Flirting with Forever: A Hot Romantic Comedy(2)

I wandered back to the living room and glanced out the window. The woman next door was typing something on her phone and I couldn’t seem to look away. It wasn’t just her body, although that was certainly nice to look at. She had an air about her, like she was charged with electricity.

Thanks to Phil across the street, I already knew more about her than was necessary. She was single—or at least not married—and lived alone. I didn’t know how he’d gotten that information, but that was typical. Phil was always the first to know everything on our street.

Not that it mattered. Single or not, she wasn’t my type.

Actually, nobody was my type. I’d taken dating off my agenda a long time ago. Someday? Maybe, but I kind of doubted it. For the time being, I was focused on raising my daughter. Once she was on her own I was looking forward to the freedom of not having to answer to anyone.

Which was why it didn’t make any sense that I was staring out the window at the woman next door. She wasn’t that hot.

Okay, yes she was.

If you were into that sort of thing.

“Dad?”

I whipped around. “Yeah?”

“What were you staring at?”

Damn it. “Nothing.”

“Then why are you standing there looking out the window?”

Great, now she chooses to speak in complete sentences? “Just looking. It’s nice out.”

Her brow furrowed, as if she were confused. I got that look from her a lot. “Okay.”

“What’s up? Do you need something?”

She held out a piece of paper. “I need you to sign this for school.”

“What is it? A field trip or something?”

“No. I’m failing PE.”

I walked over and swiped the note out of her hand. “Failing? How are you failing PE?”

She shrugged but didn’t offer an explanation.

I read the note. She was indeed failing PE and her teacher cited a lack of participation as the reason.

“What does this mean?” I asked. “Are you just sitting out and not doing anything during class?”

“I guess.”

“You guess? Ry, that’s not an answer. You can’t fail a class, especially one like PE. That should be a slam dunk for you.”

She scowled at the floor. “I won’t fail. I’ll do extra credit or something.”

“Have you talked to your teacher about it already?”

“No.”

“But you’re going to?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I need to talk to her?”

“No.”

With a slight shake of my head—seriously, failing PE—I took the note to the kitchen and dug through the junk drawer until I found a pen. I started scrawling my signature across the bottom but the pen didn’t work. No ink. Damn it. I found another one and scribbled a quick circle on a discarded sticky note to make sure it worked. It was bright green but it would do. I signed the note and held it out to Riley.

“I’m going to check in with you in a few days and you better have a plan to get this grade up.”

She took the paper. “I will.”

I watched her go back upstairs, feeling helpless. Instinct told me something else was going on. She’d been in sports her whole life, PE should have been a breeze. All she had to do was show up and participate. But, for some reason, she was shutting down.

It was happening in all areas of her life. Her grades were slipping. She hadn’t been to a friend’s house in months and she’d stopped inviting kids over. No matter what I tried, our conversations were brief and stunted. Almost awkward. Which was so weird. We’d always been so close.

What had happened to the happy little girl whose favorite place had once been my lap?

A yawn overtook me out of nowhere, reminding me of how badly I’d slept the night before. Insomnia sucked but there didn’t seem to be much I could do about it. Sometimes I slept okay but most nights I was up for at least a few hours. Been that way for years.

I headed back to the kitchen and started a fresh pot of coffee. I needed something to wake me up before I had to go to work. As a tattoo artist, I couldn’t afford to be drowsy on the job. Mistakes weren’t an option when you were needling permanent ink onto someone’s body. Tonight, I had a couple of consultations and a client returning to fill in more of his sleeve. I was excited about the sleeve—it was turning out awesome—and I definitely needed to be sharp.

While I waited for the coffee, I went back to the living room and looked outside. The woman was out there, still flirting with one of the movers. He went up the ramp into the truck and for a second, she glanced my direction.

It was like being hit by a jolt of electricity. I felt the zap in my chest. Seemed like a bad omen.

I’d keep my distance. Just because she was right next door didn’t mean I had to have anything to do with her. The last thing I needed was more female trouble in my life. I glanced upstairs, toward Riley’s closed bedroom door. I had enough of that already.





2





NORA





Moving was ridiculous.

I wasn’t even the one hauling furniture and boxes. I’d hired movers, which meant I was in more of a supervisory role. But even making sure things were being taken to the right rooms and starting to sort through the mess was a lot of work.