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I almost had the money to buy that unit myself. My plan was to knock out the wall and double the size of my place, but it looked like now that wasn’t going to happen. Not unless my new neighbors were going to be cool with a wrecking crew barreling into their living room.
Suddenly, a woman poked her head out the front door.
“Rex,” she called. “Rex!”
Must be her husband. Which was a crying shame because this woman was gorgeous. Long, blonde hair, clear blue eyes and, even under the jeans and sweater she wore, I could tell she had lush, perfect curves. Sue me. I liked a woman with hips.
“Rex,” she shouted again, getting impatient.
I rolled my eyes. Whoever this Rex dude was, he was pissing off this woman, so he must be a pretty big idiot. I might not do relationships, but if I could invite her over tocelebratewith me, I’d get her screaming out my name too. I shook the thought away, though. I don’t fuck married women.
Though, as I scanned her finger for a ring, I didn’t see one.
“I’m right here, mom.” I turned around to see a young boy, maybe about six or seven years old, run towards her. “I was just trying to help the movers. There’s a more efficient way to unload this truck. But I don’t think they care to listen to me.”
I almost laughed. This kid reminded me of Elias at that age. Crazy smart, but also kind of arrogant about it. And frustrated that the rest of the world couldn’t keep up.
“I think they can handle it, Rex,” she said with a smile. “They’re professionals.”
“Ugh. That’s what they said too."
“Why don’t you come help me make some snacks for everybody, huh?”
Rex nodded and followed the woman inside their new home. I took the opportunity to head inside without them noticing. By the time I shut my door, my heart was beating a little faster. I tried to shrug off the feeling. As hot as my new neighbor was, I couldn’t go around acting like a teenager with a crush.
She might not be married.
But she definitely,definitelyhad a kid.
And that made her definitely off-limits.
One
Zoe
“Cheers to the single life,” Sasha said, gleefully. “Down they go.”
We clinked shot glasses and she quickly downed hers, like a seasoned pro. Well… she kind of was.
I took a sip of mine and nearly spit it out. It was spicy, but also somehow sweet. And also burned like lighter fluid. I sputtered.
“What the hell was in that?” I spat out.
“Fireball. Cinnamon whiskey.”
“Who the hell thought that was a good idea?”
“You should try it mixed with cider,” she insisted, flagging down the bartender. “It’s like alcoholic apple cinnamon pie.”
“No thank you.”
“Really? You used to love that kind of thing.”
I shook my head. “Are you forgetting the part where we’re thirty-four and not twenty-one?”
“Speak for yourself,” she insisted.
“Um… pretty sure you’re just as old as I am.”
