So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door (10 page)

Fuck.

I was afraid that’s why she hit the pavement so quickly that
morning.

“So, you just want to be friends?”

“Yeah. Neighbors. Friends. I just think it’s best this way.”
Her chest rises and falls as she inhales and slowly exhales.

Reluctance?

I move back to my side of the table and grab the check
waiting on its corner.

“Okay. I can respect that.” I don’t understand it, but I’ll
do my best to respect it.

Though I’m not sure how good
my best
is.

Later, I pull into my garage and cut the engine.

At her front door, she fidgets with her keys as though she
has something to say.

Fidgeting is good. It means she doesn’t want to walk away
from me.

I don’t want to walk away from her either. So I’ll try
again, but more subtly this time.

I graze my knuckles along the side of her arm, barely
touching her silky skin. “I was thinking maybe we can be friends that kiss. You
know, just every now and then.”

She rolls her eyes, but a small smile plays at her lips.
“Friends that kiss? Is that like fuck buddies, only not
quite
as
involved?”

“Face it, Beautiful Girl. I’m never going to look at you and
not
think about kissing you—about how you came apart at the seams in my
arms. Attracted and aroused is my
default
when it comes to you. Of
course I want to kiss you. I’m
always
going to want to kiss you.
Always.”

She brushes her fingers down her throat. “Well, I-I—good to
know.”

Kelsey turns and rams the key into the lock, twisting and
yanking and struggling to get it to turn the tumbler.

I step behind her, allowing my erection to brush against her
as I take the key from her hands and unlock her door.

She smells of pineapple and mint, a combination I’d never
have thought would be so good together.

I push the door open and whisper, “Good night, Kelsey. I’ll
see you around, I hope.”

She nods and almost jumps across the threshold. “See you later,
Adam.”

My heart thuds almost as loudly as the slamming door.

I grin.

I lean against the inside of my front door, my heart racing.

That man.

All the freaking feels.

Is he like this with every woman? Does he tease and woo and
lure all the girls this way?

All the things Matt hasn’t done in
years
, Adam
does—and it seems like he’s not even trying. Like he naturally gives a shit
about whether I’m hot or cold. Like he really thinks I’m beautiful.

It’s almost like—he cares.

But he didn’t deny it when I said it seems he only does the
casual thing. He didn’t insist that he wants more. He didn’t offer anything
other than some kisses between friendly neighbors.

Even without false promises, he has too much charm for one
man.

I drag through the house to my desk.

No. I need to keep my distance. Find someone who doesn’t see
me as just another pussy.

I’ll check my email and see if
Today’s Suggested Dates
are promising.

I slip on my strappy red sandals. They’re my go-to sexy shoes.
My linen pencil skirt is freshly pressed, and my princess-cut top accentuates
my waist.

After locking up the house, I pirouette outside the front
windows, the closest thing I have to a full-length mirror.

I turn again, checking my reflection in the glass over my
shoulder. “Not bad.”

Adam steps into view at the edge of the window. He tosses
the two black bags of brush or grass or whatever he’s filled them with down at
the curb and pulls off his work gloves. His chest is bare, and he’s covered in
a fine sheen of sweat. The sun highlights the dips and ridges of his muscles,
sending a quiver through my core.

“No,
not bad
isn’t enough. Fucking gorgeous. And
those shoes—they should come with a warning label.”

My stomach does a summersault. I place my hand over it and
take a deep breath.

His charm will get him nowhere.

“Good, I hope
my date
will think the same thing.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Another date, eh? This one from that
site too?”

“Yes. He seems nice.” I smooth out my skirt again, checking
the navy fabric for lint.

“Oh? Not afraid he’s padded his résumé?”

No way am I telling Adam that I’m more than a little worried
I’m being snookered again.

I smile. “This time, I asked to see his other social media
stuff. So, unless he’s built a really elaborate alter ego, then I think he’s at
least being truthful about how he looks.”

“Good. Let me know if you need me to show how him much you
hate lies.” His eyes are hidden by his shades, but I can imagine the glint in
them.

“Thanks. But I can handle my dates on my own.” I turn toward
my car.

“Yes, I’m sure you can. Be safe.”

I get into the car and buckle in. I dig into the side pocket
of my purse for the key.

Crap. Where is it?

I shuffle junk from the pocket to the seat next to me. No
keys.

I dig through old tissues, kiddie meal toys, and a thousand and
one pens. Still no keys.

Great. The house is locked.

No house keys. No car keys.

No magic words to
open says me
.

Perfect.

I drop my forehead to the heated steering wheel.

Great. Now I’ll get all sweaty and gross.

Not that it matters—I can’t get to the restaurant anyway.

Damn it!

Is this your way of telling me to forget dating, God? Is
that it?

Will I be alone forever? Or destined to be with guys who
don’t give a shit about me?

A knock at my window snaps me upright.

I open the door. “
What
?”

Adam crosses his arms. “I was about to ask you the same
question.”

“Keys. I have no keys. They were in my purse, and now they
aren’t.”

“And the house is locked?”

I grip the wheel. “That’s the problem. If it weren’t locked,
I’d hop on in there and grab my keys…from wherever-the-fuck they disappeared
to.”

“You can call a locksmith.”

I slump. “Yeah. I guess I could. Shit. I’m going to be late.
And this guy actually seems like he has potential.”

Adam lets out a long sigh. “Potential, eh?”

“Well, more than the others. I just—ugh. My life. There’s
always something fucking it up.”

“Give me a minute. I’ll get you into your house.”

I spring from the car. “Really? You can do that?”

“Yeah. I can do that.”

He heads next door and is back by the time I reach my front
porch.

He pokes a couple of small tools into the lock. Then he
jiggles the door handle, and it opens as if he used a key.

My jaw drops.

He shrugs. “Misspent youth?”

“Not misspent. Thank you. Thank you so freaking much.”

I step inside, leaving the door open. Adam follows.

Searching all the flat surfaces yields nothing.

Adam digs into the cushions on the couch. Nada.

I spy Chloe curled up in the bottom of my potted fichus
tree.

I pick up her limp body. “Did you steal my keys, you little
terrorist?”

She answers with a meow.

Nestled into the peat moss where she’s made her nest are my
keys, along with three emery boards and two unmatched socks.

I snatch the keys and jingle them. “Got them. The cat
must’ve stolen them from my purse. The little turd.”

Adam’s eyebrows rise. “Got yourself a thief, huh?”

Shaking my head, I motion him to the door. “Yeah. She’s
almost as bad as your thieving dog.”

“Hey now, I broke into your house so you could go on a date—a
date with some douche who isn’t
me
, to boot. I’ll thank you not to slander
my dog.”

I grin. “Just keeping it real, my friend. Your mutt is a
thief. But so is my cat, and there we are.”

Adam doesn’t come to my car to see me off like he did last
time. He probably doesn’t give a flying rat’s ass if I’m going out with someone
else.

He gives a half-hearted wave as I back out of my driveway. I
return it, putting on an extra-bright smile.

Why do I care if he doesn’t give a shit that I might fuck
someone besides him?

What is
wrong
with me? I tell him
friends only
,
and then I want him to chase me?

Good Lord, he makes me freaking bi-polar.

* * *

Hunter stands from his bench seat as I enter The Sushi
House.

Relief floods through me.

At least he
looks
like his photos. Tall, fit, and all
of his dark hair in place. Hopefully, everything else he’s told me is true as
well.

Hunter pulls out my chair.

Would Adam have done the same if we’d have sat at a regular
table and not a booth the other night?

We order drinks. I unfold and refold my napkin six times
before they arrive.

Hunter’s brown eyes are kind when he says, “Nervous?”

I rub my knuckle across my eyebrow. “A little, I guess.
Sorry if the fidgeting bothers you.”

“No need to apologize. Nerves are normal, I’m sure. I’ve
been on too many first dates, it’s getting pretty old hat for me, I’m afraid.
Second dates are the ones that make me nervous now.”

“Really?
Second
dates?”

“Because I’ve had so few.” He laughs. “A lot of the women I
meet on that site aren’t quite what they’ve presented themselves to be.”

I snatch a breath. “Oh. My. Gosh! Yes, I know exactly what
you mean. I’ve had that experience with the one other guy I’ve met through the
site. He wasn’t at all who he pretended to be online.”

We chat a bit about online dating and how weird it is, lamenting
that there aren’t a lot of other choices without hitting the bar scene.

The stories Hunter shares about his childhood, and the way
he and his sister were with each other, are comedian-worthy material.

“…And so my sister rams the forbidden shirt into the garbage
disposal to hide it. When Granny comes in, Brit strolls across the room, all
nonchalant-like, trying to draw attention away from the hidden contraband. Of
course, Granny had a half a plate of spaghetti that she promptly dumps into the
sink. You should have heard the sound the thing made when she flipped the
switch and turned on the disposal. The house could have been coming down around
us. Granny almost had a heart attack, and Britney melted into tears.” He shakes
his head, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

I burst out laughing.

I wonder if Adam has brothers or sisters.

Ack! I have to stop thinking about Adam.

Hunter stands when I excuse myself to go to the ladies’
room.

He really is the perfect gentleman.

Did Adam do that? Wait. No. I didn’t excuse myself from the
table while we were out.

Damn. Why do I keep thinking about Adam? He is
not
supposed
to be on this date with me.

After Hunter pays the bill, he ushers me outside. We stand
by my car and talk. And the more we talk, the more awkward it seems to get.
It’s as if neither of us know exactly how to end the evening.

I should put us out of our misery.

“Okay. I really should be going. I’ve enjoyed meeting you.”

He reaches for my hand and steps closer. But then he stops
short, like he’s not sure if he’s gotten into my space or not.

I grin. “You want to kiss me, don’t you?”

He nods as he slips his arms around me and pulls me in, but
not too tightly. “I really do.”

His spicy and clean scent envelops me.

Hunter’s lips come down, nice and easy. Firm enough, but not
too insistent, they feather across my mouth and then back again. He pulls away
but doesn’t let go.

Not
bad
.

He grins. “I’d like to do that again.”

This time, he pulls me closer and presses his lips to mine.
Then his tongue slides along the seam of my lips, tentatively, as though he’s
asking permission.

Adam doesn’t ask—he just does.

Fuck.

Get out of my head, Adam.

I open to Hunter, allowing his tongue to sweep in. He holds
me tighter and deepens the kiss. I do my best to participate, but…it’s just—he’s—
not
Adam.

Crap.

Shit.

No fair.