And then my new neighbor unceremoniously dumps everything right on his front lawn.
“Oh, hell no,” I hiss. Nicole is going to kill me if that’s there when she comes tomorrow with the potential buyers.
“What’s happening?”
“He’s making a goddamn mess.”
“Go yell at him!”
“On it. I’ll call you later.” I hang up and jump to my feet.
There was a time when I wouldn’t have said a word, but four months ago, I decided I was done acting small.
Rowan Miller is about to learn that if he’s going to live there, he’s going to have to deal with me.
And unlike the rest of the people in this town, I’m not going to let him get away withanything.
CHAPTER 3
BLAKE
I slide on my Vans, throw on a cardigan, and tumble out the front door, fists clenched and heart pumping.
Rowan’s back is to me. I march toward his hulking frame, ready for a fight. “What onearthdo you think you’re doing?”
He pauses mid-step, all six-foot-something of him, and turns around.
I’ve seen him plenty of times. He and his business partner have dinner at Frostbite every few weeks, and even though I’m usually behind the bar, sometimes we’re short on staff, and I help the servers out. I brought his dinner to him once or twice, so I know exactly what I’m about to encounter.
And still, his face catches me off guard.
It’s the face of a seductive villain straight from the pages of one of my books. Tanned skin. Thick brows. Terrific bone structure.
The symmetry of his features is so pronounced that it borders on offensive.
And it doesn’t end with his face. Not even close.
I glance up and see the wind ruffling his soft, chestnut hair, blowing a lock across his forehead. He brushes it away with a careless swipe of his tattooed hand.
I glance down and see his body. It’s well-built and extravagant. The kind of body meant to be lusted after, obsessed over.
If someone’s appearance was the only thing that mattered, I’d say it’s no wonder the women in town fall over themselves to climb into his bed.
But looks aren’t everything, and I’m convinced that no one that good-looking can possibly be a decent person. When people treat you like you’re God’s gift to women, eventually you start to believe them.
Rowan blinks at me a few times, apparently confused. “Taking out the trash,” he deadpans after a moment. A brow arches on his infuriatingly perfect face. “Is that all right?”
“No, it’s not actually. You can’t just show up here and turn the Jacksons’ front lawn into a dump.”
“Who are you? The neighborhood watch?”
I give him a withering look. How nice of him to mock me and remind me exactly who I’m dealing with here.
An arrogant ass.
“You can call me whatever you want, as long as you get rid ofthat.” I point at the mess. “If you’re renovating the house, you’ll need to get a dumpster. I would have expected a general contractor to know that.”
A smirk. “You know who I am?”
