Indiscriminate Attraction. Linda Hudson-Smith

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      Smiling gently, Chancellor nodded. “I’d much rather be early than late.”

      “I’m an advocate of promptness myself. Do you drink coffee?”

      A look of surprise briefly flashed in Chancellor’s eyes. Her offer had shocked him. “I do, but are you sure you’re okay with that?”

      “If I let you in, you’re not going to kill me, are you?” If only she knew how to hold her tongue. While Laylah had always had the nerve to speak her mind, she wished she hadn’t done so in this instance. Even if she had been joking, the comment was inappropriate.

      “I’m not a dangerous person. You don’t know that for sure, so maybe I should just get to the gardening. Perhaps you can hand me a cup of java outside the back door.”

      Laylah sucked her teeth. “That’s not happening. Come on in. Please.”

      Feeling the awkwardness of the moment, Chancellor seemed reluctant to cross the threshold. This entire situation made him nervous despite that he’d never bring any harm to her. Only he knew that for sure. He in fact planned to warn her not to ever do something like this again. If she were to let the wrong type of person into her home, it might prove hazardous to her health. A male neighbor had let him in the walking gate.

      Still regretful over her offhand comment, Laylah extended her hand to him. “It’s okay. Really, it is. Please come inside.”

      Not wanting to hurt her feelings in any way, Chancellor took her hand for a brief moment. He then came inside. At her suggestion, he followed her back to the kitchen, where she gestured for him to take a seat at the table. Upon noticing where her mug had been placed, he sat on the opposite end.

      He liked the feel of her warm, cozy kitchen. It was a cheerful place and was a comfortably accommodating size. Equipped with stainless-steel appliances, everything was shiny and bright. A stainless-steel bowl of sunny lemons and fresh limes served as a centerpiece for the round maple table and accompanying six chairs.

      After filling another mug with steaming hot coffee, Laylah carried it to the table and handed it over to Chancellor. She then pulled out a chair and plopped down onto it. “How’d you do at the motel last night?”

      “Good. The room was nice and clean. Thanks for asking.”

      “You’re welcome. Glad you had a good night. Did you get to talk to Arlie?”

      “Just for a minute or two. He seems like a nice guy. He also offered me work.”

      “Doing what?”

      “A few odd jobs, nothing major. I just happen to be a great handyman.”

      “That will certainly work in your favor. How long have you been out there?” She couldn’t bring herself to use the “homeless” word to describe his situation, not to his face. In her opinion, the term itself was fraught with desperation.

      “Not long. I’d imagine a minute or two is too long for most folks. Stuff happens.” Because she had been so nice to him, he wanted to share more of his story with her, but he didn’t think the timing was right. He lifted his mug. “You make a great cup of coffee.”

      Laylah blushed slightly. “Thanks. Would you like some breakfast?”

      “No, thank you. I’d just like to get to work before it gets too hot out there.”

      “I know what you mean. If you want to bring your coffee along, we can step out the back door so I can show you what needs to be done around the place.”

      Chancellor grabbed his mug. “Mind if I ask for a refill?”

      “Not at all. I’d be happy to get it for you.” Laylah took the mug and marched right over to the stove and refilled it. She then again summoned Chancellor to follow her.

      The small patch of lawn wasn’t even half the size Chancellor had expected. There were only a few ornery weeds in the flower beds, nothing overwhelming. Living in a town house offered limited space for a yard and such, but he could see that Laylah had made the most of what she had. All her plants and shrubs were evergreen, giving her greenery year-round. The colorful flowers were perennials rather than annuals.

      “I can knock out this job in no time. Where do you keep the mower?”

      “In the garage.” She pointed at a side door. “I’ll open it for you to get the mower out. All my other gardening tools are hung on the walls inside the garage. They’ll be easy enough to spot. Knock on the back door when you’re finished.”

      “How much time do I have?”

      “An hour and a half before I have to get off to work. Is that okay?”

      “That’s ample time. There’s not that much to do.”

      “Let me know when you’re finished.” She turned to go back inside, only to turn back around. “By the way, there’s plenty of bottled water and lots of other cold drinks in the fridge inside the garage. Help yourself to whatever you want.”

      Overwhelmed again by Laylah’s generosity, he nodded his understanding. Other than his deceased grandparents and a few folks from their generation, he hadn’t run into too many people as kindhearted as her. In the dog-eat-dog world he had lived in, mostly everyone had looked out for number one, hardly ever caring about the needs of others.

      Laylah felt hot all over by the time she finally opened the side door. What was it about this guy that had her acting so out of character, so insanely weird? She wasn’t the kind of person who lied to herself—and she wasn’t about to start now. She was hot for Chancellor, homeless or otherwise. The man made her pulse race and she couldn’t even put a name to what else occurred to her physically. She just knew she felt flushed all over whenever he was around. No one but no one had ever made her feel this out of control.

      Laylah’s parents, semiretired television news correspondents Jack and Selma Versailles, would think their youngest child had totally lost her mind. Brandon, her television entertainment correspondent brother, would rib her unmercifully if he ever found out about the man she secretly admired. And her uppity, well-to-do sixty-seven-and sixty-nine-year-old aunts, Cora and Gertrude, might be stunned to learn that their niece was hopelessly infatuated with a homeless man.

      “Tell Cora and Ask Gertrude” was the name of the newspaper column her two spinster aunts wrote, which just happened to be a write-in column to seek advice for the lovelorn. She was already entertaining the idea of anonymously writing in with her dilemma just to see what sagacious advice they’d offer her.

      How would someone go about presenting a weird situation like this one to their very own family members? What would she say when questions were asked about Chancellor, like what profession was he in and where did he reside—and what were his future aspirations? Laylah knew this was much too serious a situation for her to continue making light of it. She was too smitten.

      “Whoa!” Laylah suddenly began to realize she had gotten way ahead of herself…and way ahead of Chancellor, too. Sure she was wildly attracted to him, but was he even remotely interested in her on a romantic level? If so, she hadn’t seen an inkling of such. The man had been nothing but polite and friendly toward her, yet she had been going on and on in her mind about him since the first moment she’d laid eyes on him.

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