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“You’re usually out and about, huh?” I ask.
“Yeah. Training, work, catching up with friends…different things. You know.” His smile is small, but seems sincere. “How about you?”
“I normally work from home so it’s not quite as big a difference for me. And I love my apartment and the view.” It is one of the reasons I didn’t move back to Texas after finishing my English degree at Berkeley. I fell for San Francisco. The bay and the bridge and the nightlife and everything. The hills and the trams and the little restaurants down by the water. I adore it all. “Annoying not to be able to just go out and do whatever you want, though.”
“It sure is,” he agrees.
“I talked to my family and FaceTimed one of my friends earlier, but just going to grab a decent coffee and a pastry or going for a walk or hitting the gym…”
“Tell me about it.” When he leans on the railing, the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms flex in a fascinating manner. “I’m usually there a couple of hours a day. Push-ups and sit-ups in the living room don’t really have the same effect. There’s a treadmill and a bike in the spare room, but it’s not the same.”
“And we’re only on day two.”
“Shit. Don’t remind me.” He runs a hand through the dark blond waves at the top of his head. The layers scatter and fall back in place, like he intended it that way.
“So, you’re apartment-sitting for Jake?” I ask. Because I’m nosy. Most of us writers are.
Evan looks away for a moment, taking in the overcast sky and empty city. “Yeah. I, ah…I’m just looking after the place for him while he’s overseas working.”
“Okay.”
His response sounds off somehow, but I’ll let it go for now.
A fluffy ginger feline appears and winds herself around his legs. Evan glares down at the animal, his brow deeply furrowed. The man is seriously perturbed.
“Gloria,” I coo. “How’s the little fur baby?”
He raises a brow. “You like the cat? You want it?” His words are flat and emotionless. He’s serious and something about that has me chuckling.
“Give Jake’s cat away and he might not be so interested in letting you use his apartment again.”
“Hopefully I’m not going to need it again anytime soon.” His big shoulders drop as if he’s suddenly carrying the weight of the world. “She doesn’t even like me. She’s just putting on a display for you. Evil little devil-kitty.”
“Oh, poor Gloria. She probably misses her daddy.” I smile. “You’re not a cat person, huh?”
“Apparently not.” He grimaces at the cat.
I laugh. The expression of disgust on his face is hilarious. And Gloria just went right on rubbing her sweet little head against his calf muscle without a care in the world. Cats are awesome. All of the attitude in the world and then some. Such champion nappers, too. “I’m allergic or I’d happily have Gloria over for a holiday.”
“Why don’t you have a dog? You seem like an animal lover.”
“Too high maintenance. They need walks and sometimes I’ll go ages without going out. If I’m working on something, really in the right headspace for it, then I don’t want to have to stop just to take a pooch for a walk.”
“They’re loyal and fun.” He is trying to make it sound more appealing.
“They do dog biscuit farts, Evan.”
He throws his head back and laughs. My God, he’s pretty. Somewhere low in my belly tenses in the most pleasurable way watching him laugh. Those muscles flexing and moving deliciously. So, apparently my loins still work. Nice to know. Flirting with my new and temporary neighbor, however, would be bad. Unwise. For reasons my lusty brain will figure out any time now.
How the man goes from being a drunken ass to prime eye candy within the space of a few minutes is disconcerting, to say the least. Though, to be fair, I was eyeing up his impressive body before we even exchanged words. All of those hours he spent in the gym showed just fine, thank you very much. Not that I’d ever be interested in a gym rat. Nope. Not me. Not after Sean with his ironclad routine and high expectations. Constantly working overtime and on call around-the-clock.
Next time I’m going to go for a more free and easy man. Someone I can just relax with who makes me laugh. Someone who doesn’t grill me about my 401k. I bet my new neighbor never even eats ice cream. Sure as hell, there isn’t an inch of body fat on him. Meanwhile, my ass owes a debt to cookies that can never be repaid.
“Come on, have a drink with me.” He smiles boyishly and I can’t help but return the grin.
“I have to work.” I really need to get more words on the page. My editor and publisher have been hounding me for my next manuscript for months. Only for some reason, my muse has gone kaput. She’s been extremely persnickety as of late. Quiet as a mouse. Until this isolation hit and I laid eyes on my new neighbor yesterday while he hollered at assorted people on the phone. Apparently I’m a peeping tom. Who knew? Just last night I completed the entire first chapter of a new novel. Four thousand glorious words on the page. And now, I’m thinking maybe Chapter 2 will entail hot jock having a workout or a shower. I bite down on my lip imagining all that is Evan naked, wet, and in the shower.
