”
“And you follow this rule all the time?” Her eyes widened and her mouth moved.
“Can’t say I do but I try. Jesus told us to love our enemies, not that you’re my enemy—even if you did crash into me.”
“And here I thought it was because you were—” A knock stopped her words mid-sentence. Reggie walked over to answer it. “Trent, what are you doing here?”
“I thought you might want your key back.” A man pushed past Reggie without an invitation, and held up a key. He stared at the room, mouth agape, shocked by the condition of the apartment.
“Whoa! What happened here?”
“As if you didn’t know, Trent.”
Dylan saw the smirk. Trent’s shock was as bogus as a three dollar bill. Reggie was right to kick this loser to the curb.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Reg.” His voice whined like a race car hitting a curve.
His gaze locked on Dylan. Trent’s face turned red and he threw the key on the floor. It landed in a cloud of stuffing from the couch.
A thick forelock of bluish-black hair fell forward onto his perfectly chiseled face. A smartly-dressed man, complete with green work slacks and a matching polo shirt.
“Is this the…well I wouldn’t call him a man because men don’t hurt women.” Dylan stepped forward and stood by Reggie. “Is this the guy who trashed your apartment, Reggie?”
“Stick a boot in it, dude.” He turned to Reggie. “Is this who you dumped me for? From the look of the bruise on your forehead you must have lost your mind.” Trent glared at Dylan.
“I’ll tell you—”
Reggie laid a hand on Dylan’s arm. “Trent, you need to leave. Get out and don’t ever call me again. If you do, you’ll—”
“You’re letting this dude accuse me of this? I can’t believe it.” Trent whined. “I’ve got better things to do with my time. And who’s this guy, anyway? Your new lover? You sure work fast. I knew what kind of woman you were, but—”
“Hey, I think that’s enough.” Dylan stepped towards Trent, fists clenched at his side. Forgive me, Lord, but... “You’d best leave while you can still walk. You just insulted this lady.”
“Who do you think you are?” Trent turned and gave Dylan a scathing look. He turned towards Reggie. “I want to talk to you alone, Reg. Let’s go outside.”
“I’m a little busy at the moment. Maybe you’d like to stay and help us.” Reggie gave him a disgusted look. “Just get out of here and leave me alone.”
Trent grabbed Reggie’s arm and pulled her towards the door. Sarcasm dripped from his mouth. “Come on, sweetie. I need to talk to you. Alone.”
This wasn’t going to happen in front of him. Dylan took three quick steps and blocked the doorway. “Let go of her, now.”
Reggie twisted away but Trent’s grip remained firm.
“This has nothing to do with—“ Trent shoved Dylan with his free hand.
Dylan grabbed Trent by his shirt, backing him up against the wall. Trent had released Reggie somewhere along the way, and Dylan heard Reggie call his name, but he ignored her. Trent needed a lesson in treating women with respect.
With his face inches from Trent’s, Dylan held the man. “It’s not OK to put your hands on a woman, ever. She told you to leave her alone and that’s what you need to do. Got it?” He enunciated each word slowly and clearly, as if speaking to a five-year-old.
Trent’s face turned red then white. His hand came up and attempted to dislodge Dylan from his shirt, but failed.
“I don’t know who you think you—” The words came out as a whine.
“The name’s Dylan Monroe. I’m in the phone book, if you want to look me up sometime. Want me to spell it for you?”
“Let go of me.”
“I’d better not hear of you bothering Reggie again. Or you’ll hear from me and you aren’t going to like it.” Dylan let go of Trent’s shirt.
Trent opened his mouth, but snapped it shut as Dylan leaned towards him. Stomping towards the door, he whirled around and glared at Dylan, then pointed his finger at Reggie.
“This isn’t over.”
“Yes, Trent, it is.” Reggie said firmly.