AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The door opens and every carefully crafted word I’d agonized over is burned from my brain by the piercing blue gaze of the man before me. His lips are a flat line, which doesn’t bode well for my presence here, but he’s also not exhibiting any other signs of anger or frustration. His arms are by his side, and his posture is relaxed. He’s an intimidating man by default, but he isn’t capitalizing on that. Interesting.
“I’m your neighbor,” I blurt out because even though I can decipher emotions like a professional, I’m not elegant in the slightest. “My name’s Juliette and I came over to welcome you to Peach Hollow.”
I hold out the basil plant in front of me. He looks down at it but doesn’t make any move to take it from my hands. This is not how I pictured this interaction in my head at three in the morning when I couldn’t sleep.
“It’s a basil plant,” I explain. “See, the guy who lived here before you, Darren, well I tried to bring him cookies to welcome him to the neighborhood. But he said he was allergic to chocolate chips, so I was afraid to bring you anything food related, worried that you might be allergic to something. So I brought you a basil plant.”
I pause, but he still says nothing, and then it dawns on me.
“Oh no, you’re not allergic to basil, are you?”
I start to pull the plant back toward my chest, but his hand reaches out lightning-fast and grabs my arm. My eyes zero in on his large hand circling my wrist below where my sweater stops, warmth flooding my body from the contact. He immediately removes his hand as if my skin had turned to flame under his touch.
“I’m not allergic to basil, thank you for the plant.” His voice is low and a bit gruff, different from the smooth musicality of his brother’s.
I hand him the tin and resist the urge to dust the bits of potting soil from my hands on my brown suede skirt. Instead, I keep my fingers locked together in front of me and my eyes on the plant that looks much smaller in his hands than it did in mine.
“I’m Adrian,” he says and my eyes spring up to meet his. They’re a disconcerting kind of blue. The kind that makes you think of glaciers and frigid temperatures.
“It’s nice to meet you, Adrian. If you ever need anything, me and Murphy are right next door.”
“Murphy?” He quirks a brow and I smile up at him.
“My golden retriever. Don’t worry, he’s well-trained. He won’t come in your yard or anything like that.”
“Good to know.”
“Well, I’ll get out of your hair. I just wanted to introduce myself.” I take a step back. He nods.
If I stand here long enough, would he cave and talk to me?I tilt my head to the side, studying him for a second longer before grinning. No, I think he could spend the rest of the evening in silence, counting on me to get uncomfortable before he did. His eyes dip down to my lips for barely a second, but I catch it. My stomach flips at the thought of a man this gorgeous looking at my mouth.
“Have a nice evening, Adrian,” I say and turn around to leave without waiting for a response. It’s unlikely that I’d get one, and for some reason that makes me like him more.
It means that if I ever do get to have a conversation with him, it’ll be intentional on his part. He’s probably thinking that his behavior tonight will keep me from talking to him again, but he’s wrong. I’m going to get a conversation out of Adrian, even if it takes way more time and energy than most people would put into it. Something tells me he needs a friend, and lucky–or unlucky, depending on who you ask–for him, so do I.
Chapter two
Adrian Carter
Waterflowsfromthekettle and the scent of steeping tea permeates the air. After a morning run around the lake, I’m going to soak up the tranquility and solitude of my new neighborhood while drinking my favorite Earl Grey. I moved to Peach Hollow because of the peace it emanated when I found it. After living in apartments in major cities for the majority of my adult life, this small cottage is a welcome reprieve.
My eyes catch on basil leaves in the morning light while I wait on my tea and I scowl at the plant perched on my windowsill. If only looks could make a plant wither. Every time I see it, it’s a reminder of the weakness I indulged. I planned on sending Juliette back to her home, plant in hand, but she just kept talking. It was as if she was unaffected by theleave me alonemessage I was sending her. It’s no good to have her thinking I’m anything more than a quiet neighbor who keeps to myself.
There is something different about her, though. Something about the combination of those innocent green eyes blinking up at me and how soft she looked with her fuzzy navy sweater. Probably more than all of that, was the secretive smile she wore as she took me in. As if she wasn’t concerned with my flat look or lack of conversation skills. She seemed to find meentertaining.
My breath creates a white fog as I walk out onto my back deck. Maybe the below thirty winds will give the memory of her smile frostbite, so I never have to think of it again.
That secret smile has plagued me because I’m a man who picks up on cues from people. I can give someone a once over and know more about them than most people will after a full conversation. All my life, I’ve been the observer. But Juliette… she made me feel like I was on the other side of the magnifying glass for once. All the more reason to keep her at a distance. I don’t need to be friends with some innocent but curious woman.
My brother Grayson and I left our government jobs in order to start our own private security company so that we could work less and settle down. We’re both thirty now, so it makes sense to think of finding a wife and starting a family. But relationships don’t come easy for me. Ilikebeing alone, and I don’t trust easily. I was burned one too many times during my stint in the CIA. After having so-called friends use the minor details about my life I gave them against me, it’s hard to trust anyone, much less become vulnerable enough to make a lifelong commitment to someone.
So as pretty as Juliette is, I’m going to steer clear of her. There’s no way that someone as sweet and naive as she appears could handle all of my skepticism.
Right as I’m taking a sip of my morning tea, a loud crash pierces the air, making me startle, and my tea slosh out of my mug and onto my shirt.
“Why me?” I hear a familiar feminine voice whine and without thinking, I rush down my deck stairs, abandoning my mug on the railing.
I jog in the direction of the crash but stumble to a halt when Juliette comes into view. She’s frowning down at my tipped-over trashcan, her arms crossed over her chest. Her beige satin pajamas shimmer in the light as she shifts from foot to foot.Does she always look this unbelievably soft?
