PROLOGUE ZOEY Whoever says childbirth is beautiful is wrong. I begged my sister to let me be in the delivery room with her. She even made me get on my knees before she finally caved and said yes. I thought it was going to be magical, something like I’ve seen in the movies. But nope. Not even a little bit—unless the movie is a gruesome horror film. “Ma, maybe we should stand over there.” I point to the chairs near the top of the bed, instead of the end where we’re standing. I’ve seen my sister’s body before, but never, and I mean never, have I seen every single inch of her girl parts on full freaking display. And the number of people coming in and out of her room while she’s wide open is shocking and horrifying. “No, honey. I want to watch my first grandbaby be born,” Mom says, gripping my hand tighter to keep me from moving. “This is so beautiful.” “Delusional,” I mutter under my breath. “Zoey,” Mom chastises me, sounding exactly like she did when I was a little kid mouthing off. “What’s not beautiful about this?” Well, for starters, her hairy bush. At least that’s how I want to answer, but I’m not dumb enough to speak those words aloud. My mom is sweet, but I think that would’ve earned me a smack to the back of the head. So instead, I say, “Are you serious? Maybe you need glasses.” I’m pushing it now. I know I am, but I can’t help myself. I’m acting like a child, but this is traumatizing on so many levels. But this has made me realize I am never having a baby.
1 ZOEY “What’s he look like?” Lulu says, trying to push me out of the way. “Why does it matter?” I ask with my back plastered to the door to block her path to the peephole. “Hot neighbors can be fun, and Lord knows, you need a little of that in your life.” “I’m not sleeping with my new neighbor.” She straightens, finally stopping her lackluster attempt at pushing me aside. “I know. You’re not sleeping with anyone. Your vagina is out of business. Store closed. No new customers. Pretty soon, I’m going to put you in a nunnery.” “Is nunnery even a word?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. My sister is dramatic. She always has been, and I don’t think she’ll ever change. We balance each other out, though, because I’m the least dramatic person in a very dramatic and over-the-top family. “I’m going to start calling you Sister Zoey.” I roll my eyes. “I remember plenty of times when you took breaks, and after…” I almost say his name, but it dies on my lips as my body shakes as if the memory of that night is bubbling to the surface. “Not all men are shit, Zo. Not all men are like him.” I know she’s right. Looking at the men in my own family tells me there are good apples out there in the world. But I’m the problem. My ability to pick ones who aren’t total jerks is off. I feel like even if they wore a shirt that had Loser printed on it, I’d still go straight for them because I’m a glutton for punishment. That’s why it’s better if I steer clear. I’ve been successful lately, but I don’t know how long my resolve will last. “I just needed a breather, Lu,” I say with an exasperated sigh. “Well, you’ve breathed, and now it’s time to jump back into the dating pool. Our plan to become single spinsters and die as roommates kind of shit the bed when I met Oliver.” “Just because you found someone doesn’t mean I will.” I let my shoulders fall forward, allowing myself to relax a little, even though this conversation always makes me tense. My sister, being the jerk she is, uses that moment to hip check me, causing my body to jolt to the right. She squeals like she just won the lottery and doesn’t hesitate to press her eye to the peephole. “Didn’t Grandpa ever tell you not to do that?” “Do what?” she asks, her palms plastered to the wood as she tries to line up her eye with the small opening. “Use peepholes. They’re dangerous.”
“Grandpa is a little extreme. Oh, wait.” She gasps. “I see him.” She presses her face closer, as if somehow that’s going to give her a better view, even though I know it doesn’t because I’ve tried. “Oh my God, he’s so, so…” “I know. I know,” I mumble. I nearly swallowed my tongue when I first saw him. The man is easily six feet tall, dark hair, muscular—but not a ridiculous amount—and he can wear a pair of blue jeans like they are made just for him. I couldn’t make out the finer details because looking through the peep makes everything appear distorted and extra far away. “Have you seen a woman?” she asks, still gawking at him. “Yeah. He’s taken, Lulu. You can stop dreaming up a ridiculous fairy tale because it’s never going to happen.” She pushes off the door with her nose scrunched. “That’s a shame. Maybe they won’t work out.” I shake my head as I stalk away from her and head toward the kitchen to crack open a new bottle of wine. “I’m not going to hope they break up. I’m not ready for a relationship either, Lu. And there’s no way in hell I’d ever date my neighbor. That can only lead to a disaster. I’ve had enough drama to last me a while.” “Do you think he has a bike? He looks like he does,” she asks as she grabs an empty wineglass from the kitchen island. “What does it matter?” I fill her glass first and then my own as she studies my face. “Nothing is going to happen. I’m closed for business, remember? And he has a woman.” “Don’t let that shithead chase you away from a chance at happiness. He doesn’t get to do that to you. He’s done enough damage. Don’t give him your entire future too.” “Jesus, Lu. I haven’t even had a sip of wine yet, and you’re getting way too heavy, way too fast.” As I lift the glass to my lips, my sister staring me down, she says, “Oliver has a friend—” “No,” I say before she can finish the statement. “Absolutely not.” Lulu grunts her frustration. I glare at her over the rim of my wine. “Did you like it when Mom tried to set you up with men?” “No,” she snaps. “Then why are you doing it to me now?” She plops onto a stool like I’ve stuck a pin in her and caused her to deflate. “I want to see you happy.” “I am happy. I have the bar, I have my own apartment, I have an adorable niece, and a nosy sister. What else could a girl want?” “A really big dick,” she says simply. I can’t help but burst into a fit of laughter. Lulu said those words with the straightest face and like it is the most obvious thing in the world. She isn’t entirely wrong. I’ve also had some big ones, but they were attached to idiots who had no idea what to do with them. Shame, really. But my laughter immediately dies when there’s a knock on my front door. Lulu and I stare at each other with wide eyes. “Did you invite someone over?” I whisper. “No. You?” she whispers back. I shake my head as my eyes move to the door. “Maybe it’s him,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. I wave her off, not wanting to hear anything else about the sexy man who’s going to be my neighbor for the foreseeable future. “I’ll get it,” she says, hopping off her stool like her ass is on fire and moving toward the door before I can round the island. “Lulu,” I warn, using the best impersonation I can muster of our mother’s voice. “Don’t.” She yanks open the door, and it’s like my feet become glued to the hardwood floors. There he is. The new neighbor, oozing sexual appeal. His blue eyes don’t land on my sister, but find me across the loft, and I instantly feel the heat of his gaze. I nearly swallow my tongue as I soak in his rugged handsomeness, something most of the guys in our neighborhood are missing. There are three types of guys in our area—the stuffy businessmen who wear nothing but designer suits and way too much cologne, the frumpy dudes who don’t care about style and look like they haven’t washed their hair since the last full moon, or the people who ask for change every time I leave the building. He’s wearing a formfitting black T-shirt that hugs every dip and swell of his muscles, a pair of dark blue jeans that are snug, no doubt making his ass cheeks look like they’re ready for a pair of teeth to sink into them, and the outfit is rounded out by a pair of black boots with the laces barely tied. “Hey,” my sister says, peering up at him. Lulu isn’t short for a woman, but this man makes her look small. And not just short, but like she should shop in the petites section of our favorite department store. He lifts a hand to the back of his neck, giving us a view of the tattoos that curl all the way around his arms. “Sorry to bother you…” “No bother,” Lulu says, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Right, Zoey?” I blink a few times, snapping out of my lusty haze. “Right,” I mutter, barely able to force the word out of my suddenly dry throat. His fingers curl around the back of his neck and knead, causing all the muscles in that arm to ripple and flex. My mind is instantly flooded with made-up images of him fully nude and those arms wrapped around my middle or my thighs as he holds… “I’m moving in next door,” he says, not realizing we’ve been watching him and already know. “Welcome to the building,” Lulu says. “Thanks.” He smiles, and my entire insides melt, because damn it, why is he so pretty? “My sister lives here. Just her. Not me. Not a husband. Only Zoey.” I grind my teeth as his eyes snap up to me and flash with something I’m not sure I can pinpoint. What in the hell is my sister doing? He’s probably married, and the last thing I need is a flirty neighbor who’s also a cheater. “I’m Hunter,” he says to me, not her. Of course he is. He doesn’t look like a Charles, Phillip, or William. Naturally, he has a cool name. No man as ruggedly beautiful as he is could have a basic one. It’s like his future was predestined at birth, and his parents knew to name him something fitting for the badass handsomeness that would grace him for years. “Me likey,” Lulu mumbles, but Hunter doesn’t seem to hear her. “A jar fell off my counter and spilled, but I can’t locate my vacuum or broom among all the boxes. Do you happen to have either one I can borrow for a few minutes?” “Sure,” I say as I find my footing and push myself away from the island to grab what he needs. “We have book club every month if your wife is looking to make new friends in the building,” Zoey tells Hunter. I nearly trip over my own feet because I know what she’s doing, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he knows too. Then there’s the simple fact that we do not have a book club meeting every single month. Hell, we never have one. “No wife,” he answers. “Do you want to come to book club?” she asks without skipping a beat. “Lulu, leave the man alone,” I tell her as I grab my cordless vacuum from the charger. “He’s busy.” “Book club sounds fun. Once I’m moved in, I may be interested,” he says as I hold out the vacuum to him. “Depends on what you like to read.” I could kill my sister. I haven’t read a book in the last few months, and I know it’s been well over a year for her. We also don’t enjoy the same reads. She’s more of a thriller and mystery girl, while I inhale all things fantasy and romance. “We can talk about it another time,” I tell him as I offer him the vacuum. He reaches out to take the vacuum, and his fingers graze my own, electricity instantly zapping through me. Damn. I need to get a grip. A simple touch shouldn’t have my entire body coming alive, but my self-imposed hiatus from men isn’t doing me any favors right now. I can’t seem to uncurl my fingers from the handle as I stand there, staring at him like I’m in a trance. His blue eyes bore into me, and it dawns on me that he’s not moving either. It’s like we’re both stuck in this moment, staring at each other like the secrets of the universe are inside the other’s eyes. “Is it hot in here?” Lulu says. I blink, breaking the weird connection. “Sorry,” I whisper and clear my throat as I pull my hand away, giving him the vacuum. “Thanks for this. I owe you,” he says. My gaze roams around his face, soaking in every detail. I memorize the stubble high on his cheeks, which meets the dark beard that frames his face perfectly, making those blue eyes stand out more than if he were clean-shaven. His lips are full—the hair neatly trimmed around them as if he’s waiting to be kissed. “It’s not a problem,” I say and shake my head, and the movement isn’t a response to his statement but a silent chastisement of myself for fantasizing about this man in front of him. “Hunter!” a woman yells from the hallway. Lulu raises an eyebrow. “Girlfriend?” “Sister,” he replies with a smirk. “Nice,” Lulu whispers. “I gotta run. We’ll talk soon,” he says to me, and I nearly melt into a puddle of goo on my wood floor. When he turns around, my vacuum in his hand, my gaze drops to his ass, and I immediately go weak in the knees. I know plenty of men who are ass guys, but I think it’s rare for women to fixate on that part of a man. However, it’s the number one thing that makes my heart go pitter-patter. I hate the saggy-jean trend that has gone on for far too long. I want to know what they’re hiding in their denim, and this man has everything on full display. Lulu sticks her head out into the hallway, waving at someone. “Hi,” she says. I groan and nearly crumple to the floor in embarrassment. “Lulu, close the door,” I tell her and scrub my hands down my face. “How embarrassing.” She closes the door and gives me a hopeful smile. “That went better than I could’ve imagined. The man is smitten.” “He’s not smitten, weirdo.” “He’s into more than just your vacuum. He wants you to—” I hold up my hand and stop her dead in her tracks. “Don’t say it.” “Who was that, Hunter?” his sister asks him, not realizing the doors are thick, but they suck at dampening any sound from the hallway. “My hottie neighbor’s sister,” he replies, and my heart beats in double time. “A hottie next door, eh?” the woman says. “I love that for you.” But before we can hear his answer, there’s a click, and all sound from the hallway ends. “That blush on your face has me thinking I should put your reservation at the nunnery on hold.” I clear my throat as I head back to the kitchen and my glass of wine that I need now more than ever. “It’s not happening, Lulu. Stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking.” “I think you’re going to get laid soon.” I roll my eyes as I lift the wineglass to my lips. “Nope. You’re wrong.” “I’ve never been so right.” I don’t want to tell her that a big part of me hopes she is. ...
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