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“He is now.” Connor winks and slaps my ass playfully before heading in the direction of his door. “He’s gonna be baking all the damn time,” he says, laughing, as he disappears into his house.
Well played, Connor. Well played.
It’s been three days since I left Brittany standing on her front porch. I knew the duplex next to mine had sold, but I’ve been working so much lately I never paid attention to whether or not someone had actually moved in. There’s been an old Grand Prix sitting out front a couple of times and a sleek black Audi, but I didn’t think much of it. Today, the Grand Prix is gone, but the Audi isn’t, and I’m about to find out if the sexy little car belongs to my sexy little neighbor.
Running a finger over my smartphone, it comes to life, and I shoot her a quick text.
Me: Who drives the black Audi?
Her reply is almost instant.
Brittany: Who is this?
Me: It’s your really hot neighbor.
Brittany: How did you get my number?
Me: Changed your mind already, huh?
Brittany: Not at all. I was actually wondering when you were going to make your move. Is this you making your move?
And that right there is exactly why I’m so insanely attracted to Brittany. There aren’t many women who are willing to speak their minds, but she has no problem with it. Smiling to myself, I type out a quick response.
Me: I actually tried to make my move yesterday. Went over to your place to borrow a cup of sugar, but Casey said you were working. She gave me your number.
Staring at my phone, I wait for her to reply. A couple of minutes pass and then I internally berate myself for waiting on a text. “Fuck no,” I mumble to myself.
Flipping on the TV, I find the sports channel and settle in to watch a recap of last night’s major league baseball games. The announcers are talking excitedly about the Cardinals win over the Cubs, and as they debate whether or not the Cards will sweep the series in tonight’s game, I pull out my wallet to check—for the fifth time—that the tickets are still there.
I’m tucking them away just as a soft tap on the front door catches my attention. I shove my wallet back in my pocket, walk to the front door, and pull it open. Brittany smiles, revealing two of the cutest damn dimples I’ve ever seen. How in the world did I miss those before?
“Borrowing sugar from another woman, huh?” she says, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
I prop my hip against the doorframe. “Nah, I don’t want another woman’s sugar.”
Brittany’s face lights up. “Good answer, Mr. Jackson. You just earned yourself something swee—”
She doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentence because I yank her into my house and swallow her words with my mouth.
“Well”—she pulls back and runs a thumb along her bottom lip—“that was more spicy than sweet, but I like spicy.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmm hmmm.” She nods as I lower my mouth to the side of her neck. “I like it a whole lot.”
“Go out with me tonight,” I whisper.
“Okay,” she says, tilting her head to the side. She brings her hands to my arms and steadies herself. She tastes so damn good; I can’t help but nip at her shoulder. “If you keep doing that, I’d probably agree to just about anything.”
“Then maybe I’ll have to do it again tonight after the baseball game.”
“Baseball game?” Brittany squirms and I look up. “Who’s going to a baseball game?”
“We are,” I say, pulling my wallet out once again. “You did agree to go out with me, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” I hand her the tickets and her eyes widen. “Connor,” she breathes out, looking between me and the two tickets that cost me a small fortune. “These are front row seats.”
“I know.”
