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“No worries,” he says.
We both stand up, and that’s when I see it. The wing tattoo on his neck. And in that moment, I know that he is who I thought he was.
Oh my God.
I’ve been living next to Devon Reeve.
3
DEVON
It takes a lot to get me out of my apartment these days. I have what I need, and whatever I don’t, I choose to have delivered to my door. That’s the only reason I pressed an eye to my peephole. When I heard the commotion outside my apartment, I thought it might be the delivery person I’m expecting today, and I got up to see what the hell was going on.
Instead, I peered through the peephole and saw a curvy goddess picking up her spilled groceries, with her brunette hair tied back away from her face and her brows sweetly furrowed with dismay. And then, against all reason, I was unlocking my door and walking out to make sure she was okay.
I knew she recognized me when she looked at me. Those pretty brown eyes of hers immediately went wide with disbelief. But I tried to ignore that, as well as her continued stare. It would have been nice if she didn’t know who I was, but so much for that. Can’t do anything about it now.
“Thanks,” she says as I set the chips into the second grocery bag. “It was really nice of you to help.”
“No worries,” I say.
We both stand up, the difference in our height becoming much more apparent. I have at least half a foot of height on her. I’m about to offer to carry the groceries into her apartment when she raises a hand to cover her mouth and wavers on her feet. And then, as if it’s happening in slow motion, I see that she’s standing way too close to the edge of the landing, and that if she loses her balance, she might fall right down those stairs she just walked up.
I jump forward, grabbing her and pulling her away from the dangerous edge. She gasps as my hands close around her arms and pull her toward me. Her eyes flash up at me, even wider now and even more gorgeous up close.
“Careful,” I say, my hands still protectively gripping her arms. “You almost took a tumble there.”
“I—um—” she stammers, then clears her throat. “You’re—you’re really?—”
I patiently wait for her to get over the shock. But she just keeps blinking at me with widened eyes.
“I’m Devon,” I say.
She nods. “I know.”
I smile gently. “And you are?”
“Kaci.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Kaci.”
She swallows. “Likewise.”
“Can I help you bring in your groceries?”
“Oh, you don’t—I mean—I wouldn’t want to take up any more of your time. I’m sure you’re busy.”
“I’m not.” I let go of her, even though I’d rather not. It’s been too long since I’ve had any kind of physical contact. It’s something I miss. Deeply. “What apartment are you in?”
“Number seven.”
I pause. She’s right next to me? Suddenly regret fills my chest, knowing I could have met her long before this, if only I didn’t live like such a hermit.
“So we’re neighbors,” I say.
She smiles, still obviously getting over her shock. “Yes. So we are.”
I pick up her grocery bags and follow her to her front door. As she’s fumbling with her keys, my eyes helplessly slide down her generous curves, but then I silently chide myself and force my gaze back up. Then we’re walking into her apartment, which is the same size as mine, only with a flipped layout. But aside from the mirrored image, nothing about her place is similar to mine.
