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“Jesus, bro, you sure know how to suck the fun out of a room.” The resemblance was obvious to her now, and JP rolled his eyes. He must have gotten Keith’s share of the sociable genes. “Think you could you scowl any harder?”
Keith’s lips compressed even thinner.
“Guess you can,” JP mumbled. They did look a lot alike. Black hair, startling blue eyes, olive complexion. JP wasn’t as tall or nearly as built, but he was certainly no slouch.
“Think you could actually do some work to earn your paycheck instead of flirting with the neighbor?”
JP’s eyes lit as they shifted back to her. “No shit,” he said, happy once again. “You bought the place across the street?”
“I did.” His jovial personality made it easy to feel comfortable despite the cold waves wafting off Keith.
“Well, welcome to the neighborhood.” JP snickered. “I feel like this could be really good for me. And for you, if you know what I mean.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Had anyone else spoken to her with such blatant innuendo, she might have bristled, but as it was, he seemed like so much fun she couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. Like Ronnie, she could envision him becoming a friend.
Now his growly brother on the other hand…
Keith rolled his very nice eyes and shoulder-bumped his brother out of the way. “When you’re done making an ass of yourself, JP, I need you to pull her car into bay three.” He held his hand out and stared at her.
“Um…” Was he waiting for something?
JP snorted. “The keys, hon. Sorry, he’s a bit of a caveman but we love him anyway. He’s gonna need your keys.” With a glower of his own, he elbowed his brother. “Keith, next time try saying something like, ‘May I please have your keys so we can move your car.’ You’ll find life so much easier if you use polite words.”
Keith just glared at him with a look that had Mickie cringing. Her intention hadn’t been to cause any sibling strife, but JP seemed unaffected by Keith’s demeanor.
She shook her head, “Of course. Sorry, I should have realized.” As she dropped them on Keith’s upturned palm, her fingers brushed his skin and the same goddammed zing that shocked her yesterday rocked her again.
A buzz of electricity shot up her arm, traveled down her spine, and settled low in her belly, turning into an inconvenient flutter. “Sorry,” she whispered as she snatched her hand back to her side.
“Here.” Keith tossed the keys over his shoulder without so much as a glance in JP’s direction. “Make yourself useful. I’ll take care of Michaela.”
“Mmm, I bet you will,” JP said with a wink before he snagged the keys out of midair, then disappeared through the same door Keith used. Only he was laughing whereas Keith still hadn’t managed to erase the scowl from his face.
The man hated her. It shouldn’t be getting under her skin. He was nothing to her. A neighbor she’d met three times and exchanged twenty words with, max. So why the hell was his undisguised disdain grating on her like an itchy mosquito bite?
Because he woke up her neglected libido?
She sighed.
He sure as hell made for some delicious eye candy, but his appearance wasn’t why she’d spent two hours the previous night frowning at her television while trying to figure out how to get on his good side.
In her new life, she’d vowed to be different. To be better than she’d been the past ten years. To be someone kind and likable from the first meeting. Scarlett had a reputation as a high-maintenance bitch—admittedly well-deserved, but it was a status she now felt ashamed of. Michaela, on the other hand, was a blank slate. No one had preconceived opinions about her personality, and she’d planned to capitalize on that professionally and personally. Offending the first man she encountered in her new town because he thought she was a cold-hearted, unapproachable snob wasn’t exactly the vibe she was going for.
“Fucking child,” Keith muttered under his breath.
Hopefully he was referring to his brother and not her. It was difficult to tell since he wouldn’t give her his eyes.
“Got some papers for you to sign,” he said, gaze still anywhere but on her.
Repressing another sigh, she stepped up to the counter. If aloof was how he wanted to play it, that was his right. The urge to demand he look at her and tell her straight to her face what his problem with her was grew strong, but she suppressed it. “Sure, whatever you need,” she said instead.
He grunted in response and thrust a stack of papers her way. “Third page and last page need a signature. The last page is an itemized invoice for the tire and the roadside.”
“Got it.” She handed over her credit card, then moved on to the paperwork. After signing the third page, she flipped to the end and scrawled her name across the line without bothering to check the bill total.
