Flirting with Forever: A Hot Romantic Comedy(18)

So I resisted the urge to hug her goodbye. “See you later.”

“Bye, Dex.” Her eyes lingered on mine, then she turned and waved to Riley. “Bye, Riley. Have fun.”

Riley waved from inside the car, then motioned for me to hurry.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” I avoided eye contact with Nora and tried to be as non-flirtatious as possible. “Drive safe.”

Without looking back, I got in my car. I felt like I needed to get away from her. Like we’d crossed a line—even though we really hadn’t—and if I didn’t leave now, I’d wind up in serious trouble.

I really couldn’t let that happen. Yeah, she was gorgeous and I even kind of liked her. But at the end of the day, I barely knew her. And the last thing I needed right now were the complications of a woman in my life.

I already had one and I could barely handle that.

Nora was tempting, but that was what made her so dangerous. As I headed home, I resolved to keep my distance. It was nice that Riley liked her so much. That was fine, they could be friendly across the fence, as it were.

But I needed to stay away.





8





NORA





Whoever had remodeled this house had picked the perfect bathtub. It was freestanding and luxuriously large. I settled into the warm water and closed my eyes, breathing in the lavender scent of the bath bomb I’d added.

Perfect. Just what I’d needed. It had been a week.

The master bath had a spa vibe, with wood cabinets, dark tile, and contrasting white countertops. I’d added my fluffy white towels and small white ceramic vases with sprigs of dried eucalyptus for a minimalist, natural look.

I picked up my long stem wine glass and sipped the chilled white. Light and refreshing. Also just what I’d needed.

The sound of a car outside caught my attention. I knew without looking that it was Dex. His car made a distinct knocking sound when he turned the engine off. I wondered why he didn’t get it fixed. Maybe he just didn’t notice.

That man was an enigma. Rough around the edges but still hugged his mother. And his father. That had been a fascinating dynamic to witness. I tried to picture my brother, Jensen, hugging our father, but that was an image I couldn’t conjure. My father didn’t hug me, and I was his daughter. Granted, I rarely saw him. He was very settled with his wife, Jensen’s mom. In London. Made it hard to pop by for a visit.

And Dex was hosting a family barbecue. I wondered what that would be like. Apparently I was going to find out.

Was all of this typical for neighbors on a suburban street? First, Riley had asked me to come to her art show, which had been nothing short of adorable—both the invitation and the event itself. And now I was invited to a family barbecue next door.

Although that clearly had the stamp of a matchmaking mother.

It was cute, really. Flattering in its own way. Not that I was wife material, something Mrs. Gillian St. James would figure out soon enough. But I wasn’t worried about that. Dex didn’t strike me as the type to pay much heed to his mother’s promptings.

My phone buzzed with a message. It was an email from my boss and against my better judgment, I opened it.

My eyes slid over the brief note, letting me know the final copy of next week’s column was attached, and they’d made a few minor changes.

I took a healthy swallow of wine and opened the attachment.

Minor changes? That was laughable. My piece had been shredded. It still sounded like me, for the most part, but exaggerated. Like they’d taken my voice and turned up the volume.

With a roll of my eyes, I put my phone down. I already knew there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Once April had deemed an article final, it was final. I’d pushed back before and she’d refused to budge.

And there was something to be said for picking your battles. If they wanted to edit more drama and slang into my tone, fine. I’d let it go in the hopes that I’d win the larger war—the war over the content of my column.

A car door shut outside, dragging my thoughts back to Dex. I didn’t even know if it was him and yet there he was, at the forefront of my mind.

Maybe it was because I kept dreaming about him. The first had been nothing but a warm up. That man had invaded my nights and in my erotic nocturnal imagination, he was larger than life.

So much larger. Especially in the ways that really counted.

Granted, from what I’d seen, my imagination wasn’t far off.

I sank back into the water with a sigh. I’d been single for too long. That was my problem. I wanted—not needed—a man who’d take me out, show me a nice time. Someone who could be a gentleman in the streets and an animal in the sheets.

But I hadn’t met anyone interesting lately and I rarely went back to past flings. I wasn’t anyone’s fuck buddy, thank you very much.

Of course, there was another potential option. And he was right next door. He might not fit my usual criteria, but there was something undeniably tempting about him.

I soaked for a while longer, relaxing in the luxurious warmth. The candles I’d lit flickered. It was so quiet here. No hustle and bustle of city streets below, no constant hum of traffic or blare of horns and sirens. Just the occasional sound of a car or a barking dog to break up the relative silence.

I liked it.

When I was suitably languid, I blew out the candles, then got out of the bath and dried off. I undid the claw clip holding my hair up and shook it out as I walked into my bedroom, the scent of lavender clinging to me. I traded the towel for a silky pink robe that matched my current toenail polish.