The movers not-so-carefully put down the last load of boxes and handed me the clipboard. "Sign here, here, and there." He half-points to the small boxes that cleared them of any liability for missing or broken items. Usually you unpack and then sign these things, or at least take a quick inventory. I guess he can tell I just want them out of my hair.

"Thanks." I hand over the paperwork and watch the crew make their way out of my house. My house. That sounds weird. I thought it was going to be our house, but here I am. Alone.

This house definitely is not a home, not yet anyway. Every room is cluttered with impersonal brown boxes containing God only knows what. Immediately I regret the rushed pack job. I don't even have a box-cutter or scissors, looks like my keys will have to do until I find something more appropriate.

Priorities. The kitchen is the most logical place to start. The clock on the oven flashes 12:00 over and over again. My cell phone tells me that it is actually 3:57 pm. I fiddle with a few buttons and soon the time is set. First task complete! Not exactly a pressing need, but still, it would have to be done eventually, right? I think that deserves a reward of some kind.

The fridge is empty, I don't have to open it to know that much. Okay, I have a house full of boxes, zero food, and most importantly absolutely nothing to drink. I grab my purse, toss my cell phone and keys inside, and make my way out the door. It's a short walk to the main street, and lucky for me there's a little deli within a block of the wine and beer store.

The streets aren't exactly crowded, but there's a few people milling about. It's a cute little town. More than cute, it's picturesque. That's what the realtor said anyway, and that's what sold us on the area. A nice place to raise a family. My heart could burst just thinking about it.

The two bottles of white chime against each other as I cross the street. I pull my scarf from my neck and wrap it around one bottle to silence the evidence of what the evening holds for me. In my state of distraction I fail to notice that I'm walking straight into someone. Great. I look up and put on my best sorry-I'm-new-here smile.

"Sorry," he beats me to the apology, "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"I was going to say the exact same thing." We both give a polite laugh and he turns to let me pass. Wow, he's gorgeous. I feel my cheeks redden and quickly move past him muttering a quiet, "Thank you."

Once I'm inside the safety of the quaint little deli I realize I've been holding my breath. Why am I so flustered? It's not like I haven't noticed attractive men before. I close my eyes for a second and collect myself. It's been a long day, and a longer few weeks. I look around the shop and pick out some snacks to tide me over until I can visit a proper grocery, mentally promising to go shopping tomorrow.

Sandwiches, snack food, and wine. Pretty successful for my first trip into town. It's a quick walk, but it feels good to be out, to be moving. It's a bright afternoon, a little chilly for spring, but nothing I can't handle. I consider un-scarfing my wine bottle, but I'm almost home.

As I make my way down my new street I get the feeling that I'm being followed. I quickly glance behind me, and there is someone behind me, but I can't really tell how sinister they are without making it really obvious that I'm looking. Is this one of those times where politeness can get me in trouble? I start by looking across the street casually and then take a quick glance over my shoulder. It's a man, definitely, and he's closer now.

"I'm not following you, I promise." I nearly jump out of my skin.

I stop and slowly turn around. FML. "Oh, I didn't think you were." I try to sound casual, failing miserably. "Just taking it all in." I look around and wish the ground would swallow me whole.

He glances around and furrows his brow. "Uh, yeah." A grin slowly spreads over his mouth and I know I'm busted.

"It's just that I'm new to the area and well, you know, maybe I'm a little paranoid, but a woman can never be too careful." Stop talking, I plead with myself.

"I agree." He's shy. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks past me. Okay, I get it. We're done here. I turn and keep walking, very aware that he is only a few feet behind me. Our footsteps fall into synch and I am feeling very self-conscious. Oh just go for it!

"Now this is just weird," I say with a smile. He blushes slightly and lets out a timid giggle.

"Yeah it kind of is." He smiles back at me. "I live nearby, I'm really not following you."

"Well then we're practically neighbors."

"Are you in the blue house on Pine?" His question takes me aback. His expression changes and I feel my heart start to race. How does he know where I live? "I noticed the SOLD sign a few days ago," he explains. I feel myself relax slightly and I'm sure my cheeks give away my embarrassment.

"That's me."

"I'm just around the corner from you then. I'm Sid." He offers his hand.

"Kate." His hand warms mine as we shake briefly.

"Nice to meet you," he quickly stuffs his hands back into his pockets.

We start walking down the street, side by side this time. I'm suddenly very relieved that I've silenced the wine bottles in my tote bag. Why do I care what he thinks? I'm not sure.

"Are you from around here?" Neither of us are great at small talk.

"No, I moved here for work. I'm from a small city in Canada that no one has ever heard of."

He laughs. I'm not sure why, I wasn't making a joke. "Try me, " he challenges.

"Saskatoon."

"Oh you're from Saskatchewan," he beams.

"You know it?" This is unexpected.

"I haven't been, but I've heard of it, yes."

"Well, color me impressed."

I stand in front of my house, unsure of what to say. Do I invite him for a drink? The house is a disaster, but somehow I don't think he would mind. He speaks first. "Well, welcome to the neighborhood." He smiles shyly.

"Maybe when I'm a little more settled you can stop in for a drink?" The invitation is out of my mouth before I can even consider my options.

"I'd love to."

He turns and walks away. I start toward the front door and steal a quick glance back in his direction. He's looking back at me and gives me a quick wave.

For the first time in almost a year, my heart flutters.