“Adam,” he says. “I’ll tell you my last name at lunch.”
I slam the truck door and stomp off toward my front door, which is less than a hundred feet away, right beneath Adam’s front door. I’m a few feet away from the door when I hear his truck door slam shut. He’s not chasing after me. For some reason I’m both relieved and disappointed by this.
I turn the key in the lock and quickly slip inside before he can reach the staircase leading to his apartment. I slam the front door shut and let out a deep sigh as I lean back against the cool surface of the door. The apartment is stiflingly hot and smells like the day-old muffins I brought home from work this afternoon, but it feels safe.
The knock on the door startles me and I immediately go into defensive-mode. Who the hell does this guy think he is, almost running me over, assuming we’re going on a lunch date, then knocking on my door at nearly one a.m.?
I yank open the door, ready to rip him apart, when I see my purse dangling from his finger. I grab it and I’m about to slam the door before I remember Cora. She would be devastated if she knew her new tenant and I were already on bad terms.
Cora’s husband died six years ago and her family lives almost three thousand miles away in Idaho. She never leaves the house and her caregiver is a bit standoffish, so her tenants are all she has. The single mom who lived upstairs got remarried and moved out right before I moved in. The upstairs apartment has been empty for four months. Cora must be ecstatic to have a new tenant and some extra income. And I’m ecstatic I won’t have to catch her eating cat food straight from the can anymore.
“Thanks,” I mutter as he grips the doorway and leans into my personal space, but I hold my ground even though he’s making me more uncomfortable than I felt at the party.
“You’re welcome, Claire. Can I come in?”
A gust of laughter escapes my lips as I take a step back. “Does that usually work for you?”
He shrugs. “Usually, yes, it does.”
“No, you can’t come in. I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Adam.”
I push the door closed and he sticks his foot on the threshold to stop it. “I’ll be back at two o’clock to take you to lunch. Is that late enough or do you plan on sleeping all afternoon?”
“Goodnight, Adam.” You persistent, sexy little shit!
I push the door closed and immediately lock the deadbolt. Snatching a bottle of cold water out of the fridge, I drink half of it before I change into an oversized t-shirt and slide under my comforter. I stare at the ceiling for a moment before another memory plays out in front of me like a home movie.
Chris sets my backpack down on the floor in a plain bedroom with a teddy bear wallpaper border. I’m used to sleeping in bedrooms decorated like a toddler’s playroom so I don’t even flinch.
“My mom wouldn’t let me take that stupid border down,” he says, lifting his chin toward the ceiling as he digs his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
That’s when I see the thin nose ring that dangles from his septum.
“I don’t care about the wallpaper. I just want to go to sleep.”
His lip quirks up in confusion. “It’s three o’clock.”
“I haven’t slept. I got kicked out last night and I spent the night at the police station. I refuse to sleep in the presence of strangers.”
“Afraid someone will shank you in your sleep?”
He smiles and I notice another piercing in his tongue. This guy thinks he’s so fucking cool.
“I’m not having sex with you,” I declare.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I see the way you’re looking at me.”
“Yeah, all right. I guess I’ll let you sleep and maybe when you wake up you’ll chill the fuck out and realize that just because someone’s nice to you it doesn’t mean they want to fuck you.”
The shadows on the ceiling blur into darkness. I grab my cell phone and the eye mask from my nightstand, power off the phone, and slide the mask over my head so it rests on my forehead.
I never set my alarm when I’m not working. I cherish the days I get to sleep in. If someone created a religion dedicated to celebrating sleep, I would be the first congregant.
I groan as I turn over in my bed and set the alarm clock on my nightstand to noon. The things I do for Cora.
Chapter Four
Relentless Amusement
WHEN I WAKE UP, SENIA is gone. I never heard her come in while I was sleeping. She’s perfected her catlike prowl so as not to wake me up when she comes in late. I take a shower then dress into some skinny jeans and a T-shirt I bought at the surf shop next to the café. I slip on some rubber flip-flops and grab a bottle of water from the fridge just as the first knock comes at the door.
“Coming!” I shout as I grab my purse then guzzle the entire bottle of water.
I open the door and Adam is standing with his back to me, staring at Cora’s front door across from mine. Even the back of him is gorgeous. His T-shirt is stretched just a bit taut over his broad shoulders and his skin is so smooth and tanned.
“Where we love is home,” he says, reading the wooden plaque with the chipped blue paint hanging on Cora’s front door.
“It’s a quote,” I say as I step outside and pull the door closed. “I gave it to her for her birthday.”
“Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts,” he says, finishing the quote. “I knew you’d be awake.”
My breath hitches as he turns around and flashes me a soft smile. He looks so good with his sandy-brown hair styled in a calculatedly messy faux-hawk and his lean muscular body towering over me. His hands are tucked into the pocket of his cargo shorts as he gazes at me waiting for my response.
“Do you read poetry?” I ask, ignoring his infuriating certainty about me being awake and waiting for him.
“When it was required in college, yes. Luckily, I graduated in May, so I’m no longer subject to such cultural annoyances.”
“Poetry is a cultural annoyance?”
He smiles because he thinks he’s aggravated me. “When do you graduate?” he asks, and it seems we’re both ignoring each other.
It’s an innocent question, but the answer has the possibility of opening up the conversation to more difficult questions. I don’t need to tell this guy that I dropped out. He’s probably going to take me out to lunch, flirt a little, then try to get into my pants, after which I will tell him to get lost and we’ll continue being courteous neighbors who never really speak to each other. Or, maybe, just because he’s being nice it doesn’t mean he wants to fuck me.
“I don’t go to school. I work,” I reply, and immediately begin walking to the carports.
He’s glued to my side as we cross the driveway toward his truck. “You like poetry and work at a café, but you don’t go to school. Are you some kind of struggling artist?”
“You’re a nosy little bastard.”
He chuckles as he deactivates his car alarm. “It’s called getting to know each other. That’s what people do on a first date.”
He opens the door for me and I look up into his gorgeous green eyes. “This isn’t a date. It’s a friendly lunch with a neighbor.”
“The neighbor who almost killed you,” he reminds me. “A little masochistic, don’t you think?”
Ugh! What a cocky little shit.
I climb into the truck and look straight ahead, ignoring him until he finally closes the door. I need to meditate, but this guy doesn’t know anything about that yet and I’d prefer to keep it that way. Maybe I can just visualize him naked to ease the tension. No, that would definitely not work in this situation.
He slides into the driver’s seat and stares at the steering wheel for a second as if he’s questioning his approach. “Okay, let’s start over. How about we just forget about what happened at the café and what almost happened on the street last night.”
“And what you just said?”
“And what I just said. What do you say? Can we start over?”
His mouth hangs open a little as he awaits my answer and I have to keep myself from imagining what it would be like to suck on his lower lip.
I take a deep breath to clear away this image. “Claire Nixon,” I say, holding out my hand.
He takes my hand and immediately brings it to his lips, laying a soft kiss on the back of my fingers. “Adam Parker, your new neighbor, at your service.”
I attempt not to roll my eyes as I pull my hand back, trying to ignore the way my heart is thrumming in my ears. “That’s cute.”
“I’m serious. Anything you need, I’m happy to help. Leaky faucet, burned out light bulb,” he pauses to wiggle his eyebrows, “anything at all.”
“Wow. You are not predictable at all,” I say, reaching for the door handle. “And I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”
He throws himself across me and grabs my hand. “Wait! I’m sorry. That was out of line. I’m being a total douche. I know. Just give me one more chance. I swear I won’t fuck it up.”
His hand is on mine and his face is inches away as he leans across my lap. He smells a little minty and a little woodsy as his heat slams into me. I focus on breathing as I watch his eyes skim down my face and land on my mouth. There’s no fighting it as my gaze falls on his lips; those soft, kissable lips he pressed against my hand just a second ago.
“What is your deal?” I ask, sliding my hand out from underneath his. “Why are you so intent on taking me to lunch? I’m fine. You don’t need to keep apologizing for nearly running me over.”
He sits up and ruffles his hair before he answers. “I actually went to the café yesterday to meet you. I saw you last week when I came to sign the rental agreement. When I asked Cora about you, what she said intrigued me.”
“What did she say?”
“I thought you wanted to ask Cora yourself?”
I glare at him and he smiles. “She said you were single.”
“And?”
“And she said you were the sweetest girl she’s ever known.”
“And?”
He sighs, looking uncomfortable for once and I’m glad I’m finally able to crack through that smug disposition of his.
“What did she say?” I demand.
“She said you might want to be my friend.”
“Be your friend?”
“I don’t know anybody around here and Cora was concerned that a quote ‘young man like you might get yourself into some trouble without a nice girl around.’”
I can’t help but smile. That sounds exactly like something Cora would say. She grew up in Minnesota and is still very old-fashioned about some things. I’ve only been on one date since I moved into this apartment two and a half months ago. The instant my date brought me home, I glimpsed Cora peeking through her blinds to make sure I wasn’t inviting him into my apartment. I love Cora, but she can be a bit nosy and meddlesome.
“So you’re just following Cora’s advice. Well, let me save you the trouble. I’ll go back inside and you can tell Cora that we went out to lunch and had a really nice time. And I’ll go back to sleep. Then we all get what we want.”
“That’s not what I want.”
He looks me in the eye and I can’t help but marvel at his features: his perfect lips, the straight slope of his nose, the intense glare. He could be on the cover of GQ magazine and thousands of girls and guys would drool in the checkout lane.
“What do you want?” I ask, wishing I had brought a bottle of water because my mouth has suddenly gone dry.
“I want to be your friend. And I want to take you to get a fucking burger.”
“Well, when you put it that way, how can a girl resist.”